Aliens on a Holiday E-Book

Friedrich S. Plechinger

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 531

Beschreibung

When aliens go on a journey, you never know how it will end. This story is no exception. There are still seats available on the spaceship. Climb aboard and enjoy the adventure.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents:

1) Foreword

2) A day in Lontzen

3) The family from another planet

4) Men in Black

5) Aliens on vacation

6) Patosh on the road

7) The aliens are coming

8) Patosh and Mary

9) Aliens know no stress

10) Patosh and the Pyrenees

11) Aliens in search of clues

12) Santiago de Campostella

13) We have lost them

14) The High Council is not pleased

15) Mr. Gonzales has disappeared

16) Hard times for Patosh

17) UFO Delusion

18) The trail

19) And the world stood still

20) Back to Lontzen

21) The universe is seething

22) Escape

23) Vacation lockdown

24) A Land Rover drives through night and fog

25) Day zero has arrived

26) Between heaven and earth

27) Nothing is as it seems

28) Earth is not a vacation spot

29) The Red Door

30) Back to Connington on the Shyre

31) Hell is empty and all the devils are here

32) Star war is possible

33) The Arrival

34) Invisible War

35) Abyss

36) New Earth

Foreword

After a short break, it was time for me to write again, or thanks to the lap top, to type, because restless as I am, my life would otherwise be boring. Naturally, the question arose as to what I should put on paper this time and yes, the Middle Ages, the time period in the sixties and seventies, as well as the present, I had already used for my novels and my biography. That left a journey into the future mixed with the present. The idea was born during my stay in Luxembourg, where I occasionally stay in a hotel and use my free time to write. A good Luxembourgish friend, named Patrick Gafron, who is called "Patosh" for short and is also one of my readers, motivated me to write something new during one of the various pub visits and yes, since we often talked about UFOs, moon landings and moon landings that didn't happen, I decided to write a science fiction thriller and since Patrick is a good listener, I call the main character in this thriller Patosh. I deliberately left out the "c" in Patosh because I also want this book to be published in English and the "c" in Patosh doesn't fit in. The question now is to whom I will dedicate this book. First and foremost, my loyal readers, as well as Patrick Gafron (Patosh) and all new readers who will enjoy this journey.

Everything told in this thriller is NOT true and all the characters in it are fictional. In this case also Patosh, who has nothing to do with my real buddy Patosh from Luxembourg. One last thing for all Duden fanatics. I still like to use the "Scharfe S" (ß). Telepathy or the word "telepathic" is also used repeatedly. This is intentional. So please don`t get annoyed.

Have fun reading.

Yours

Friedrich S. Plechinger

A day in Lontzen.

Loud thunder, caused by two low-flying fighter jets, made the dogs in a small village, close to the German-Belgian border, bark and the citizens of this village called Lontzen rushed out of their houses to see what was going on. The dogs looked up at the sky and more Belgian Air Force fighter jets shot past the roofs of the houses like arrows. Tens of fingers pointed upwards as they all saw it. Elliptical lights moved in a zigzag pattern from left to right and then from top to bottom at an unprecedented speed. Some watched in fascination, but others showed panic on their faces and when the lights suddenly disappeared, the usual dead silence returned. But not for long. They, who all saw it, met at Patosch's (short for Patrick in French), who ran a pub in this otherwise very quiet village and his establishment was about to burst as more and more forced their way through the narrow pub door. All the tables were taken within minutes and those who weren't lucky enough to get a chair were scattered around the room. Noise and cigarette smoke filled the room, as Patosch thought nothing of the smoking bans that were otherwise imposed on the world. In his opinion, everyone was free to choose the way they wanted to die, whether by nicotine, alcohol, colesterol or a constantly nagging wife who made one's life, at least for him, a living hell. Patosch stood at the tap and the beer flowed in the mugs like never before.

"Five more Stella and four Orval Patosch!" shouted Georgette, a waitress who had moved here from the western zone of Belgium.

"Coming right up!" beamed an overjoyed innkeeper, as the rouble was rolling like never before on that particular day.

"What do you say to the lights from earlier Patosch?" asked one of the many farmers in the village, who was standing right next to the bar and looking into the crowd.

"What do you want to hear Gerome? Those lights can show up every day for all I care, if it brings me such a profit..."

"Yes, but what were those lights? I've never seen anything like it in all the years I've spent in the fields, plowing the land with the tractor..."

"The end of the world is near!" suddenly shouted a fatter woman from the corner

"Oh shut up Francine!" shouted another, laughing.

"More beer..." shouted an elderly citizen of the village, holding up his right hand to make himself heard and the noise continued into the deep hours of the night until Patosch had had enough and moved the last guest out of the pub called " À la cruche dòr " (To the golden jug) shortly before midnight.

"Just one more Patosch..."

"No, no Thibault, off home now. Tomorrow is another day." And with a gentle shove, the innkeeper pushed the stubborn guest through the door and locked it immediately. A shock ran through him when he turned around and saw the mess. Full ashtrays, empty and half-full glasses and jugs on the tables. Some standing, others tipped over. Plates with gnawed chicken bones and other leftovers. But even more unpleasant was the crunching sound under his shoes and when he looked at the floor, he noticed shards of glass from broken glasses, caused by the excessive alcohol consumption of some of the guests and its consequences.

"Holy shit." Patosch whispered, cursing.

