Klutar: The Inter-Terrestrial Volume 4

By Chad Descoteaux

What do you do when someone you always loved and respected goes down a dark path? You see where they're going. You care about them enough to not support them in their current course of action. You're on the right side of history. They're the one throwing away their accomplishments, mental health and possibly their life. Why doesn't it hurt any less?
An inter-terrestrial Neptunian-human hybrid named Charlie asks himself these very questions when tragedy befalls his family. The tragedy affects the whole family, but his father, Neptunian scientist Bloxnor, is thrust into a single-minded quest for revenge that jeopardizes treasured relationships and his career as a planetary diplomat.
Follow Charlie as he struggles to bring his father back from his dark path, or at least minimize the damage to loved ones, while he steps up as the new patriarch of his intergalactic family...and captain of a starship.
The 4th book and a new direction for The Inter-Terrestrial series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chad Descoteaux
• Release date: Jul 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215223475

Chad Descoteaux

I am a self-published, mildly autistic science fiction author who combines quirky sci-fi elements with issues that we can all relate to. Check out my official website www.turtlerocketbooks.com

Book preview

KLUTAR:

THE INTER-TERRESTRIAL

volume 4

by Chad Descoteaux

Copyright 2023

Turtle Rocket Books

READ the other three books in

THE INTER-TERRESTRIAL series and other stories from this multiverse at…

turtlerocketbooks.com

(We have Kindle, paperback and audiobooks.)

PROLOGUE

Easing open a space shuttle door after popping a series of airlocks, a green-skinned, Neptunian-human hybrid named Charlie felt relief wash over him as he stepped out into tall green grass. Not only because this shuttle landed safely, a short walk from where he grew up, but because he was in soothing, peaceful surroundings that filled his heart with calm.

The wind whistled through tall trees as birds sang along with the breeze like they were beatboxing with it. There was something about the way Earth birds sang that was unique and different from the spine-chilling moans produced by flying creatures on other planets, including Neptune. Upon hearing the melodic chirping, a slow smile spread across Charlie’s face as he reached down to help his fully-Neptunian wife Tuklexa out of the shuttle.

"That is beautiful, Tuklexa agreed about the birds, taking a deep breath. Very peaceful. Not like those skull scrapers on Kalichore."

Don’t get me started on Kalichore birds, Charlie replied, slamming the shuttle door shut behind him. Those vibrations. Yeesh!

Charlie felt right at home in this Earth forest, but wished he was there under more pleasant circumstances. When Tuklexa held her husband’s bumpy hand in a sympathetic manner, it was time for them to walk into the small, fountain-decorated town of North Tinklebrook.

There was far more hustle and bustle in North Tinklebrook than Charlie remembered from the last time he was here. This town’s population had exploded in the past few years, not because of any bombs, but because of an influx of newcomers from the stars. It brought joy to Charlie’s heart to see how mankind’s confirmed knowledge that humans are not alone in the universe had affected this small community. He saw beings of different skin colors and races, walking here and there, in and out of stores and other businesses, natives of not only different countries on Earth, but surrounding planets as well. The diversity was no less pervasive here than it was where Charlie and Tuklexa currently lived and worked, on Phase Earth, headquarters of the United Scientists Guild (USG).

Phase Earth was a cylindrical, skyscraper-sized space station orbiting its namesake. Its crew had taken a special interest in solving problems unique to this solar system’s third planet. It made Charlie smile to see human children in North Tinklebrook playing tag with children from other planets, laughing together as their parents watched nearby, chatting like old friends, exchanging stories, laughs and phone numbers.

Charlie noticed a cracked wooden sign, hanging from a lamp post by a rusty chain. It read ‘Nail Gun Neil’s Showcase of the Transmundane’ in faded paint. There was an arrow pointing them down an adjacent street. Seeing this sign brought a mix of emotions to Tuklexa’s heart. I’m gonna see where you grew up, she said, trying to sound excited.

Yeah, Charlie replied, gesturing towards some nearby woods. We’re close to where you and I first met too, babe. Tuklexa smiled, remembering the ship that took Charlie away from Earth for a reunion with his father many years ago. I hope the eulogy hasn’t started.

It was an open casket funeral, outdoors, on the grounds of a circus the deceased owned and operated for many years. This circus was Nail Gun Neil Lebowski’s life’s work and his passion, creating a place where the performers, many of them deformed outcasts, could feel at home. There were rows of chairs, surrounded by filthy, tattered circus tents and broken-down trailers. These chairs were filled with many of the genetically unique individuals Nail Gun Neil dedicated his life to helping. Tuklexa saw a man with lobster hands waving at Charlie, sitting between two equally mutated humans, one having three-eyes and the other shark teeth. Charlie waved back, despite his eyes being fixated on the speaker, the one standing at the podium, bringing more tears to his eyes with her words. Tuklexa hugged Charlie, knowing full well who this was.

It was his mom.

