Astronomical

1995, Columbia, MO

The Midwestern hills of middle country, in a far off year of new beginnings, lived families and people of a normal birth. It begs to say, “What happened to aged thoughts in future existence”, which changed the method of growing old and learning anew. What changed? Nothing changed in the middle country. A farm wife’s lessons and her love for her family remains the same.

“ROBERT!!!!”

…….a time deferred.

The voice screamed from a house in the middle of farmland country, in the distance. The full grown wheat was a beautiful sight. Like a golden ocean as the cows muddled leisurely through the fields.

“ROBERT, darn where is that boy?” yelled a middle aged woman standing impatiently on the front wooden porch. The house was built by old hands so long ago. Dirt stained windows provided a hazy view of the wheat filled plains. The woman stood, blue eyes stern, waiting for a response of any kind from her absent minded son. She wore an old fashioned white and blue country dress with no make-up for non-ego appearances. She continued to glare as her husband walked out of the house wanting to know what the commotion was about.

“Honey, let the boy play!” spoke a man while smoking his auburn wooden pipe. The old farmer wore a gray tee shirt with dusty blue jeans. His hands were masked with dirt from his toiling of afternoon plowing.

“Benny, I do not want to hear this,” replied the wife. “Robert knows what time he has to be home.”

“Darlene, we’ve been through this a hundred times, let him be. This is the first time in a spell that he’s had friends who wanted to play with him.”

“That doesn’t mean he forgoes his awareness of time.”

“No it doesn’t, just let him be for now.”

Darlene turned slowly to Benny as she walked towards him with a smirk on her face.

“Ok, I’ll wait at least another 30 minutes or so.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Benny and Darlene Harrison were the last of the natural Missouri farmers. During this time period, farms were run by robots. Vegetable and fruits were grown mostly from test tubes and cloning. Benny learned the arts of agriculture from his father Donald Harrison when he was 11 years old, close to the age of his son. Benny knew his son was different, a dreamer who wanted more from life than the rigorous, tedium living of a farmer. He marveled quietly at his son as he read dictionaries and books to no end on subjects’ varying from Aviation, Astronomy, Chemistry, and of course Space Travel in the private corner of his room. He glared outward to the patch of trees as he turned to his wife, “He should be over there.”

“The trees?” questioned Darlene.

“Of course, where else would boys of his age hang out? Come let’s eat. I’m so hungry I could eat that whole turkey in there.”

“Uh huh, let’s go then dear. You might have done so already.”

A young man sat tearfully next to a tree stump, drying his eyes. His shirt was torn and blood trickled slowly from his lip onto his blue jean shorts. He stood up and glared strongly to see if anyone had seen him in the past 10 minutes or so. His skin complexion was a light olive color. His brown eyes matched perfectly with his brown hair. He rubbed his chest and felt a slight pain. He wanted to go home but not until he had straightened himself out. He dreaded answering questions from his parents as to what happened. He wanted to forget this day but a chuckle of voices coming from his rear made that wish impossible to grant.

“OH, ROBBY POO….,” mocked a boy leading a pack of three other young men.

He wanted friends but not this way. He thought Steve and the others wanted to play, but he was a fool. As soon as they reached the patch of woods, he was beaten up. This was the same tired routine he was used to getting at school. The footsteps became louder as he thought of one other alternative.

He ran.

“GET THAT BITCH!!!”

The boy moved fast, like a track star, jumping over rocks and sliding through numerous trees to evade capture. The pounding of footsteps became louder as his attackers meant him more harm. He didn’t look back but kept staring forward looking for an escape or at least a place to hide.

He found none.

Then suddenly, he felt his feet swept from under him as he was tripped up by Steve. He crashed into the muddy soil and the other three boys pounced on him. He fought viciously, “LET ME GO! LET ME GO!!!!”

Steve ignored his cries. He placed one foot on his chest and snapped, “LOOKIE AT THE NERD TURD,” screamed the bully. He was twice the size of Robert! WE’RE BORED, SO IT’S TIME FOR ANOTHER ASS BEATING!”

Ass beating...