"Not today. I'll clean up tomorrow." He said to himself, yawning, and disappeared into the bedchamber on the second floor of the house. Dead tired, he put on his pyjamas, went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, and as he looked at himself in the mirror, he wondered what the lights that everyone in the village saw were all about. They were elliptical and constantly changed position. Sometimes they hovered horizontally, but then the light turned vertical and shot back and forth like one of those rubber balls you had as a child. He drank water from the tap, gargled briefly and spit the foam into the basin and when he couldn't find a towel, he simply brushed his right sleeve over his mouth.

She lay there snoring, the wife called Camille. Once the beauty of the village and the daughter of the local gendarme, and now a nightmare of a walrus who only scolded and nagged constantly. "Patosh do this, Patosh do that..." as if he didn't have enough to do with all the shopping and preparations. She just vegetated, too sluggish to contribute productively to the household or the pub.

"Oh you lights, whatever you've been. Come back and take me with you." he thought to himself quietly.

Meanwhile, two hundred and thirteen million kilometers from Earth, another scenario was playing out. On Venus, to be precise. Everything harmonized with divine precision and the inhabitants there, we would call them aliens or extraterrestrials, spent their "existence" carefree and emotionless simply because they were thousands of years ahead of the earthlings, i.e. us. They differed in appearance and could not exactly be described as beautiful, but they would think the same if they saw us for the first time, which they did several million years ago. Their language is telepathy, their food is from another world and their philosophy is unconditional charity and tireless service to others. They were, evolutionarily, in a different density and were thousands of years ahead of the earthlings. No wars, no religion, no governments, no taxes and no mendacious media could poison their lives. There was no boss, no president, no king or emperor. There was a council that consulted constantly, but always under the telepathic eyes of the venusian population, and the transfer of datas of any correspondence thus determined was transmitted in this way. They also had no names. They just looked at each other and the exchange of thoughts and communication began. Why did they need a name when everyone was equal? Their reproduction was also telepathic. If they thought they were compatible, the mating was carried out in this way and after just one week, they received a cosmic, extraterrestrial bundle of joy. But what the Venusians (that's what we call these beings from Venus for simplicity's sake) love most of all is traveling. All they have to do is make a telepathic request and, if approved, they are allowed to choose a spaceship of their choice. Borrowed, of course. Just like the usual car rental service but without payment, because money or other foreign currency did not exist on Venus. And so our story begins.

The family from another planet

On Venus there are no buildings or houses as we are used to, but telepathically furnished and imaginary living spaces, if you want to describe it that way. No walls that can be touched or felt. You experience everything there in your mind and in your consciousness, but you can arrange it the way you want it without restricting your connection to family members. The father may be in one of his imaginary homes at the same time as he is talking to his son, who is in a completely different imaginary environment to the father, but they are still close to each other. You have to imagine it like this. The father, who is a lover of books and old artifacts, has imagined in his mind a private mixture of a library and a small museum and at this moment he lives in such a room, while the son at the same moment imagines an ice cream parlor, which does not exist on Venus. Nevertheless, the conversation between father and son takes place telepathically. In the same way, the mother can imagine her living space according to her taste etc. etc. This is just an example.

On one of these Venusian days (the Venusians do not use a unit of time or a calendar because, as I said, they are thousands of years ahead of us), the father of a Venusian family of three decided to go on a cosmic vacation and discussed it with the compatible unit, we would call her wife, and the resulting offspring, in this case the son.

"Where should we go this time, my dears? Last time we weren't very happy with Orakium (Pluto) and Mastonius (Mercury)." Said the Venusian father.

"Yes, my compatible and the food was downright unpalatable on both planets. I had terrible gas from all the mangaria salad. (A vegetable not worth going into further)."

"True, but I made a lot of friends there. I really enjoyed it and the mangaria salad was delicious. I could never have eaten enough of it." Said the son.

"Oh my little offshoot. You still have a lot to learn, but yes, it's nice that you've made friends on both palnetes. This is essential for your cosmic development. Still, the Mangaria salad was disappointing this time and too much of it was quite unhealthy. So? Where should we go next?" asked the father, let's call him Jonathan for simplicity's sake.

"Oh, oh, how about one of the many moons of Corantio (Saturn)? The moon called Sorio has a great adventure park and my friends will be there too. A telepathic call is all it takes. Please dad, please mom!"

Here, too, the earthly title for the parents was chosen so as not to confuse the reader too much, because who can do anything with the cosmic titles? That would drive us "telepathically" mad, make this book unreadable and annoy my readership. That's why we call the Venusian boy Fred and the cosmic mom Martha in this story. We've already called the father Jonathan.

"Corantio, hmm? Good idea Fred, what do you think Martha? It would be something new and our boy is already driving me telepathically crazy with his sad eyes."

"Corantio. Yes, why not. My sister Sybilla (compatible with Martha) has already been there and told me about a very relaxing spa facility. I could do with a telepathic massage. And you, my husband (telepathically compatible chosen one) could improve your Sorana (cosmic golf) skills there."

"Indeed, I could Martha." Jonathan smiled telepathically, because the facial features of these aliens didn't move an inch and they would win at any poker game imaginable on our planet called Earth, as they had an unfathomable poker face.

"However, I would suggest making several stops." Father Jonathan said cheerfully.

"Exosauro, for example, has an infinite archive of knowledge and a large educational database. If not the largest. Our little treasure could stuff himself with all that data and learn more about the history of the universe..."

"Oh no, how boring...."

"Fred! Listen to your father. You should have fun on Corantio, but education is a basic requirement, my cosmic angel," Martha persuaded her defiant son.

"It's definitely fun too. An educational trip with games and excitement. I'm all for it." Jonathan agreed.

"And what else? Which other planets should we visit?" asked Fred, bored, because no child goes to school voluntarily. Even less so during a vacation trip.