Becky (McGee) Mackenzie came to this circus decades ago, after her grandfather was murdered, to give her half-alien, inter-terrestrial son a better life. She saw what a nurturing community Neil had created for these unique children and knew this was the best place for him to grow up. Staying on as a martial arts instructor, Becky saw first-hand the familial environment Neil had created in what was seen by the public as a bizarre freak show.

I think Neil’s true legacy is that he gave people a chance…a chance to express themselves, to shine, rise up, to work hard, even if the rest of the world was just beating them down. Becky poured her heart out before seeing Charlie standing in the back. She took a second to smile at him before getting back to her speech. My hope for everybody here today, if you’ve been affected by Neil’s kindness, please pay it forward. Try to understand what people have been going through and give them a chance. Thank you.

An enthusiastic round of applause by a small collection of sideshow performers made Becky smile as she walked away from the podium. A red-skinned, Martian-born Methodist minister named Jamyles took her place as Becky ran over to Charlie, throwing her arms around him, more tears flowing.

We will now pass the collection plate, said Jamyles. He was soon engulfed by a long shadow, cast over the podium. He turned to see a six-foot, broad shouldered, half-man/half-star-nosed mole named Xerto, holding the Boxcar Willie collector’s plate Jamyles was going to use for money collection.

A sigh of relief washed over the audience as Jamyles was knocked out after being hit across the face hard with this plate. The preacher slumped to the ground with a bloody nose as another friend of the deceased, a lizard-like mutant who called himself Mariachi, announced, refreshments will be served. This prompted polite applause as Xerto hoisted Jamyles onto his shoulder, promptly carrying him off circus grounds.

Through the course of this service, Neil’s casket was slowly filled with flowers, pictures, notes and cards from his sizeable found family and other well-wishers. These items soon covered the corpse before the casket was closed and lowered into the ground to the beat of Mariachi’s guitar, playing soft, rhythmic music while hiding the musician’s teary eyes behind the brim of his hat.

You sure paid it forward, mom, Charlie said to Becky as they chatted next to the refreshment table. He was sipping a cup of coffee with a jelly donut in the other hand. You stopped me from making the biggest mistake of my life. Gave me the chance to live without the weight of all that guilt. Not sure how much of this ‘big mistake’ Charlie’s wife knew about and not wanting to talk about anything too dark and personal at someone else’s funeral, Becky sat down next to Tuklexa and immediately changed the subject.

If you two are going to be around for a while, I was hoping we could all grab lunch, she invited her daughter-in-law as Charlie sat down too.

That sounds great, Mom, Charlie agreed, after Tuklexa seemed enthusiastic. Yeah, we don’t have to be back on Phase Earth for a couple days.

We actually got a bed and breakfast over on Sprinkledrip Boulevard, Tuklexa added.

Just then, a handsome man with salt and pepper hair sauntered behind Becky and took her hand, gently kissing it. This was Becky’s husband, comic book artist turned Hollywood producer Joey Mackenzie. He was much less shy than Charlie remembered him, the result of working in a business where charisma, genuine or otherwise, is essential to getting projects made.

Charlie! Mrs. Charlie, Joey greeted the couple, his hair slicked back as he smiled big, showing off his professionally whitened teeth. Great to see you. Say, Charlie, are you still on Dookimon?

Um, no, Mr. Mackenzie, Charlie replied. He hadn’t thought about his days performing on the Uranian mutant cage fighting show in years. I’m on Phase Earth with my dad. I’ve been out of show business for a while.

Well, ever since the landing, there are a lot more opportunities in Hollywood for people who look like you, Joey remarked. Aliens are doing a lot of producing these days. And if you’re ever interested in stunt work…

Honey, Becky interrupted as politely as she could, her voice in an undertone. You’re not in a pitch meeting.

I’m sorry, Joey apologized sincerely, his tone changing completely. I’m so sorry. I’m at home with people I care about. I need to leave my work at the office, three states away. Joey’s warm smile made Charlie and even Tuklexa feel at ease.

And this feeling continued when the two couples were having lunch at the ‘Freak Show Café’. Originally built when Nail Gun Neil’s circus was in its heyday, it was designed to capitalize on the success of that eye-opening tourist attraction. The pictures on the wall were a mix of photographs from Nail Gun Neil’s circus and Universal monster movies from the 30’s.

The circus has seen better days, Becky told Charlie, flicking onions off her burger, adamant there were too many of them.

I noticed, Charlie assured her, looking up at the photos on the wall, each a time capsule glimpse of Neil’s circus over the years. Some of the photos were from before his time. Others took his mind down memory lane in a tornado of emotion and memories.

Ever since the landing, ever since extraterrestrials became commonplace sights on our streets and in media, Becky continued. The transmundane community has been able to move about with a measure of freedom and acceptance.

In general, Joey interjected, rolling his eyes.