Ass beating...

Ass beating…

Could it just end?

“Colonel, Colonel, wake up!”

A middle aged man continued to struggle in his sleep with no reply.

“SIR, WAKE UP!”

At once the man rolled strongly out of the bed onto the hard floor, bruising his elbow in the process. His eyes were now wide open. He glared at his secretary who knelt beside him in deep concern.

“Sorry Colonel, your meeting with General Hayden is in ten minutes,” replied the young woman.

“Oh, uh yes quite right,” replied the Colonel rubbing his eyes while emoting a swift yawn.

“It seems you were having another nightmare, Sir.”

“It’s of no concern, carry on with your duties,” replied the Colonel sharply.

“Yes, of course Sir.”

The young woman stood upright and walked out of his office closing the door tightly shut. The middle aged man stood up and glanced at the clock. It was exactly 10:50 am. He examined the calendar, November 3, 2025. “2025, not 1995……”

The office held a normalcy of a sorts as well as numerous plaques of brave soldiers. A picture of the United States flag took up most of the right side wall. His desk was orderly and contained two pencils, two pens, a notepad, calendar, calculator, staple, pencil sharpener and a picture of his parents. He was a long way from his home of Columbia, MO. His current residence was Cape of Carnival, FL (formally known as Cape Canaveral which was destroyed by an invasion of Cuba in the year 1991). He usually took naps in the morning on his pull out auburn colored couch that hid the numerous coffee stains from late night work. He had no wife, no children and didn’t want a family. He was the prototype soldier. His life was dedicated to the state with no regards of a personal life.

“I hate dreams, too much of reality for my taste….”

He walked out of his office and stared into the mirror to see if he was presentable. He combed his dark brown hair which was shaped in a standard crew cut. His dark brown eyes were a little glossy but manageable for a good impression. He was clean shaven of course, the trademark of an officer of the Space Core. He stood at a medium built 6’3. His clear skin made his face handsome and pleasing to the eye. He took good care of himself. He never ate too much red meat and drank only on weekends (two beers every Saturday night). He yawn again, rubbed his eyes which gave way to tiny light sores near the outline.

Many sleepless nights, so many sleepless nights. The gift of unwanted dreams and welcoming nightmares.

“Ms. Baker, call Lt. Greer and tell him to meet me in Shuttle Bay 385 in one hour,” spoke the Colonel while walking through the outer door.

“Yes, at once Sir.”

The deceptively well groomed officer walked heavily out of the office and down the hallway of Building 12. This particular building housed many officers of the U.S. Space Air Core. His forehead gave way to a light sweat, the redness of his cheeks were apparent. More so about the meeting with General Hayden due to the seriousness of the impending war with Nexus Jor (formerly named Jupiter). The Ambassador meeting held on the second moon of Aeras Prime (Mars) did not fare too well last month. Reports indicated that Nexus Jor Ambassadors Num 4, Num 3, and Trime 4 (people of Nexus Jor each have a number in their names to show which level of superiority they belong to) were in attendance. Single numbers were the elite. Double, triple and numbers with a one in front were the next class of importance. Double numbers with even numbers were inferior to the double ones that began with odd numbers. At last he reached the General’s office that was located on the top floor. As he got off the sonic lift, there was a knocking sound followed by…..

“Come in!”

“Sir, Colonel Harrison reporting as ordered,” retorted the Colonel promptly as he opened the door.

“At ease, please sit Colonel Harrison.”

He closed the door and sat down as his felt a little at ease from the softness of the chair. General Maxillae Hayden’s office was impressive. Many awards and numerous Medals of Honor filled the room. The smell of expensive cigars also inhabited the room from one that was recently smoked. The General loved such habits. They were bad habits to most but his personal enjoyment, nonetheless. He was known as “General Smoky” among his lower officers. He viewed three nice sized couches along with a mega computer and a video phone. His window gave an imposing view of the base and faced all fifty Exon Striker fighter ships.

“Mission Alpha 4566 has gained clearance by the President,” spoke General Hayden while lighting his metal pipe. With your background and consequently your degrees in Astrophysics, encountering different life forms in their natural habitat should come in handy to complete the task.