"Sybilla told me about a planet called Earth. At least that's what the aliens who live on it call it. We know it as 'Terrarion'.

It was supposed to be pretty wild and she had a lot of fun. Her spaceship was chased and hunted by what they had down there, also known as fighter jets, and Sybilla always won that game..."

"MARTHA?" Jonathan suddenly admonished sternly. „Think of the boy. He deserves to know the truth about Terrarion. What goes on down there is not a game and the inhabitants are stubborn and backward. They have hardly evolved. Fighter jets. Don't make me laugh. They're stuck in their ways."

"Oh yes, oh yes. That sounds like fun!" rejoiced Fred, who only saw the game in it.

"Can I also pilot the spaceship on Terrarion and play tag with the Earthlings?"

Jonathan made clacking noises in response, which meant NO.

"No Fred. Terrarion is a dangerous place and yet it's the most beautiful planet in the whole universe. The inhabitants of this planet have emotions, are fearful, uncommunicative and unwilling to open up spiritually in order to enable better coexistence and cooperation with other species. All they want is power and our knowledge to enrich themselves and in the process their planet is becoming more and more endangered. It was different thousands of years ago, because back then the humans, as the race on Terrarion calls itself, were more attentive, open and willing to learn from us. Also grateful for the knowledge we gave them. We helped them to found a civilization that focused on love and cohesion. We helped build monuments that also facilitated our presence there. But there was one thing we hadn't considered and we are still feeling the effects of this mistake today."

Martha knew what Jonathan was talking about, but little Fred had not stored this knowledge in his telephatic database.

"What mistake Dad?"

"A bug that is unique in the entire universe my boy and only occurs on this planet. It is known as greed, power, money, envy, jealousy, resentment, fear and the worst of all is called hate. In a word, "evil". Our ancestors had completely disregarded these characteristics, partly out of naivety, because as I said, we too had to evolve. The people there have a chronology that we do not use and so, for the sake of simplicity, we will use their unit here for this example. This started millions of their years ago, but the heyday of our work on Terrarion was 8000 Earth years ago. They, the humans, were very primitive, but as helpless as they were, they were innocent and loving as well."

"Innocent? What does that mean, Dad?" Fred asked curiously.

"Well. I can't explain it like that son and that's why a trip to Exosauro, before Terrarion, would be highly recommended, because there you can telepathically receive, process and understand all the data. Another dangerous quality they have is called emotion. I could apply all of this to you in a nutshell, but to really understand it, you have to experience it for yourself."

Fred made a clacking sound that we on Earth would understand as an affirmative nod of the head.

"So should we plan it like this? Corantio first, then Exosauro and finally Terrarion? Suggestions are welcome." Jonathan asked the group.

"Let's start with the most distant planets first. Exosauro. Fred can pump himself full of knowledge there. Then Corantio for a well-deserved rest and finally Terrarion to save the best for last."

Martha's suggestion made sense and they agreed, and Jonathan immediately took care of reserving a spaceship. Telepathically, of course.

"Hello? Yes, this is Jonathan. I wanted to inquire regarding a reservation for a spaceship..." .

"Yes... for three people. Destination Exosauro, Corantio and Terrarion....what? Do I have a special permit for Terrarion? No, why?...Aha...Aha...Aha. Okay! Can I apply for it through you? Well, that's fantastic! Which model? What do you suggest? The Orion Deluxe?...no, I already had that. It always runs out of breath quickly.

Galaxia Supreme? What can it do?

Aha...Aha...Aha...we'll take that one. When should we start? Yes, as far as we're concerned, right away!

Fantastic. So you're bringing the spaceship over? Excellent."

Men in Black

Back on Earth, things were not so relaxed, because Patosch had a strange visitor. He wasn't the only one in Lontzen, because there were many who saw the spaceship or spaceships that day, were bothered. Men in black suits and dark sunglasses, reminiscent of a sixties cliché, appeared like ghosts.

"What am I supposed to do?" Patosh shouted at one of these strange men.

"I'm supposed to deny what I've seen and never speak of it again? Can you actually still be saved? The whole village has seen it and probably the surrounding villages too. We're not in Hollywood you morons and while we're at it, what's that accent you're using? It's neither English nor American. If I didn't know better, I'd bet my head on a Slavic one."

"No, we're not Slavs and where we come from doesn't matter here. You forget everything and don't give any interviews, otherwise you can close the place down...."

One of the two said cheekily.

„You know what you assholes? Get out of here before I get my shotgun and blow several holes in your airless skulls. This is Europe and things run differently over here. You can't seal the mouths of hundreds of citizens.

I've seen the spaceship and that's that.

Now piss off before I forget myself!" shouted Patosch, beside himself.

"That wasn't the last word Mr. .....what's your name?"

"Napoleon and now get out of here."

Annoyed but not responding to the outburst of anger, the two men left the "Golden Jug" and Patosh followed them to the door. But as he looked after them, he noticed that they were not the only men in dark suits. There were more of the same kind walking around outside. There must be around fifty of them. Shaking his head, he locked the door and muttered curses under his breath. He had to open the inn in an hour. It was not easy for him to get his mind back under control after this incident, because he had to listen to the threat over and over again in his mind: ,,...otherwise you can close the place down...How dare these foreigners and non-belgians make such threats here in his country? Weren't the Nazis the best example of what that feels like? The new world powers did nothing different here. Invading, stealing oil and minerals and imposing their false democracy."

Patosch continued to curse to himself, not realizing how quickly the hour passed.

All the tables were clean and only the floor needed a wipe and as he followed his train of thought and mopped, his wife, Camille, slipped past him.

