Ally or Alien: A Sci-Fi Novel

by Dorian, Mars

  In the far distance, he saw a squad of electric jeeps whirling up dust from the horizon. Bellrock climbed out the pod and helped Rao do the same. He wanted to stand up, but his legs shook and collapsed.

  So that's how it feels like to be ninety years old, he thought.

  Bellrock crawled on the ground when one of the convoy's jeeps halted ten meters next to him with screeching tires. More dust tornado'd up the air. A bald man with a smug grin stepped out the front seat and marched toward Bellrock and Rao.

  It was the Director of the mission program, wearing his blazer and shades way too cool for school.

  "Welcome home, gentlemen."

  Bellrock looked up and opened his helmet.

  "Good to see another human."

  A couple of men dressed in NASA uniforms stepped out their jeeps and helped the two astronauts get inside. One guy with short-trimmed hair handed over a bottle filled with the most delicious water Bellrock had ever tasted.

  Bland, cold and still.

  Simply the best.

  He downed the liquid in one go, unstrapped the suit from his body and dragged himself to the corner of the backseats. Leaned his head against the window and watched as the Texan prairie flashed by his tired eyes. The Director in the front seat lifted his shades.

  "We are so glad to have you back with us. I bet you have stories to tell, but we're going to wait until you're fully accustomed to Earth again.”

  Pause.

  “We're heading to the Space Center first."

  He tapped the dashboard.

  "Unfortunately, we don't have any hoverglider, so it's going to take a while."

  "Tires are fine," Bellrock said.

  "I'm done with floating around like a crash test dummy. My boots belong on the ground."

  The Director simply nodded and focused his attention on Dr. Rao.

  "What about you?"

  "I'm okay. Thanks for picking us up, sir."

  "De nada," the Director said, "by the way, there is a little surprise for both of you."

  Please, no more surprises, Bellrock thought, but he was too exhausted to mumble the words. He stared through the side windows and lost himself in the Texan landscape. The scorching sun blinded his vision, but he didn't mind. Anything but the black void was a welcome. He closed his eyes and pondered the past events when the jeep halted in the parking area of the Space Center. Whenever he drifted away, time slipped faster than FTL. The doors opened and flooded the backseats with yellow glows. Crowds swarmed the place like a holo-concert. Laughter and clapping echoed through the dry air.

  "What's going on?" Bellrock said, supported by two NASA employees, as they carried him to the party people.

  "Everyone's here for Earth's two favorite heroes."

  Indeed.

  The Who's Who of the entire political spectrum awaited him, together with dozens of hovering cam drones that filmed his flabbergasted face in hyper resolution. Moviefeed stars, renowned veterans and even the AC president himself, Lucas freaking Wright, were among the guests. They had set up a stage for him and Dr. Rao on the emerald grass near the parking space and threw confetti glitter through the air. A holo-pillar floated behind him, reading, "Welcome back, boys."

  Bellrock pinched himself to make sure he didn't land in some alternate universe, because this was getting more surreal by the second. The president waved him over from the stage and exposed his toothpaste smile. Bellrock and Dr. Rao approached Lucas C. Wright and shook his hands. The man opened his ginormous mouth and laughed at the cam drones hovering closer.

  "These two men, ladies and gentlemen, just single-handedly saved our race from total annihilation."

  He paused and panted for air.

  Good old president had a few more pounds on him since the last time Bellrock had seen him.

  "Norbert Bellrock and Dr. Sriniva Rao volunteered for a dangerous odyssey to Mars to face an unknown alien threat. They put their lives on the line while being over 55 million kilometers away from home. They analyzed and fought a hostile life form hellbent on galactic destruction. If that's not heroic, nothing ever will be. Ladies and gentlemen, give our heroes a proper welcome."

  He clapped melodrama style, which launched a massive applause from the audience. The president shook Bellrock's and Rao's hand, this time with more vigor. He waved over an assistant with a little black box in her hands. The uniformed women flipped open the dark wooden chest and revealed two gold-plated medals depicting a human avatar in a heroic pose. Bellrock remembered how to open his lips.

