by Don Cook
“In fact, there are two sister-starships on the way to our sub-lunar base,” Winston said, “and they are the USS Abraham Lincoln, named after the American Civil War president, and the USS Joshua, named after the Biblical Israelite warrior who, as sung in gospel song, made the walls of Jericho ‘come-a-tumblin’-down’ — and these ships will arrive soon. Along with the Churchill, they will operate from a base within Earth’s Moon that has been safely created so as not to jeopardize life on Earth nor arouse the suspicion of Terran authorities.”
Khraa/Astra saw that many of those standing before her still had to process what she told them.
“Each of you has much to learn, much to prepare for,” Khraa/Astra said in conclusion, “but we know you are all up to it. You have both computerized and human supports to help you not just adapt to this new life, but to thrive in it, and thus enjoy it. You Earthlies should now get some rest. You and your Earth have been through a major wringer lately, and you’ll need that rest because we’ll start basic prep-training tomorrow. Any questions?”
Tara Gomez, a matronly 47-year-old Hispanic-American female nurse, raised her right hand.
“Yes, Tara?”
“Captain,” said Latino-accented Tara, “I know there will be no further official public contact between your space civilization and Earth. But what about us and our space-doubles? Can we resume our lives back on Earth once our tours of duty end?”
“First, Tara,” Winston said, “let me reassure you that you will be resuming your Earthly lives when your stints aboard the Churchill are finished. Your cultural observer-doubles will brief you fully, via computer-assisted telepathy, on the lives they led in your place on a daily or near-daily basis.
“And if you should fall in love with some human from another planet, and you wish to return to Earth with them,” Khraa/Astra said, “we will arrange for you and your space-mate to assume your Earthly lives. You will also return to Earth on furlough every 10 Earth-months to update your Earth-life’s memories and refamiliarize yourselves with your own lives on your home planet. But if you want to enjoy an outer space ‘shore leave’ when what we call world-side leave time comes up, be our guests. It would be a good, fun cross-cultural learning experience for each of you if you did. And given each of your curiosity factors, I’m sure each of you will probably jump at such a chance.”
Khraa/Astra noticed that Oliva “Livie” Mumford, an amiable tall, blond Australian woman in her early thirties, had humbly raised her hand.
“Yes, Livie?”
“Not a question, really,” Livie said in her husky yet soft voice, “but I just wanted to thank you for having us take our kids on this mission.”
“You’re welcome” Khraa/Astra said. “AMKEXPRA’s Sociological Factors Department has taken the need for good family ties into account. They have long realized that since families live on military outposts, the same logic can be applied to starships of a primarily non-combat nature like the Churchill. If this was strictly a warship in wartime, it would be a different story.
“But since our starship is primarily a vessel of exploration,” Khraa/Astra continued with calm enthusiasm, “The kids are welcome. Our kids… and yours. In fact, my love-lord — my husband Mike, who is also your ship’s chief ship-priest, or chaplain, insisted that our Glenn, Val and Donny come along, I told him it was already a done deal. Mike and our kids were ecstatic. And like the grownups on board, the Earthly kids also have their doppelganger-researchers. They are there with their parents to learn firsthand what it’s like to be a child or youth on various parts of your planet.”
“I will pray for your doppelgangers” Livie said. “Being an Earth-kid is tough. Look at the teenage suicide problem in Australia alone. It’s pretty bad.”
“I know, Livie.” Khraa/Astra said, with maternal empathy. “I know.”
Livie continued, “But I also love how you named this starship after Winston Churchill, Captain.”
“Captain Veh was merely following an old, established tradition in what her people call the Known Universe, Mrs. Mumford” Winston said. “When an exploration expedition from that part of the heavens sets up an outpost on a world with an indigenous human population, it is customary for the commander to request that the vessels assigned to said outpost be named after iconic figures from the world to be studied. My British Prime Ministerial authentic self, along with Abraham Lincoln and the Biblical figure Joshua, are two such Earth-people to have Amkerian ships named after them.”