"I'm going to the hairdresser. It may take a while," she said. But Patosch didn't react, because he hadn't had anything to say to her for a long time. This marriage only existed for economic reasons, because he no longer had the strength to lose his house and farm through divorce at the age of fifty. Starting over after all these years was not an option for him. It was better to close his eyes and be done with it than to find himself on the street again, because the divorce law in Belgium was not very manfriendly. The first guests entered the pub and the room filled with noise and cigarette smoke within minutes and Patosch visibly felt the tension and anger caused by the appearance of these unfriendly gentlemen in dark suits that day.

"They told me to keep my mouth shut or they'd block my son's scholarship. Can you believe that? What do these idiots think they're doing?" Gerome complained, holding a glass of pastis in his right shaking hand.

"They threatened to revoke my cab license. I think we've had enough of this bullshit. Our own government hates us because they allow such measures by third parties.

The Germans could have stayed right here. At least they were Europeans."

"They still are, you idiot!" said Gerome.

"I'm just saying. What's the difference?"

"Don't take it all so seriously. It's all just empty threats."

Patosch tried to calm the men down, but this seemed to be no easy task. The ladies of the village were also talking loudly and complaining amongst themselves, but the beer and wine continued to flow in streams, just like on the day the UFOs were sighted. However, the UFO sightings brought with them another problem. The sensation.

Now UFO fanatics and so-called experts flocked to Lotzen as if on a pilgrimage, and they too found Patosch's pub, behaving far too loudly for the taste of the actual citizens of Lontzen. Economically, it was a blessing for Patosch, because now he could rent out rooms on his farm, which stood three kilometers away and empty. He had no animals or tractors there. It was passed on to him after the death of his aunt and now this opportunity presented itself to rent rooms to these UFO pilgrims and the prices would be "salty". Without wanting to, Patosch became almost wealthy overnight and, clever as he was, he knew how to book the income so that his wife didn't notice. He transferred most of this income discreetly and securely to a private account in Brussels. If she asked any questions, it was because of the necessary expenses that nothing remained in the actual joint account at the end. Why share the income with someone who no longer loved and respected you and was just lying on the lazy side?

She disappeared without a word to Patosch when she came back from her visit to the hairdresser. It didn't hurt him anymore, despite the fact that they were once happy and in love together and she was beautiful and willowy.

But then she got pregnant and the baby died in childbirth.

The world ended for both of them.

But she suffered the most and she has not been able to come to terms with it to this day. She also blamed him, Patosch, because he was a drunkard and he had filled her with his sick drunkard genes. Patosch hasn't drunk since then, because there's one thing women do best.

Burdening men with guilt until there are only two options left. You either accept these feelings of guilt or you break away from them and thus also from your wife. Divorce is only one consequence that Patosch did not take for the reasons mentioned above, and if anyone thought this marriage could still be saved, they were very much mistaken. Love turned to hate and that was the end of it.

Nevertheless, the UFO pilgrims became a nuisance for everyone after a while, as they left behind garbage and blocked parking spaces. The village, which had only eight hundred inhabitants, was now bursting at the seams with just under three thousand. The village police couldn't cope with the problems this caused, and it was also becoming too much for Patosch, who used to be able to close the pub at midnight, but now this privilege was delayed by two hours. He was exhausted and, despite the profits generated, he cursed the UFO fantasists. Then the constant harassment from the military and police and by then the UFO issue had been forgotten by the villagers had they not been confronted with this nuisance over and over again. The rescue finally came in the form of an order issued from the highest level, directly from the Brussels Presidency, to all the police and military services. This matter had to be taken off the table once and for all and an end had to be put to it.

The media received an unconditional ban on reporting on the case and the "UFO-Experts" were more or less kindly expelled from the village. Peace returned to Patosch and its inhabitants and the old habit was restored, like a long-awaited liberation. They never spoke of it again. What Patosch needed now was a vacation. He didn't want to fly because he was afraid of flying and traveling by train was also out of the question because he hated crowds, both on the train and at the station. So the only option was a car vacation. But where to go? A round trip around the south of France, Portugal and Spain wouldn't be bad, he thought. You could stop along the way, visit restaurants and sleep wherever you wanted. His old Peugeot wouldn't survive such a trip, so he picked up the phone book and searched and searched until he found what he wanted. He picked up the phone, dialed the number and when a human voice answered, he was pleasantly surprised, because he didn't want to talk to a machine.

"If you prefer English, press two, if you want to book a short vacation, press three...etc, etc."

"Montfort, how can I help you?" came the voice on the other side.

"Bonjour. My name is Patrick Van de Brog. I would like to rent a motorhome."

"That would be no problem Mr. Van de Brog. Do you have something specific in mind?"

"Something small. For two weeks. Maybe a Mercedes Sprint, for example..."

"We would have something like that. But not a Mercedes.

A Montana, would that be OK?"

"Hmm... I've had one of those before. Wasn't very happy with it. Would you have something else?" Patosch asked.

"A Citroen with a Hymer bed. Space for two, fridge, sink, two cupboards and a mini shower..."

"That's all right. How much would it cost?"

"You said two weeks? May I ask where you're going?"

"Why?"

"So that I can calculate an approximate total mileage.

The first 1500 kilometers would be free, every additional kilometer costs forty cents."

Patosch thought about it and gave the agent the information he needed. In the end, three thousand kilometers were calculated as total distance.

"That would give us a total of 1996 euros, including insurance, Mr. Van de Borg."

"That's all right. Send me everything by email and I'll make a firm booking." Patosch ended the conversation with satisfaction.

No ten horses would hold him back, because what he needed was distance and time with himself.

