Poverty Rocks! (Rock n' Roll in Outer Space Book 1)

by Douglas Hardee

“Who or what caused these brilliant, healthy, well-born people to consider taking off in a rocket for an unknown planet?

  “Bob Dylan.

  “You see, many folk-centered Earthlings worshipped Dylan and saw him as a messenger, or a prophet, as they say.

  “Then at their Newport Folk Festival in Earth Year 1965, he brought out an electric band which played raucous music, which went against everything the folk protest movement believed in; peace, love, understanding and absolutely no loud electric stuff.

  “So Jonathan and the three others, who were also disappointed in the extreme after the 1965 Newport Folk Festival, and wanted to immigrate to another country, did not know that cosmic circumstances would allow them the opportunity to immigrate to another galaxy. Now, get a load of this Zorbane, the chosen Earth explorers included three men and one woman. That woman was Playboy magazine Playmate, Evangeline Daughtry, your grandfather's secret love friend. By the way, Playboy was an Earth magazine that specialized in buxom nudes. You see, the Playmate's wily astrologer had convinced her that she was destined to travel to a distant planet and be a part of a more advanced civilization. She was not a scientist, as the others were, but she had wanderlust-adventure-first adapter spirit and bodacious female form. Jonathan always said he chose her for the Playmate's revolutionary spirit and reproductive qualities. Jonathan left behind a female scientist, his fiancée, no less, Elisabeth Stein, who was to go with them. She had been his fiancée and life partner until he persuaded Ms. Daughtry to join him at Newport. The man's deviousness was truly mind-blowing, as they often said in the 60s.

  “So, what a heartless cad your grandfather's friend was. Ah, but sometimes karma happens, Zorbane. Your grandfather was a Shaper, but not a well-connected one. Decleanus, your current nemesis, was his younger, more ambitious brother. But Parrimore, a charming rascal like you, stole the Playmate away from Jonathan, and they had two children, one was your father, and the other was his sister, Marvadon, who still holds great sway with the Shapers as a cultural adviser. Do you ever see her? I think not because she wants to distance herself from Ranno as his spirit is still very much persona non-grata in the Shaper world.

  “So, outlaw, your grandmother was a nude model. No wonder you're so brazen!

  “But Zorbane, a note of extreme caution from the Mountain People regarding our Earth friends Jericho and Haskell: Zeon has friends on Earth who share their Shaper views and will do anything for the right price. We think our friends are in high weeds.

  “More lately, I have to end transmission.”

  Zorbane read the message on the monitor then quickly got up and began to pace around his spacecraft. He was experiencing his life through a new prism; it was about to take on a very new dimension. Trax had made it after all. But it looked like Haskell and Jericho were in a shit storm.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Enter Sandman

  I will seize fate by the throat; it shall certainly never wholly overcome me.

  –Ludwig van Beethoven

  Jimmy Sands gunned the Toyota 4Runner down the gravel road. He could barely see the other car in his rearview mirror.

  It was probably some yahoo hunter going out to get some evening shooting in. He had been following these two hillbilly moonshiners for about a few days now, probing, looking for a weakness, seeing what their daily routines were. He had always been thorough in his preparation for a hit. In fact, one of the reasons he was in such demand was his reputation as a meticulous, detail freak. But this time he had to cut his reconnaissance time short. He had been called up this morning by this Benjamin guy out of the blue. The man had breathlessly said he had to accelerate his timetable and hit these guys because they were about to leave the area or do something or whatever. Hell, half the money had been wired to him an hour after he got the call. It was a lot of money. Due diligence was part of his brand, but, we’re talking some serious jack, here. It was game time.

  After driving another twenty minutes into the forest, he saw another dirt road and turned off onto the shoulder. Bringing his car to a stop, and after carefully scanned the surrounding terrain, he was satisfied that he was completely alone. He popped opened his trunk, and exiting the driver's door he made his way back there. Reaching down he picked up his sniper rifle and inspected it with his usual professional acumen. Great weapon, he thought, if he only had to silence one person. But for this operation, which meant disposing of two targets almost simultaneously, but operating a much closer range, he would need his AK-47 with a sound suppressor and his Beretta.

  He would creep the tall black man's house tonight where they met most every day. That much he had learned from Mr. Morgan's sources. Ideally, he would have liked more time, to study his prey, learn more about their backgrounds, and habits. But sometimes the situation demands flexibility. Yes, out here in the middle of the sticks, he would have to adapt to the circumstances. He took a deep breath and closed his trunk. This wouldn't be a walk in the park, but, for whatever reason, someone really wanted these guys snuffed and were willing to pay down one hell of a deposit to get it done, quickly.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Mountain Grown

  Out in the cosmos, Zorbane was on autopilot navigating a route that kept him clear of surveillance. As he was doing some routine maintenance on his craft, going through his checklist, his monitor began to light up with a message.