  "What's that?"

  "The Medal For Outstanding Service to Humanity."

  He attached the badge to Bellrock's chest, then repeated the spiel with Dr. Rao. His lips stretched even wider.

  "Let me tell you, gentlemen, I'm so honored to stand next to luminaries like you. You make the AC great again.”

  Some folks in the audience laughed, although it felt artificial. Bellrock's body tried to straighten up, but his mind was absent. Floating on a different sphere, far away from here. He said what he was supposed to say, feeling proud to have represented Earth and all that jazz. Thank God he remembered his ancient training session on dealing with the media. His words lacked passion, but the audience seemed too self-obsessed to care. The cams floated closer and circled him like bats ready for the bite attack. A thousand cheered in front of the stage and glued their glowing eyes to his face.

  Bellrock couldn't care less.

  The president tapped his shoulder and whispered,

  "Don't be shy, they're here for you. Go talk to your fans."

  Fans?

  Ah yes, the many folks whistling and cheering at him. Down in the crowd, he played the social game. Shook hands of revered veterans, NASA personnel, sci-fi writers and moviefeed stars.

  "You're the greatest hero of our time," one said.

  Some women even held signs up the air, reading,

  "Bellrock's the best."

  And,

  "Dr. Rao makes me wow."

  The young scientist seemed more euphoric about the groupies than Bellrock.

  He simply pushed himself through the crowd and tried to finish the charade.

  Saying...

  Thank you

  Thank you

  Very much, but I don't know what's going on.

  It's what he wanted to say, but he felt fatigued from the long flight so he went with the hero narrative. Acted out the humble guest being grateful for the praise.

  At least the food and drinks were good—real Champagne from France, Tex-Mex chicken soups and fine beef jerky from the local food market. Old American rock music played, some classic guitar riffs with patriotic tunes. Waiters walked around with silver tablets and served little appetizers that looked like hors-d'oeuvre. Bellrock had to cut and chat for hours that seemed to drag on for days. Even some movie agents from the web mingled with the party crowds and wanted to option his rights for a movie adaptation.

  "Um, what?" was Bellrock's response as he stuffed a peppered piece of lox bagel into his right cheek.

  The brunette agent gave him a wink.

  "Do you have any idea how many people are watching you right now?"

  Of course he didn't, because he had just arrived from the freaking International Astroport. She must have realized that too, because she looked at her datapad and revealed the numbers to him.

  "According to the official feed counter, there are 156 million viewers from 58 nations across the planet. Like it or not, you're a star."

  "Yay."

  She frowned, probably wondering about his lackluster response. Bellrock was sure any other person would have been on fire right now, with all the attention and potential deals. Heck, one glance at Rao showed the young man was clearly enjoying the fanfare. A group of ladies had circumnavigated the doc and flashed him with smiles and fake laughter.

  The agent's voice brought Bellrock back to this conversation.

  "You must be tired. Don't worry, I have the contract right here on my datapad.
Spoiler alert: this is the deal of a life cycle. We not only option your story, but also guarantee an immediate screenplay adaptation. Once the web studio greenlights the script, you have a guaranteed movie reach of 188 countries.”

  She whispered as she covered her mouth.

  “Pssst, it’s a secret, but three global stars have a vested interest in putting your story on the holo screen. If you sign now, I can tell you who they are."

  Sounded impressive, if he had any idea of what she was talking about.

  "Shouldn't I get an agent first?"

  "By signing up, you also become my client. I'm with Triple-A, the biggest agency in the entire AC."

  "You're quite the go-getter, aren't you?"

  He eyed the datapad with the contract.

  The part where he was supposed to sign flickered. Bellrock didn't know whether that was his mind hallucinating, or whether it was some digital SFX to trigger him.

  "Well, send it to my personal profile. I'm going to give it a read tomorrow."

  "Are you sure you don't want to sign it now?"