Time to think about everything he had done wrong, everything he had missed out on, why he wasn't spending his time with someone who really loved him and who was happy to be there and didn't make him feel guilty like Camille did. He realized one thing at that moment.

He couldn't go on like this. He deserved better and if God didn't help him, then maybe someone from another world who had more power than God. But first he wanted to book the trip and simply disappear.

Aliens on vacation

The compatible family (let's call them that) went to the spaceship rental company and pulled small suitcases on wheels behind them that looked very similar to the earthly suitcases. The strange thing was that the Compatibles were walking around naked as God (or whoever) created them and you wondered what they were carrying in their suitcases. The spaceship renter greeted them and showed Jonathan what the Galaxia Supreme vehicle was all about.

" Here is the gravity compensator. Please only use it on Terrarion and just before landing. The magnetic field converter impresses with its simplicity and redundancy.

Sixteen of them are installed. But we are particularly proud of the flex transformer."

"Oh. And what can it do?" Jonathan asked curiously.

"It makes the spaceship invisible if it is noticed and pursued by frightened terrariens. An unpleasant matter if this happens, as this species is one of the most underdeveloped in the universe and everything that appears alien is categorized as hostile at the same time.

It's best to leave the switch on "AUTOMATIC"."

"Is it the way they say it is?" Martha asked the landlord.

"What are they saying, ma'am?"

"Well, that it could be dangerous on Terrarion."

"Let's put it this way. It's by no means boring and if you find residents who are in favor of the new, then it's the best trip and the best vacation you've ever taken. I can say that from experience. And it's good that we're talking about this, because I'm going to give you a folder that you should inprolate before the trip (study telepathically in Venusian). This does not apply to Corantio and Exosauro..."

"That goes without saying." Jonathan said dryly, because he wanted to speed up the briefing on the ship and not prolong it unnecessarily. Martha was surprised by this behavior, because she didn't know Jonathan like this.

"Can this ship also automatically activate the rescue unit in an emergency so that we don't get stranded and forgotten somewhere?"

"Each of our spaceships has a homer. If it is not triggered automatically, it can also be activated manually. It's right here, under the control panel."

"How fast is it? That's the last question and then we want to get going."

"9 scal!"

"That's very impressive. Thank you for the briefing. Let's get going." Jonathan urged and Martha was taken aback, because he seemed totally alien to her at that moment. A behavior that was not at all noticeable on Venus and yet seemed worrying. The agent left the ship and said goodbye with the usual clacking sound. The entrance to the spaceship closed and the Galxia Supreme and its ET contents disappeared silently and in a flash.

"Corantio, here we come!" clacked little Fred and Martha rejoiced with him, emotionless yet galactically moved.

Jonathan sat at the "wheel" and pressed buttons with his long, slender and bony fingers, probably on the cosmic navigation system and when everything was set, he relaxed too. Corantio was only 13 human light years away and with "9 Scal" the journey will seem short. As said before, aliens have no time calculation and therefore no sense of time, but the scal measurement is necessary to hit the spectrum portal correctly to get to a different dimension faster.

"I'm hungry!" said little Fred.

"What, already?" called Martha motherly.

"I'll unpack the Mangaria salad..."

"Don't we have anything else? No Milky Way bars?"

The reader should know that although the cosmic Milky Way bars have the same name as the earthly ones, they have nothing to do with each other and that the similarity of the names is purely coincidental.

"No Fred. Too much of it is unhealthy and you overindulge yourself every time with this unhealthy stuff.

I wonder how the kids on Terrarion eat. Probably more sensible."

A mistake that Mama Martha would soon learn. There were hotels on Corantio just as there were on Earth, but they were different in their structure and because the rooms of these establishments were separated by stone walls on Earth, this was not the case on Corantio. The room had opaque walls and you could see the cosmos as if you were outside in space and yet privacy was maintained because guests could not see each other, not even telepathically, except for family members who traveled and belonged together. Little Fred had a blast and Jonathan played Sorana every chance he got. This extraterrestrial golf game had the feature of having to put a ball in a hole, just like on Earth, only the ball had to hit a hole on one of the many surrounding, uninhabited moons for which the game was designed. The ball had a kind of GPS, so you could see exactly where it was. If it hit one of the holes, you were sent a congratulatory note and a Mangaria salad coupon for one of the restaurants on Corantio. Jonathan played so well in those days that he already had quite a few coupons and the Mangaria salad was hanging out of his ears. The same happened to little Fred, who made new friends and played everything imaginable with them. They also thought the Mangaria salad was a puke and would rather eat the lava dust of the of the surrounding hills than stuff another purple leaf of this vegetable into themselves. When everyone had had enough of Corantio, Exosauro was set as the next target.

Three spectrum portals had to be penetrated for this, as this planet was several light years away (by Earth measurement) from Venus and Corantio. It now came to one` s attention, why this cosmic family was carrying suitcases. Like the Earthlings, the Venusians loved souvenirs, so it was understandable that they needed a container to store and carry them.

"I think we'd have to get two extra suitcases on Exosauro, otherwise we won't have room for the souvenirs from Terrarion." Martha said.

"Don't worry. There's nothing worth taking with us on Exosauro apart from knowledge." Fred protested.

"But you're getting smarter, son." Said Jonathan.

"What's the point? I'm already clever..."

"You can never acquire enough knowledge Fred and you don't have the knowledge that will take you to the next level in your development. You're still a long way off." Martha said firmly.

Fred was not convinced and made a not quite intelligible clacking sound.

"There. We're reaching the First Portal. What a traffic jam..." clacked Jonathan.