Sure, you have a few bigots. But the real downside is what it did to places like Neil’s circus. He created that place for the unique to shine, for them to say ‘look at us! We’re here! We’re weird! Deal with it.’ But now that politicians are trying to pass anti-discrimination laws to further integrate aliens and the transmundane alike, places like that come across as exploitive.

I can understand why, Charlie replied, remembering his days performing as a limber, double-jointed, adolescent ‘Bug-Boy’ (as he was billed then). The beaming faces of fascination and joy in the audience were often marred by a hateful heckler. Seeing burlier members of his circus family bouncing bullies out of his performance tent was what inspired Charlie to learn martial arts from his mom, so he could defend himself. When freaking people out is the only way you can get money to eat, you’re not exactly being included in society.

Because there are no opportunities, Becky replied. And a lot of Neil’s kids were victims of that. They lost the circus without any real plan to move forward anywhere else. They were basically educated. They had home school diplomas and all that, but Neil’s death just created a vacuum in an already-shrinking town.

A few of them got jobs at that sanitation company, right, honey? Joey chimed in.

They did, Becky replied.

Charlie remembered the sanitation company. He would see their fiery toilet-on-wheels logo whenever Neil would drive him into the nearby town for errands. Skidmarks? Charlie recalled the name.

Yup. Skidmarks hired a few of your old circus chums to deliver outhouses to construction sites. Like the one for the waterpark they’re building near Whizz Lake, Becky explained. They’ve been very helpful, but they can only do so much. Their flaming toilet logo has become a metaphor for the economy out here.

As Becky spoke, Charlie caught sight of someone outside, in the town square. It was his lobster-clawed childhood best friend Jonathan ‘Krusty’ Reese. Charlie saw Krusty at the funeral and was disappointed that he left before they could talk. Charlie leapt to his feet, shouting Krusty! before running out of the coffee shop. Bursting through the screen door, Charlie bolted into the town square, waving his arms, and shouting until he got Krusty’s attention. Somewhere between giving his old friend a hug and inviting him to join his family in the diner, Charlie’s heart sank.

He saw the marquee on the building Krusty had just walked out of. This marquee had some powerful artwork, and the same images were on the paper bag Krusty was holding. It depicted humans and different types of aliens accepting food from angels flying overhead. Each angel had a bold letter on their robes and the letters spelled out ‘Hope’. The ‘Mission of Hope’ was a soup kitchen, at outreach program for the hungry and poor.

A far more expansive outreach program by scientists from Phase Earth had resulted in an alien wonder fruit, one with many times the nutritional value of anything on Earth, to be available at this and many other soup kitchens worldwide. Hunger had been all but eradicated on Earth years ago, even if alien ambassadors had to fend off a smaller country’s army just to feed its impoverished citizens. And Krusty’s bag was filled with this gift from the stars, along with some donated canned goods.

But the effect of Krusty no longer having a circus to perform in went way beyond not having enough food. He wanted to work, a way to contribute to society in a meaningful way that made him feel needed and useful. Handouts did not accomplish this. Charlie remembered how eager Krusty was to assist with the raising and lowering of tents during his time at the circus. Between knowing Krusty’s stellar work ethic personally and seeing the look on his long face now, Charlie could see the toll Neil’s death had taken on this grown lobster boy’s self-esteem.

He needs a purpose, Charlie realized. He needs someone to give him a chance.

Being included in his extended family’s get-together was certainly helpful to Krusty’s emotional state. Joey seemed to enjoy the tales of mischief these two friends would get into when they were younger. Hearing about Krusty snipping circus tent cords with his claws, to make them collapse around frightened girls, made Joey wonder how sharp those things actually were.

Ideas for movies starring an actor with lobster claws started swirling around the head of this creative powerhouse as Krusty told a sad story about how he ended up living in the janitor’s closet of a halfway house. The rooms are for criminals and drug addicts, Krusty explained humbly, trying to put a positive spin on his situation. Which is cool. They need more help than I do.

Joey was unable to decide whether Krusty should be an action hero or a horror villain. He’s handsome, Joey thought. He could play a romantic lead if he’s a decent actor. But he did offer Krusty a job. Joey had neighbors in Beverly Hills who needed gardeners, allowing Krusty to quite literally work with his clipper-like hands.

Joey didn’t tell Krusty his movie ideas just yet, not wanting Krusty to get his hopes up for fame and stardom in such a fickle industry. I should at least run this by him, Joey thought. Would he see being in movies about a guy with lobster claws as exploitive or would he see it as transmundane representation? Would the size of the paycheck make a difference? I mean, he is a performer, as long as he has creative control…and the paycheck’s better than the circus.

Contrary to his wife’s prior warnings, Joey immediately went into Hollywood pitch mode, gesturing as enthusiastically as he spoke. But because he started his pitch by telling Krusty about the neighbor who needed a gardener, Becky knew Joey was genuinely trying to help her son’s old friend and didn’t mind the showmanship. He was doing