“Yes, understood.”

“Your crew has been assembled. You do know Lt. William Greer, of course.”

“Yes, General,” replied Col. Harrison. “Who are the other ones?”

“Glad you asked son,” remarked General Hayden as his white eyebrows slanted. He was another solider of the Core and donned the same crew cut with the exception of white hairs. He displayed a beard and wore black glasses. The left side of his face displayed a medium sized scar which he had obtained from a skirmish with Trazons Rebels of the outer rings of Tune (formerly known as Neptune) seven years ago. The General handed Col. Harrison a brown folder with details of their classified mission. “Everything is in there including the information on your other two crew members.”

“I understand, Sir,” replied Col. Harrison as he started to skim through the dossier.

“The experimental shuttle fighter, Amaco, is ready for flight,” General Hayden remarked between puffs. “You and your crew must break through the Outer Edge and various black holes at the edge of our solar system. Hopefully, you and your crew will be able to make contact with new life forms. If contact is successful, open lines of communication must be established in order to build more alliances. If war holds our future at bay, we will need allies.”

“Sir, with all due respect, the outer barrier hasn’t been attempted in five years. The Phillol was destroyed after one minute from initial contact with the outer edge.”

“Mistakes have been corrected Colonel, do you comply with your assignment?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good, your meeting with Lt. Greer won’t be alone; the other members of your crew will be present. Go over your plans and report back to me tomorrow at 2:00pm for a final briefing. Procedures must be precise. Your launch will take place a week from now. Is that understood?”

“Yes Sir, no questions offered.”

“Good, get to work soldier. We will meet again tomorrow.”

Colonel Harrison walked out. He closed the door behind him and wondered about his mission. He strolled down the corridor and read up on the other crew members. He smiled inwardly. He couldn’t get the thoughts of war out of his mind or the talks of vengeance and death. Nexus Jor seemed so foreign to him, like a distant relative calling out of the blue or a new flavor of ice cream from a candy stand; it was just not normal. He realized such thoughts were not for a soldier to have, especially an honored officer of the Space Core. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind and hopefully they would be forgotten.

But what was never forgotten was the song that he had heard during basic training. The same damn song that played at night and all night. All night long it echoed off of the blank walls, the two way windows and the marble blue floor. It endorsed the duty of men or so it was told to him by his commanding sergeant. Those speakers kept the words humming. Those speakers were more determined to condition good officers, more so than the human element. You see, machines never question orders but humans have the potential to, which made them more fragile. The words were smoothing once he was older, more seasoned and of course more loyal to the Core…..

♫♫Listen good solider

Don’t think ahead

Listen to the Commanders

From the books you read.

March good solider

March to the land

Listen for the howling

Of the Viking clans.

Listen good solider

Listen very well

Once a brave solider

We’ll never touch Hell

Learn good soldier

Learn what you can

Memorize your enemy

To break their stand

Kill good soldier

Kill all the weak

Make sure they fear you

While they bleed

Love good soldier

Love the Core

Blessed are the men

Who never ask for more♫♫?

He soon noticed that he was at the meeting bay. He viewed his fellow officer, who was a grade under him, Lt. William Greer. His close friends also knew him by his nickname, “Catfish,” the lover of seafood.

“Robert, this is surprising,” remarked Lt. Greer. “You are two minutes late, amazing.”

Lt. William Greer stood 6’5 and with a stocky build. His eyes were green along with his brown goatee. His complexion was dark brown. He was a native of the United Country of West Africa (stemming from a 10 year war on the continent of Africa, each section was combined to one country, Central, South, East, and North Africa). Greer was a great wrestler with degrees in Physics from Penn State University in his home state (grew up in Pittsburgh). His parents died in a car accident when he was six years old and he was mostly raised by his grandfather, the retired Lt. General Marcus Greer.

“Sorry Catfish, I was daydreaming so my pace was slower,” replied Col. Harrison.

“It’s of no matter. What’s the verdict from the General?”