  "I don't want to sign anything which I'll regret tomorrow. I've heard the web studios act like old Hollywood nowadays."

  She contorted her face, but he didn't care, about her, or anyone else around here.

  "No offense, I'm sure you're the best of the best. But it's been a rough, rough time for me. I'll check out your offer first thing in the morning. Big promise."

  Bellrock gave her his commlink ID and took off. With his Champagne glass half empty, he approached the president again who was surrounded by moviefeed stars.

  "Sir, I think I'm gonna head home."

  The president put up a bewildered look.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm positive."

  "But you're missing all the fun. Look, your partner's having a good time."

  That was true.

  Dr. Rao still impressed the ladies around him. To be honest, Bellrock would have done the same if he had been in the same age bracket. But today, he carried zero desire to join his game. Bellrock felt the arm of the president snaking around his shoulder. Lucas Wright whispered.

  “You’re a goddamn hero.”

  The president raised his Champagne glass and saluted Bellrock goodbye.

  A cam drone took a close-up of his face and whistled by him.

  About 174.5 million people from all over the planet watched the live-stream of Bellrock's and Dr. Rao's homecoming.

  He still didn't care, one single bit, so after another hour of lame chit-chat and fake smiling, he summoned a Tesla auto-ride and rolled back to his temporary home in Houston, Sawyer Street, near the Glenwood Cemetery. The veteran popped open a chill bottle of Hefeweizen lemonade, an import from Germany, schlepped his body toward the couch. It was time to relax, maybe the perfect moment to watch an Anime cult classic or two, let's say Akira or Spirited Away, when a VIP message landed in his inbox. It was an invitation for the day after tomorrow. Bellrock's first instinct was to decline, but he couldn't. This person was more important to him than the president.

  73

  Two days later.

  Oh, Falls Church.

  It must have been years.

  No, a whole decade, or more.

  Months after the Separatist War had concluded, and the medgineers from Onimech did their cybernetic magic, there was a huge dinner celebration in the heart of the suburban premium estate where all high-ranking veterans were invited to. That was the last time Bellrock had ever visited this place, until now.

  He glanced out the windows of the auto-ride and watched the boardwalks. Parents, kids and dogs pranced along the impeccable emerald lawns chopped by mower bots. Bright smiles painted the citizens' faces, glowed as much as the rainbow-colored nano-fibered jackets and trousers they wore.

  It made Bellrock smile.

  Seriously, take a family newsfeed spot, jam up the schmaltzy factor by three and whirl it through rainbow cereals and bam, out comes your Falls Church.

  Still, he liked it.

  A welcoming change from the close quarters in the Newtype's ringstation and the cold, white corridors of the Farsight facility on Mars.

  Here, the wind blew off the leaves, the sun glistened through the tree-crowns. A few other auto-rides hovered over the street, but with their electric motors, they hummed as faintly as an activated stun gun stuck under a blanket.

  Bellrock heard the chirps of sparrows and the cheering of kids playing short-range gravball on the sidewalks. Not to mention the barking of genetically-enhanced watchdogs, mostly Dobermans and German Shepherds.

  It was a paradise for retired souls.

  Bellrock pictured himself living here happily ever after, but maybe it was a tad too early. He lost himself in the harmony of suburbia when the auto-ride's AI voice brought him back.

  "Mayflower residence, St. Muriel Ave. ETA: T-minus 4 minutes and 32 seconds."

  He grinned.

  Even the auto-ride's artificial intelligence sounded more and more like a battle AI. Or was that a local gimmick, given that the high rankers of the AC military all lived here? Something to ponder until the vehicle's doors parted. Bellrock stepped outside and received a sun ray flash.

  He shielded his eyes and walked toward the lawn area that tried to compete with a football field in terms of size. A stoney path slid right through and connected with a colonial-style mansion. Two lawn mower bots cut the grass on each side. The second Bellrock entered the path, the door on the front porch opened and a big man with a Beethoven pullover stomped out. He grinned and exposed his massive teeth, stretched his buffed-up arms and shouted across the distance of the front yard.