"Seems like everyone's taking a vacation. And look where they're coming from. Isn't that the spaceship of our neighboring compatibles?" Martha asked, delighted.

"Indeed, Hubert, Sonia and little Tamara. Who knows where they'll end up." Jonathan said.

Again, the names are made up to avoid using far more complicated names such as: X//&((((.

"I'm not hoping for Exosauro. Would only continue to spoil my vacation if that smartass Tamara..."

"FRED!!! What's got into you boy? We don't use such thoughts on Venus and yes, take an example from Tamara. She's been on Exosauro four times and has acquired a lot of knowledge. How I would love to have her as my future daughter-in-law." Martha exclaimed, but Jonathan also mentally allied himself with his son when Martha said this.

"What? You don't agree with me my husband?"

"Why did you get into my thoughts? You don't do that." Protested Jonathan.

"Sorry, you're right." Martha apologized.

"We have to let the boy have his free will, dearest. This is and remains Venusuain law and I don't know if Tamara will be compatible. Fred should be allowed to find out for himself."

"You're right Jonathan. Something is disturbing my senses. Ever since the spaceship rental. We've all been behaving strangely since then."

Jonathan also had to realize this. The mental balance, should aliens have such a soul, was unbalanced and this could be seen in the quality of the conversation. More rabid and sometimes more irrational than usual on Venus.

"Hand me the vibescanner son. Let's see what it shows, because I've noticed this change too." Jonathan said, not quite sure if the scanner was any good. Fred handed him the vibescanner and Jonathan scanned the entire interior of the spaceship. When he was finished, he had the results analyzed and sure enough, the scanner showed something irregular. Jonathan tried to get hold of the results, but the scanner reported "access denied". This made Jonathan suspicious, as there were no secrets on Venus. So what was that all about? He couldn't make any sense of it and let the matter rest.

"What does the scanner say?" Martha asked.

"Nothing."

Martha left it at that and the journey continued as the first portal was crossed. The next, or second, portal was now the destination and Jonathan stepped on the gas. Scal 9 showed up on the cosmic speedometer and the Galaxia Supreme delivered what it promised. Jonathan even overtook his neighbors' ship and Fred couldn't contain a barely visible alien grin.

"Bye bye Tamara." He thought to himself quietly and Martha turned to face him. Fred didn't like it at all and kept quiet during the whole flight.

Martha felt guilty, but in the end she was just a woman and very concerned about the welfare of the cosmic family. She knew that she had no right to interfere telepathically in the family's thoughts. She fetched a Milky Way bar from somewhere and handed it to little Fred. He thanked her and everything was forgotten. Soon the second Spectrum portal was crossed and the third was not far away. Shortly before the third portal, Jonathan reduced the scale number to 5 and finally the planet Exosauro was reached. The family got out of the spaceship and Papa-Alien stretched because his bones were aching. Yes, extraterrestrials also have the same maladies as earthlings, only these come much later, as ageing is delayed by centuries according to the human calendar. Fred helped unload the suitcases and Martha negotiated the registration with the hotel receptionist.

The rooms here differed from those on Corantio. Here, the walls were solid and the facility was reminiscent of one of the many motels that have proliferated in the United States, only more well-kept.

"I'm going to lie down. I'm exhausted." Jonathan said, but Martha wanted to check out the facility and perhaps indulge in a spa. Fred just wanted to look for new friends and get up to the usual nonsense with them, like on Corantio. He was very disappointed when he didn't find any children and Martha delivered him to one of the study places so that she could undergo massages and the steaming benefits of the geysers in peace. Fred was horrified. Hundreds of children were sitting in front of screens, inprolating (studying).

"Ah. You must be Fred." An exosaur called out in a friendly manner and directed the little alien to his screen.

All the other children paid no attention to him because they were telepathically paralyzed while studying.

"This is your place, my boy."

"What do I have to do?"

"Just look into the circle and shout 'I am Fred'. That's all." Smiled the usher whose smile showed in contrast to the Venusian.

Fred did as instructed and a microsecond later was also paralyzed telepathically. Like a movie, data, images, videos, cosmic hyroglyphs and much more streamed through his little head, as if he had several memory sticks that could hold trillions of gigabites. Nevertheless, he was fully aware of his senses and could finally converse, again telepathically, with the others while all this knowledge was being transmitted. The only thing he couldn't do was move, and that was set up by the system so that none of these galactic kids could fuck off and go on adventures, which in itself was part of education.

"What's your name?"

"Fred, and you?"

"Rudolf. Have you just arrived?"

"Yes. What else can you do here but sit and get stuff introduced?"

"Nothing. But it's relaxing. You'll see."

"Hey. Hello everyone. I'm Karin. I've just been logged in too. It's cool, isn't it?"

"Hello Karin. I still need a little time to settle in." shouted Fred.

"At least they don't know any Mangaria salad here on Exosauro!" exclaimed Rudolf happily.

"You're wrong!" suddenly came from a corner.

"Who's that?" asked Karin and Rudolf almost simultaneously.

"My name is Tamara. I've been here four times and the Mangaria salad is flown in here. So no chance of getting rid of this torture."

Fred mentally pulled the rug from under his feet, even though there were no rugs on Venus. He had completely forgotten about her and to put a good face on it, he greeted her politely.

"Tamara, you're here and not on Varalios (Galactic Hollywood). Nice to meet you here."

"You've lied better than that Fred." she just said.

Everyone laughed and Fred felt embarrassed.

"Not OK Tamara. No mind reading. It's forbidden without prior agreement!"