“Mission Assist 2.”

Lt. Greer stood quiet and glared at his friend with his eyes wide open and titling his head leisurely to the side. He thought the mission was cast aside last week in hopes of another meeting with the Ambassadors of Nexus Jor.

“I s-see, when?”

“ASAP.”

“The heads don’t play huh? Ok. I guess the other members should be arriving soon.”

“Look behind you.”

Both men turned suddenly and viewed two beautiful women. One blonde and of European descent and the other appeared to be of Asian origins. Both were about the same height, 5’4 with athletic builds. The European woman had blue eyes with very smooth like skin. The Asian woman had black hair with green eyes and nice shaped calf muscles that stood out under the dress she was wearing.

“I am Col. Robert Harrison and this is my second in command Lt. William Greer,” spoke Col. Harrison. “State your name and title.”

“Sgt. Ernestine Crawford,” replied the woman of Mediterranean European descent.

“Dr. Tani Noguchi,” replied the woman of Asian origins.

“We will do backgrounds later. A formal introduction meeting will be held in the morning at 10:00 am. Report to my office, located on the 4th floor, in room 211. Also, to learn of your room assignments, speak with the Customs Secretary Mrs. Verges.”

“We already have sir,” responded Sgt. Crawford.

“Good, don’t be late. Pray that you are never late for any of my meetings.”

“Understood,” replied both women including Lt. Greer.

With that, the women departed the bay as Lt. Greer studied them quite closely.

“Too beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Lieutenant, do you honestly think the Core would assign useless personnel?”

“Meaning Robert?”

“Meaning this isn’t a beauty contest asshole.”

“I was joking Colonel.”

“Think about this, Dr. Tani Noguchi is married to a school teacher but more importantly, she is an authority on Chemistry. She studied at Washington University in St. Louis as well as Harvard where she received her Doctorate. Sgt. Ernestine Crawford has only a Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Science from Kansas State University but, she is the main person who created the network for Raytheon Weapons Corp’s mass manufacturing of Mega Jules Missiles.”

“In other words, they would eat me alive if I’m not on my game,” retorted Lt. Greer.

“Yes, without any seasoning.”

“Well, I’m about to enjoy the rest of my R&R. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Nice and early I might add.”

“Clearly understood, Commander.”

Lt. Greer exited the bay whistling the tune from basic training. It was the exact same tune that had filled his mind earlier, the same damn tune. He then noticed that he had a missed call from home on his global cellular phone from his mother. His face frown a little but gave way to a smile. He had been avoiding her for days and would continue such actions, for the time being. He walked out of the bay but through the outer doors into the park yard of ships, Terrain Elite Fighters. These particular ships had just returned home from a scout mission to the outer rings of Venus. In this year, it was discovered that Venus had rings that were invisible for many decades. The minerals from them helped develop the fuel that powered their ships to depart from the atmosphere.

The winds were very cool for this time of day. The grayish skies marked a foreshadowing a decorated horizon of a gray blueish color with no absolute meaning but he knew his reward would come in the form of attainment. Maybe it was his conceitedness, but this train of thought was music to him, pleasant music like boot camp. The runways were metal, not concrete, but rather refined elements that could embrace the tempered engines of the space travel crafts. He looked at the Terrain Fighters. They were beautiful, smooth, dark metallic ships with gray and black tones. The windows were solid black with huge slanted wings accompanied by a small black tail fin. These particular fighters were suited for one pilot only. AI systems, named Hawkins 15, filled in as the companion soldier. All of the Space Core spacecrafts were made with the same metal, Linark Ore, very cold and soulless. He observed numerous pilots running across the near runway as the sound of a siren pierced the air. It was a training exercise, mostly for an impending attack from the Nexus Jor.