  "Hallelujah, he hath arrived."

  Bellrock couldn't suppress his smile—it broke out of his face.

  It was good seeing the old bastard again...

  74

  Taurus McCloud.

  AKA, the American Commonwealth's Secretary of Space Defense.

  The two war veterans hugged each other like stone crushers.

  "I see the docs patched you up pretty good."

  "Wasn't much to patch up. I arrived in one piece."

  Taurus exposed his giant teeth again, probably big enough to munch a sabertooth tiger's skull. Next to him, even muscle-mountain Bellrock looked like a gamma male, but he didn't mind. It was good seeing an old face again. A fellow man that walked the bloody talk, instead of pretending, like most of the politicians of NASA's 'welcome' event.

  Taurus stepped back and inspected Bellrock from boot to head.

  "Let's check out my backyard. I got a couple of chill beers waiting for us."

  "Sounds good."

  Really did.

  After all these mainstream events, it was refreshing to keep a low profile and hang with likeminded ones. He rounded the corner and followed his mentor to the private side.

  "Something wrong?"

  "Always," Taurus said with a sharp smile.

  They entered the holy sanctum. An emerald-green field full of apple trees, laser-cut grass, and two dark wooden recliners geared toward the sunny side.

  A little garden wonderland.

  Taurus pointed to one recliner in the earthly-colors.

  "Sit down, son."

  They both hunkered down next to each other and enjoyed the fresh air. Taurus ordered a drone to get them two Coers Light from the nearby mobile freezer. Thirty seconds later, two frosty bottles landed in their hands. Pearling cool drops on Bellrock's right hand.

  It's the little things that mattered in his life.

  "Cheers," Taurus said and clank his Coers to Bellrock's.

  He knew the game—everything jumpstarted with the chitchat before the real talk began.

  "So how was the reentry into Earth's atmosphere?"

  "Forgettable. I tuned out everything till the second I touched Texan ground."

  Taurus simply nodded.

  "Amen."

  They both took a sip.

  Bellrock said,

  "Why didn't you
come to the media event when I arrived?”

  "I should say I was too busy, but the truth is—I hate those public spectacles. Full of pretentious little maggots pretending to care about our Commonwealth. None of them, including the politicians, have ever been in space. I'm too old for that kind of hypocrisy."

  "Well, you didn't miss anything. Except for Vixxen's three breasts."

  "Vixxen?"

  "Ah, some kind of porn model. Forget it. The only good thing from the event was the movie deal I snatched up. Looks like I can finally repay you for my medical debt.”

  "That's good, Belly. I'm happy for you."

  Taurus said it, but his mind seemed absent. Glued to some invisible spot on the hedges. He took another sip from his bottle and moved closer to Bellrock which meant the real talk was starting.

  Taurus' eyes glowed with intensity, his gravitas seemed to double.

  "Now give it to me straight, Belly. All those media snippets where you play Rambo are propaganda material from the Newtards, aren't they?"

  Of course Taurus knew about that.

  A man of his caliber was too experienced to fall for the censored footage.

  "Well, I really did shoot the biomorph when it invaded the Newtype's facility, but I had no idea the action was being recorded and sent it all the way to Earth. It wasn't part of our deal."

  "That's because they're always scheming something. Always did, always will be."

  Taurus' attention rose to 100%. His eyes pierced Bellrock, making him feel like being part of an investigation.

  "Now tell me, since you've seen their ringstation and surface structures—how do you rank their level of armament?"

  That was the single question burning on his tongue.

  Newtype danger—ally or alien?

  "They have some sorts of armament," Bellrock said and regretted his flabby word choice.

  A smile edged into Taurus' face.

  "Be more specific."

  "Well, down on the Martian surface, they had old armories, apparently remnants from the Separatist War. Beam weapons, smart grenades and guns, personal shields and stuff like that. They said they had never used them since the early days, but the weapons were in mint-condition. I used them to fight off the incoming droids in the corridors."