"Not on Exosauro and there are no prohibitions in the universe. Only free will. You should know that." Tamara shot back, causing everyone to suddenly shut down telepathically. Fred knew he had no emotions, like the Earthlings on Terrarion did, but Tamara was awakening frequency fluctuations in him that he didn't find pleasant and he desperately wanted to erase them from his system.

They grew up together on Venus, but one thing was clear. They were not compatible and never would be.

"What are these disturbing fluctuations I'm registering?" the observing mentor admonished without showing any emotion.

"Continue without interruption, otherwise you'll have to repeat everything."

"Don't!" thought some.

"That's what I thought and Fred is right. You mustn't interfere with other people's thoughts without prior agreement and yes, we also have prohibitions Tamara and you should know that. Now get on with it or it'll go off!"

Everyone immediately immersed themselves in the knowledge upload without ever being distracted telephonically again.

"What kind of break-in was that? ...or it`ll go off.... never heard of it before. Strange guy, this observer." Fred thought to himself secretly, but nothing escaped the mentor.

"I know that you and your parents are traveling on to Terrarion. I was there myself and did research for the High Council and believe me, I came back changed. So be careful and try not to investigate the humans, as they call themselves, for too long and it's best to look at everything from a distance, otherwise their habits will be transferred to you and they'll be hard to get rid of. Believe me, you don't want to store them in your system." Said the mentor, who had nevertheless logged into Fred's mind without prior consultation. The good thing was that he did it in a way that the others didn't notice. Fred wanted to know more, but the Menteor refused. All Fred needed to know was in the upload.

"Everything you need to know can be found in the data transmissions. Now, no more interruptions." And with those words, he left the room. Fred carried on, not allowing himself to be distracted again, and after he had made himself powerful with all the knowledge, he searched his repertoire for the data regarding Terrarion and its inhabitants. Without a doubt, he was fascinated by what he learned about this planet and the "humans" living on it. Yes, they were retarded compared to the rest of the universe, but that made them even more interesting and multi-faceted, because they had to use their brains and activate their minds. For Fred, it was like turning the crank on a spaceship. And how they were mostly controlled by emotions. He wondered more and more how this species was able to survive on this planet at all.

But then came what had to come. The negative side and that horrified him telepathically, although it shouldn't be described in earthling words, because as I said, the Venusians had neither emotions nor pity or compassion.

They had logic and that was all. Of course, reason was one of their main assets and that was all that mattered.

Good and evil was not an element for them as it was on Earth, because good and evil did not exist in the universe.

There was unconditional love and a sense of duty to serve the universe so that it would continue to function harmoniously and healingly. But what Fred found in his studies made no sense. This lust for power, this craving for control and the insatiable desire for foreign currency just to burden oneself with all kinds of crap amused him, even made him giggle cosmically, which sounded like a loud clacking. "How stupid is that?" it shot through his galactic skull. But he suddenly felt this instinctive urge to save this earth and the "sheep" living on it. Yes. There are no sheep on Venus, but you know what one means.

He was just thrilled that nothing on Earth was like on Venus, Exosauro or Carantion and probably nothing like the rest of space. To him, this Earth, as it is called, seemed like an adventure or a theme park where the duty to save it would even be fun. And all the things they wear that they call clothes. No wonder the state of this planet is not at its best with all the chemicals to do eight billion people's laundry. Even aliens have to sleep and Fred's eyes fell shut after all that study and research. He was already looking forward to Terrarion.

Patosch on the road

While aliens hundreds of light years away were preparing for their vacation on Earth, the earthling Patosch was heading south in a rented camper van. He wasn't traveling alone, however, because he was taking his dog along, who constantly had to be around his wife Camille, although Patosch always suspected how much the dog preferred to stay with him. Patosch simply radiated a better mood and the dog sensed that. He would have died with Camille if Patosch hadn't taken his four legged friend with him. "Mr. Gonzales" was the name of the Jack-Russel Chihuahua crossbreed and "Mr. Gonzales" loved Patosch more than anything, because he could always get a piece of sausage from him, while Camille ate everything herself and tormented the dog while she chewed looking at him and didn't give up any of her sandwich. Mr. Gonzales was not a moocher, but a gesture of sharing was a sign for him that he belonged to the Van de Brog pack. Camille never saw it that way. So they were both in high spirits on this spontaneously arranged journey and the two friends drove swiftly past Paris towards Lyon. Patosch had changed his plans the day before and wanted to take a detour to explore certain cities along the way. He loved French history, even though he was Belgian in heart and soul, but even as a child he was a passionate reader of books about knights and castles and "Mr. Gonzales seemed to share this passion, as he ran everywhere without complaining and waited outside for his master wherever he wasn't allowed in.

Everyone loved this dog and wanted to stroke him all the time, which he allowed and which delighted Patosch.

In Lyon, the two of them took a break. They easily found a campsite with happy people who greeted each other in a friendly manner when they met while shopping in the small supermarket or when having a walk along the camping area. Mr. Gonzales was also greeted by other dogs at the campsite, sniffing amongst themselves without barking at each other. Neither size, sex nor breed disturbed the harmony between the four-legged friends and so Mr. Gonzales also quickly made friends. Patosch felt better than he had for a long time and bought two bottles of red Bordeaux, some ham and Brie cheese, as well as six eggs and two bottles of water for dinner. A little chat with the cashier about this and that brought Patosch up to date on the campsite rumors, which he showed no interest in at all, but for the sake of politeness he nodded understandingly and was finally able to turn away from the gossip. Back at the camper, Patosch set up three camping chairs and a table. One chair would have sufficed, but if someone wanted to sit down to join in a more sensible conversation, Patosch only had to point to the chair.