“And your people, Captain,” Livie said, “have amazing, excellent technology. I actually feel that the master computer’s protocol interface hologram is so much like Winston Churchill that I feel as if he actually was Churchill. And that’s despite the real Winston Churchill’s passing away back in our Earth-year 1965. That was around the time my dad was born.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Mrs. Mumford” Winston said. “But please bear in mind — and this goes for all of you — that we protocol interface holograms are neither persons nor gods. That despite Amkeria’s amazing efforts and abilities to replicate my original self, I am merely a manifestation of a machine, and machines neither think nor feel, nor do we have any souls. Our ‘lives’, if you will, are just continuous, organized binary numerical streams of ones and zeroes, and nothing more. Next question, please?”
Khraa/Astra saw that Dale Jian, a 45-year old Chinese engineer who spoke English fluently, raised his hand.
“Yes, Dale?”
“Your technology impresses me to no end,” Dale said, “but as I’m sure you’re aware, Captain, and Prime Minister, there are, well, by your peoples’ standards, primitive but highly effective methods of scanning and detection beyond our atmosphere employed by our planet’s governments and major corporations. I’m concerned about how you plan to keep your underground Moonbase from being detected by Earth’s governments and corporations. And trust me, Captain, much of the tech that Earth has for space detection is classified and beyond the reach of even ordinary techies like me. Also, bear in mind that Earth’s mega-corporations are often just as powerful as our governments, if not more so.”
“Excellent points, Dale” Winston said. “When AMKEXPRA created its prefabricated subsurface Neil Armstrong Moonbase via matter alteration by transforming its subsurface rock into a functional space installation under its far side without disturbing the orbits of the Moon, Earth, the other planets, planetoids or any other celestial body, they also installed devices within the base’s very structure itself that will counter any of your world’s methods of detection, visual, cybernetic, and otherwise.
“Armstrong Moonbase, Dale, is designed to accommodate the Churchill, the Lincoln, the Joshua, and can and will be modified to accommodate any other spaceships of any class we wish to station here. Even now, neither this ship nor its parent Moonbase can be detected by any of your planet’s detection devices.”
“And like you said,” Dale commented, “your star-nation’s cultural exploration expedition known as Project Culture Vulture is here to study our Earth and our peoples benignly, with no ill intent towards us.”
“Yes, Dale” Khraa/Astra said. “Amkerian law strictly prohibits the kind of macabre methods attributed to your science fiction’s most nefarious aliens and the so-called Grays, the scariest of all Shrion races. And on a personal note, I love people, no matter what world they’re from. I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone… or any world. I’m what you would call a ‘people-person’ from outer space.”
Everyone chuckled, while Aldo Guthrie, an aging, moderately rabble-rousing hippie who was pushing 70, raised his hand.
“Yes, Aldo?” Khraa/Astra asked Aldo, who still ardently refused to “go Establishment” and supported Donovan Turnbull as his anti-Establishment choice for President.
“After we’re done our space-stint, Captain,” Aldo asked, “what if we like life in space so much that we don’t want to go back to Earth?”
“You’ll be free to stay if you so wish, Aldo,” Khraa/Astra said.
“But we will have to falsify an Earthly death for you. And if you opt to remain in space, you’ll never be able to return to Earth. But in your case, Aldo, I think you’d really ‘dig’ that, right?”
“I dig, skipper!” Aldo said, with a chuckle and gutsy “right-on-man” hippie-joy. “I dig!”
“Fine. Any further questions from any of you?” Khraa/Astra asked.
No one spoke.
“All right then. Get some rest and study your briefing packages. They contain all the pertinent information on our Earth-based operations. Your five-month training program will start tomorrow.” Khraa/Astra shouted militarily, “Ten-SHUN!” Everyone, including hippie Aldo, stood at strictest attention. Khraa/Astra said, “Dismissed!”
Every crew member, as well as all of the children, filed out of the docking bay in an orderly manner, with the non-Earthlings walking to their respective posts, while the Earthlings walked to their quarters, except for new FBI retiree Mike, who had become the Churchill’s chaplain, as he stood by his captain-wife’s side.
“Happy to be retired from the Bureau, dear?” Khraa/Astra asked, as she, Mike, and Winston casually strolled to the elevator that would take them to the ship’s bridge.