  Transmission for Zorbane from Trax:

  As you and me and discussed partner, introducing moonshine into the Mountain People culture must be done with great care as they can be more emotional and excitable than their fellow Zeonese. But, ironies of ironies, it is me my friend who longs for the first taste of the evening! Maybe I'm becoming a Mountain lush! Who knew? I've also discovered that being out of one's element can also have the advantage of sharpening perspective. Yes. Yes. How's the song go...I can see clearly now? Or the other song you love. "I can see for miles and miles and miles."

  By staying in the Mountains, I now realize I will never see home or what is left of my family as the Force Field Fence has never been penetrated by the Mountain People, except during the 1966 plague and that hero, Rabine, died of the malaria himself while trying to destroy the remaining Shapers.

  Shortly after that, in 1967, Jonathan and his malcontent Earthlings landed and saved the remaining Shapers, killing all the mosquitos through the DDT knowledge they had brought from Earth. But the Earthling ringleader, Jonathan, was clever. He had also brought several automatic weapons with him from Earth as "motivation" for any Zeonese who wanted to renege on their bargain with the Earthlings. Also, as further insurance, he had the formula memorized, so no one else could learn it, giving him further leverage. Zeon had lost their entire security force to the malaria outbreak. And, as a precaution, all their arms were locked up due to standard operating procedure except in case of emergency. This prevented any Mountain folk from possibly getting their hands on the dangerous arms. These strict protocols, and the daunting Force Field Fence, had made Zeon too complacent. Except for their aircraft, which would be of little use in this situation, they were at the mercy of the Earth malcontents or anyone else who wanted to capitalize on their plight.

  Of course, they needn't have worried because over time, the Earthlings intended to blend in and marry and become part of the power structure of Zeon. It was a most natural union. In essence, Jonathan Richmond and the Shapers of Zeon had much in common, in particular, a loathing of loud, passionate music and public displays of affection.

  Also, heads up, Zorbane, Haskell and Jericho are being monitored by followers of some Big Kahuna of the Antioch Baptist Church in Cleardale. It seems none other than Decleanus himself contacted these fine fellows, with whom they share a hatred for electrified loud music with libidinous lyrics. In other words, no raunchy lowdown sounds for Ze
on or the Baptist Church. Anyway, to break it down, they aim to eliminate our friends unless we do something about it. How do I know this, my friend? Because, like Decleanus, the Mountain People have their own eyes and ears on The Shapers and from this they learn much.

  The Mountain People have longed served as the agri arm for Zeon and profited from this relationship. They also supplied domestic help for Zeon, as people who were poor would ship their less gifted children to Zeon proper where they would be trained for whatever tasks were needed at the time. They became nannies, gardeners, caretakers of all types, and sanitation specialists. Once there, they would toil for their more enlightened brethren until they were no longer needed.

  But now, after being subjugated for so many years by Zeon, the once fierce Mountain People have lost most of their once rebellious spirit. We plan to change that with Earth rock 'n' roll.

  If these most sublime sounds can change the course of Earth's Western Civilization, surely it could add a much-needed incendiary spark to our sleepy planet?

  Yours Deep inside the Mountains,

  Trax

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Invasion of the Zombie Rockers

  As much as Zorbane wanted to rescue Haskell and Jericho from the authorities, it was a risky trip, because as slippery as he was, if the Earth police caught him, he had no magic to get out of a cell. And that meant that his revolution would be stillborn.

  He weighed rescuing them, because there were certain risks that were now in play that weren't on his earlier sojourn. On his last trip he had made to Earth with Trax, Earth and Zeon's authorities were not actively looking for them. Their departure from Zeon was fully authorized; they had just taken liberties with their patrol path and entered into Earth's atmosphere almost as an accident. You could say it was a subconscious mistake made by a pilot who years ago had been introduced to some of Earth's greatest musical artists. And to make this rescue evermore difficult, Zeon's best pilots would be trying to intercept them, and though Zorbane knew his planet's defense systems inside and out, no pilot, not matter how skilled, can dismiss their superb radar and detection systems. Earth's defenses were not nearly so advanced. He had the spacecraft and skill to avoid them, but he would also need some luck, which one cannot always rely on.

  Yes, getting back to Zeon safely would the hardest part of this journey, if he chose to take it.

  Jericho sensed from his last transmission that Zorbane was having second thoughts about trying to rescue them.

  Late one night of fitful, restless sleep, the lanky moonshiner awoke with a start and decided the only way to ensure their rescue was to come clean with Zorbane. He got out of bed with renewed conviction, went over to his computer, and slowly inserted the device that would allow him to send a message to Zorbane. He wrote:

  “The night we met and we traded CDs for hair restoration, you asked me why I chose those 10 particular artists out of so many that forged the rock 'n' roll genre...well, it's because Haskell and I have the DNA for them.

  “Inserting those dynamic and unique genes into a new, start-up civilization would pretty much guarantee some serious thunder and lightning.”

  Zorbane was at a loss for words when he read Jericho's note. The possibilities with the actual DNA of these musical wizards were endless, he thought.

  He knew friends, brilliant scientists, who could make this happen. Now, it would require some ingenuity and courage to get them involved without alerting the Shapers, but, hey, doesn't anything worthwhile have an element of risk air?