His walk halted. At last, he faced the shuttle fighter, Amaco. “A ship this size is definitely bigger than three Terrain Fighters put together,” mumbled Col. Harrison. The same body armor covered the shuttle as well as an array of colors; gray, white and red. Four long horizontal windows and several cannons were connected to each wing. The engine thrusters were enormous. Its fuel consumption was very expensive to maintain but the Space Core was funded through capital means. For some odd reason, he now understood what his father told him long ago, “Capitalism stunts the growth of man’s natural ability to raise from lesser means…” He remembered his school, “Yes I remember Keynesian economics,” remarked Col. Harrison to himself as he smiled. He loved Economics and even wanted to be a Professor when he was of young age. Numerical Socialism was the current economy that the United States of Western Lands developed from Keynesian Economics. The wealth was controlled from three major entities of government which was spread equally (well as close to equally as man sees fit in his development of evolution train of thought) throughout the Western Hemisphere. The Ruling of Perόn Laws resided in Buenos Aires, Argentina and regulated all laws throughout the land. Space & Land Core Federal Complex (acronym of SLCC) located in Cape of Carnival, FL, housed all military and explorations on land and in outer space. Finally, the Democracy House of Socialism, located in Saskatchewan, Canada in the District of Mackenzie, made up the executive governing authority of the United States of Western Lands (consequently all three branches were made up of different representatives throughout the lands of the Western Hemisphere but in emergencies or near emergency situations, the President and his/her cabinet were moved to the old Capital of the former United States; Washington D.C.). “My mind is drifting again----this ship must be ready for the mission, no excuses,” remarked the Colonel. “I do not want to endanger any of my crew’s lives depending upon faulty equipment.”

He climbed onto the outside ladder of the ship before being interrupted by a Guardsman.

“Excuse me Sir, do you have authorization to….”

Col. Harrison fully turned and faced the guard. The guard’s mouth dropped open like a hundred pound foot had just been placed in it. He then replied, “Sorry S-sir, I d-didn’t know it was….”

“No need Soldier, your name please?” asked a focused Col. Harrison.

“Corporal Benito Vito-Moore, Sir,” answered the nervous soldier as his salute hand was still shaking and the smell of his deodorant was unmasking itself.

“At ease,” remarked a pleased Col. Harrison. “You were doing your job. I might add, in good spirits. Everyone needs to be identified before examining classified property.”

“Yes Sir, thank you Sir.”

“Be on your way.”

Col. Harrison continued to stand on the ladder as the soldier marched away quickly. He glared at the gray skies that bullied the sun into hiding. “Damn cloudy days,” mumbled the Colonel. He lit his pipe and began to smoke. He heard a ringing sound emoting from his pocket. He took out his global phone and answered, “Good morning mother----yes, yes I know--- how is he doing anyway?”

Back at the base of operations, Building 12, Dr. Tani Noguchi sat in her room after unpacking her suitcase. Her items were delivered before she had arrived to her room, a note to excellent work by the Core. She marveled at her mission of meeting new life out of their parent solar system. All of the work she’d completed on the education level; training in secondary schools in St. Paul, Minnesota as well as in New Mexico City, Mexico would finally be rewarded. She smiled to herself at the thought that her past professionalism would be noticed by her peers. Her phone rang, “Hello! Oh darling, thank you…”

The conversation was personal but much needed as Dr. Noguchi smiled again, this time more greatly due to her tiresome day. She lovingly held a conversation with her brilliant chemist of a husband, Dr. Mica’ Noguchi.

“Yes, everything is well so far----Yes, the directions for cooking roost beef are on the stove----Your mother should have taught you how to cook, at least better…”

She laughed a little which brightened her mood a little more.

“How’s Malika? Oh, well put her on the phone.”

At that moment, sounds of a little child crying were heard over the phone. Through the crying and coughing, a little voice spoke tenderly, “Mommy---please come home.”

“Mee Sha, Mee Sha, do you want to hear your ancestors’ song?”

The crying quickly ceased.

Dr. Noguchi smiled. Her eyes watered a bit before she sang to her tearful child. This was the same song her father sang to her, amazingly enough, before he departed on work missions with his old firm.

♫♫Be quiet, be quiet

My little girl is sleeping

This sleep was bought at the market

Near the king’s palace,

Not gold, not silver

I gave her only a pearl necklace

That’s why she is sleeping so peacefully

Making the room so bright ♫♫