“You bet!” Mike said. “I feel a whole lot better. And you know what else? I like your peoples’ idea of having doppelgangers studying our planet while some of my fellow Earthlings and I are exploring the universe, with your… What was that term again you used to describe the scientists who are with Project Culture Vulture?”
“Lab-cloaks-on-the-planet...” Khraa/Astra said with an amused chuckle. “Glad you like the term.”
“And that while they’re on Earth,” Winston said, “these ‘lab-cloaks-on-the-planet’ are not ‘body-snatchers’. They are, shall we say, ‘identity-sitters.’ And when you return to Earth, these benevolent and beneficent doppelgangers will impart their Earthly experiences into your minds in such a way that we will not foul matters up by giving away any of your secrets, and that it will help you Terrans to re-acclimatize yourselves back to your Earthly lives when your voyage across the heavens ends.”
“Our scientists respect the rights of those we observe” Khraa/Astra said, as she, her, man, and Winston stopped at the elevator. “It’s just our way — and it’s the law.”
The elevator doors slid open, as Khraa/Astra continued, “It will also keep your planet’s spy-eyes off our people, so that no Earthling unawares will bat an eye. How’s that for cool?”
“Your people really do think of everything,” Mike said, as he, Khraa/Astra, and Winston entered the elevator.
“It’s just part of our job” Khraa/Astra said.
“And the laws of, shall we say, ‘the great Amkerian star-land’” Winston said, as the doors closed behind them.
“There’s one more thing that’s been gnawing at my mind like a dog gnawing on a bone” Mike said, as the elevator ascended. “It’s about Rick Perry.”
“Yes?” Khraa/Astra asked.
Mike asked, “Just what do you plan to do with Rick Perry?”
EPILOGUE
And then there were the questions every crewmember had asked me without end or relief for months even after the Churchill embarked on its debut mission: why in Perditia did I bring the ever-smug Richard Ashland Sinclair Perry III on board with us?
To most of the crew, Rick seemed to be a crewmember with no utility value whatsoever. (In fact, many Terran crewpeople who were huge fans of Star Trek nicknamed him “Dunsel Canuck” — which radically offended Rick upon learning what Trekkers meant by the term connotative of uselessness. Automatically, that word became, to Rick, as derogatory an epithet as the proverbial English anti-African “N” word.)
But even though I clearly explained why I — and AMKEXPRA — wanted “Ricky the Third” on the ship’s duty roster, derision about the decision still ran high…
Dr. Khraa-Veh ven-Bonhoeffer
Admiral, Platinum-Class, AMKEXPRA (Ret’d)
My Cosmos-Spanning Memoirs
BRIDGE OF USS WINSTON CHURCHILL
31 DECEMBER (169 DAYS AFTER MEPHISTULA’S DEATH)
02:48 COORDINATED UNIVERSAL TIME (EARTH-TIME)
“In fact, with all due respect Captain,” said a 1970s Afro-sporting Deputy Security Chief Abby, who was rejuvenated back to her bio-30s, “Rick Perry and his Canuck TV crew bunch are proving to be really tough nuts to crack. And I put super-heavy emphasis on the word ‘nuts!’”
Abby and the others around her laughed on a brightly-lit ovular bridge with a layout resembling a miniature futurist-styled Earthly space mission control center located under the ship’s vast celestial observation dome that was presently in total opacity mode.
“Captain, I must ask one thing, also with all due respect” said Dr. Goldshtein, who was now the Churchill’s Deputy Science Officer, and, like Abby, had also been rejuvenated into his 30-something version of himself with a full head of black hair. “Just why is that belligerent twerp Rick Perry part of the crew?”
“I’ve been wondering about that myself” said Mike, now in his Ship-priest’s uniform with a cross on each upper sleeve. “Why is Richard the Third Canuck with us?”
“As weird as it sounds, Earthlings,” Khraa/Astra said, as she sat in the conn-chair, “that ‘belligerent twerp’, as you call him, really is a dufus-journalist who knows way too much. In addition, Rick also knows how acquire vast amounts of intelligence very, very deftly. He’s being psych-briefed now. Ricky the Third will serve us well and love it.”
“And just how, may I ask,” asked Diplomacy Level-4 trainee Warrant Officer Bambi, “did you get Rick and his pals to serve you with a salute and a ‘Ma’am, yes, ma’am?’”