  Yes, DNA of this magnitude was a new wrinkle that would add some potent spice to his revolutionary stew.

  It seems the ever-resourceful Louise Barrillot and her mother had acquired the DNA of many musical artists over the years, believing they might have value one day. Who knows, thought Louise, one day there might be a breakthrough in science for the recreation of life. And like Haskell and Jericho, they collected DNA because they were music fanatics. When Louise told Haskell of this during their torrid lost week in New Orleans, he filed it away. And when he told Jericho about her DNA-hoarding one afternoon while they were running some shine, they ended up buying some samples from the cash-strapped gambling soothsayer. It was ironic, because Jericho and Haskell had dreamed of acquiring the DNA of famous musicians themselves while staring into a pitch-black sky in Iraq. Lots of time and the proximity of death can cause people to cogitate on some way-out ideas.

  The DNA from these legends didn't come cheap, especially Mahalia's and Elvis's of course. Now some would have said such exotic musical memorabilia was a big waste of money. Indeed, Jericho's ex-wife had told him so on several occasions that he was a dreamer and that the "DNA of old musicians was a total waste of time and money."

  That idea had often crossed his mind as well. Now, it looked like his dreams might pay off.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Smoke on the Water

  The night air was thick with humidity and the wind was out of the East when Jimmy Sands parked his 4Runner about a quarter-mile from Jericho's farm.

  He was dressed in black fatigues, his face painted in dark green cammo. The black CrossFit trainer shoes felt light beneath his weight. He calmly slung his AK over his shoulder, checked the magazines in his pouch, and carefully inspected his Beretta one last time. He then began to walk toward to the distant lights where he could faintly hear the sound of music. He took one last pull on his cigarette. Jimmy was a fitness fanatic but he still liked his cigarettes, especially when he was on the job and danger called. Soldiers have been smoking forever, what the hell, he thought.

  Back at Jericho's, Haskell was outside on the smoker tending to some ribs they had been preparing to finish off and feast on tonight. Jericho has perfected this rub; he is a seriously talented chef, Haskell thought, and that attention to detail stood him well in mixing up their moonshine.

  Jericho had learned to cook from his grandmother in Philadelphia. She was from a long line of women in his family who excelled in the culinary arts. Young Jericho had been an apt student and he fondly remembered his afternoons with her as she prepared supper for his mother, who was working one of her two jobs.

  His grandmother was known for her fantastic sense of smell and she taught Jericho about spices and aromas and their place in cooking. When he was 10, she quizzed him on some different meat sauces and to her surprise he nailed the answers. "Looks like you got the nose my mother had and she passed onto to me. She could pick out a smell from the restaurant way down the block. My dad couldn't get away with sipping whisky or nothin' without her knowin' about it," she laughed.

  Jimmy worked his way down to the back of the farm. He could see the big white man working the smoker. He knew there was a dog at this place but as he scanned the property, he saw no sign of it.

  As always when they cooked out, Hubie was inside with Jericho grabbing a scrap when he could.

  Jimmy then improvised his plan. He was lucky the two men were apart. First, he would cap the guy by the smoker with his silencer equipped pistol. Then he would creep the house and cap the big black guy and be on his way back to civilization.

  Inside, Hubie was laying on the kitchen floor, the place to be on Thursday night smokers. He was staring at the back door where Jericho had left a few minutes ago. The Spinners were next to come blasting out of the very loud and expensive sound system. The Philly sound was filling the farm with the magic of “Could It Be I'm Falling' in Love.”

  Moving along stealthily in the trees, Jimmy smiled. Could he be luckier? Loud music to mask his movements, a very nice bonus. He clicked the safety off on the pistol and moved stealthily forward to the big white man. The man was dancing, oblivious to his coming demise.

  Jimmy was totally in the zone now. He had stumbled into a
lucky drama here. Two big, athletic guys, men who could have caused him some real trouble had things been different, but they were drinking and blasting music, making his task so much easier. Sober, quiet, alert, they would have posed a much more difficult target.

  Hubie unwound his solid frame and rose off the kitchen floor. He walked slowly over to the screen door. As usual, his master had gone to relieve himself. He loved to piss outside on a night like this. He was like me in many respects, thought Hubie, liked to relieve himself outside, eat, chase girls and stay the hell out of the heat. It was true, that saying: "Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun." Hubie couldn't agree more.

  Jimmy was no more than 20 feet from his gyrating target, taking dead aim, when without warning the lights went out. He never heard or felt a thing, just darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Radio Gaga is What We Need

  Zorbane addresses his audience:

  "As the first official Intergalactic Pirate DJ, I want to read the lyrics to one of my favorite tunes by the Earth British group, Queen. Their lead front man singer star of the first magnitude was named after a planet, which is appropriate and justly so. Freddy Mercury was his name and he shall rule on these waves for quite some time. He predicted the coming plague of music videos. Freddy was a visionary, no doubt. I don't have his sounds yet. They are coming, friendships, but I will read his prophecy lyrics. We will bring his magic and that of others to Zeon.