“Our med-techs have reoriented these CTCers’ slavish iron-clad loyalties away from CTC over towards us” Khraa/Astra said. “There’s still more work to do on these CTCers. But bear in mind that deep down, these Canadian news-beings are just a bunch of mildly slavish human lap-dogs.”
“More like a bunch of dirty dogs!” Velbya said sarcastically.
“Now, Herbs,” Khraa/Astra playfully chastised Velbya, “give Ricky the Third and his CTC scribes a chance. You yourself have dealt with far worse cases and succeeded.”
Velbya sighed, as Bambi said, “By the way, Captain, thanks to you and your people for taking us on, and for seeing that I’m really a diplomat at heart and not a porn bimbo.”
“You’re welcome” Khraa/Astra said. “It shows how good we are in helping one find one’s true self. I’m just sorry we couldn’t save your friend Jessica Bueller.”
“Don’t be” Bambi said. “Before she helped bring Stanton down, Jessica came to faith in Jesus Christ at a New York street mission. I’m just glad Jess is with the Lord now. And please don’t get me to call Stanton by her real name — it’s a major mouthful!”
“If you think that’s a mouthful, Bambi,” Khraa/Astra said, with daring wit, “try saying ‘theoretical theolenvironanthropolsociopsychologist.’”
“Don’t even try to say it, Bambi,” Mike said, “unless you want to go cuckoo!”
“Uhh… Ooh-kay…?” a bamboozled Bambi said, as she momentarily put her hands out with palms up while everyone else laughed. “So, what about Monique Levy?”
“Ms. Levy was too badly wounded to join our crew at this time” Khraa/Astra said. “But she’ll serve as a Clerical officer on the Lincoln. Monique is part of our family.”
Everyone gazed at Earth as it dominated the bridge’s movie theater-sized viewscreen.
“I’m sure that if Bruce Springsteen was here,” Dr. Goldshtein said, “the Boss would look at the Earth on the screen and belt out ‘My Hometown.’”
“I’m sure he would, Goldy” Mike said with a chuckle. “Earth is our global hometown, as sin-infested as it is.” Mike paused, and then continued, “But when Christ returns to our global hometown with His immortalized beloved and sets up His Eternal Kingdom, only then will our planet know truly righteous, just and fair government, as well as re
al, honest, lasting peace.”
“Amen to that!” Khraa/Astra said, as chaplain-husband and captain-wife joined hands.
“Amen!” everyone on the bridge said in reverent unison.
“Well, my good Earthlings, take a good look at your planet” Khraa/Astra said. “You won’t see it for a few Earth-months. But as your ‘Governator’ would say,” Khraa/Astra winked at Earth while imitating Arnold Schwarzenegger, “We’ll be back!”
Everyone shared a brief chuckle as Khraa/Astra and Mike slowly released hands, while mulatto-skinned First Officer Commander Khlattao-Dorhn, an up-through-the-ranks Amkerian born-and-raised AMKEXPRA “prober”, approached his new Captain.
“All celestial readings ascertained and fed into ship’s computers, Captain” Dorhn said with his deep, booming voice. “All decks are ready for first phase of warp-jump.”
“Thanks, Khlatt” Khraa/Astra said. She then turned towards her Level-2 Ensign/Communications Officer Beverly Angela Hickman and ordered, “Ensign Hickman, contact Teleport Control.”
“With pleasure, Captain” said Hickman. As a well-paid but annoyed and bored secretary for a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon with an extremely superficial clientele, she had become a closet fan of science fiction who relished her new unique apprenticeship in space and equally new lease on life. After she gladly carried out Khraa/Astra’s orders, she said, “I have Teleport Control on standby.”
“Thank you, Ensign” Khraa/Astra said, before she addressed the Moonbase’s teleportation controllers, “Churchill to Teleport Control.”
“Teleport Control” spoke a higher-pitched male voice. “Chief Lavork here.”
“Commence teleportation of Churchill to Oort Cloud departure point” ordered Khraa/Astra to the Level-1 Lieutenant/Teleport Control Chief.
“Yes, Captain” Lavork said. “Teleportation from Moonbase to Oort Cloud departure point in in five, four, three, two, one.”