Mr. Gonzales was exhausted in the meantime, because his little legs marched a lot over this short distance. For every step taken by a larger dog, he had to take three. He was so tired that he wouldn't even accept a piece of bologna and only ate it at the constant urging of his master so that he could get some rest.

The baguette was cut in two with a rather blunt bread knife and generously smeared with butter before the ham was allowed to bed down on it and the bottle of Bordaux was opened with a corkscrew with a loud "plop". Patosch smelled it with relish and didn't wait. He poured himself a full glass and took a big sip.

"Ahhhh. That's not bad Mr. Gonzales, is it?"

But Mr. Gonzales was already in his deep dreams, dreaming of the poodle lady at number 43. She was arrogant, but not even such a beauty could resist a Chihuahua with Jack Russell genes for long. Patosch took a big bite of the smeared bread and washed down the chewy mass with the red Bordeaux, letting his taste buds do the rest. What a relief. The ringing of his cell phone left him cold. He was on vacation and had just forgotten to switch it off. One look at the display was enough. It was Camille. She probably wanted to know how he could just drive away and close the pub without saying anything. If he had taken the call, the wine would have turned to vinegar and so he switched off the cell phone. He leaned his head back and looked up at the night sky, which was cloudless and starry, and a shooting star that shot from right to left caught his attention, but he wished for nothing, because at that moment he had everything. But what if it wasn't a shooting star, but one of those spaceships like the one in Lontzen?

What the hell. Tonight was beautiful as it rarely was for him and the universe was kind to him. He treated himself to another sip of the delicious wine and allowed himself to immerse himself in this "moment". A moment without the hustle and bustle, without the aroma of smoke and alcohol, without bills, taxes and shopping. Without visits to the bank to rearrange loans that were due. No, that night he felt freer than ever and he suddenly understood what wealth actually meant. Owning nothing but nature, the starry sky and a good companion named Mr.

Gonzales by his side. That was all he needed. After the second bottle, he finally fell asleep on the camping chair and only the barking of his dog brought him back to his feet.

"What's the matter Mr. Gonzales? What are you barking about?"

But all the dog wanted to know was whether his master was still alive, because despite his snoring, which woke up half of Lyon, Patosch didn't make a single movement and his master felt it as soon as he got up from the chair and stretched. His bones ached and the smell in his mouth tasted bitter and foul. What Patosch needed now was coffee and lots of it. An aspirin would also have done the trick, but he had left the small first-aid kit at home in Lontzen. In the meantime, Mr. Gonzales was lovingly handed his breakfast and all was right with the world again.

"Let's find a pharmacy, my friend. Daddy needs aspirin and Alka Selzer. Let's see. Maybe there's a small pharmacy here at the campsite." Patosch and Mr. Gonzales trotted along the grounds, but far and wide they couldn't find a pharmacy and all the small supermarket had to offer were pills that never had any effect on Patosch and were more likely to help people with a placebo effect.

"Merde!" he cursed quietly to himself. His head was threatening to burst, the Bordeaux had given him such a hard time and that was all he drank. On the way back to the camper, the little dog suddenly ran off, barking its head off.

"Mr. Gonzales...stay here...Mr. Gonzales!" But he was gone and now Patosch was allowed to search for him.

After about 500 meters he found him on the back of the poodle from place 43, with his tongue hanging out and scolding the poodle owner loudly, but Mr. Gonzales didn't notice anything and the poodle lady brazenly let it go.

"Is that your dog, sir?" The woman shouted at Patosch.

"That depends." Patosch said with a laugh, proud of his little Don Juan, who simply took what he wanted. He was just following his natural instinct.

"Do something!" the lady shouted.

"What do you want me to do? Would you want to be bothered?"

"Well, that's the height of it. How dare you?"

"Do you have a water hose connected somewhere?"

"Yes, I'll get it." She just said and ran off.

"Well, go ahead and splash if you want to free your poodle from that sinner, you spoilsport."

The woman just stared angrily at Patosch and squeezed the tap of the Gardena system that was connected at the end, but no water came out.

"Have you turned on the main tap too?"

"Help me, you moron!" yelled the woman, but Patosch just shrugged his shoulders, went to the tap and turned it on. It was too late, however, because Mr. Gonzales dropped onto his back with satisfaction. He got what he wanted. A shag with the canine beauty from his dreams.

"Now you don't need the hose any more." Patosch said, but the woman, as angry as she still was, simply sprayed and hit both dogs. She was particularly targeting Mr.

Gonzales, so Patosch snatched the hose out of her hand and screamed.

"That's enough, ma'am. You must be out of your depth."

"Really? If Jenevieve is pregnant, I'll report you."

"Oh yeah? Your bitch put up with it, didn't she?"

"You men are all the same. You only want one thing."

Patosch only laughed even harder, because this woman seemed beyond good and evil to him.

"Of course we are. We men are all pigs but you keep spreading your legs and remain innocent. They're dogs, madam. Do you notice anything at all? They follow their instincts and let's face it, if we were more like these dogs, we'd have fewer wars. Your mutt is not pregnant. Mr.

Gonzales is neutered, but he still likes to ram. He thinks he's still a full male, poor guy. However, I am happy that he seems to have had his fun. Now, let me take my dog and get out of here."

The woman stared at him in horror searching for words, but she couldn't find them. She had never come across such a lout before and no one had ever dared to speak to her in such a tone. With a whistle, Patosch ordered his dog to start moving, who kept pace with his master, his head hanging down. The number 43 shone out of a sign nailed to the tree, marking the parking space of this very upset lady.

"Oh, may I ask you for something, ma'am. Would you happen to have two aspirin for me?"

As if remote-controlled, the lady ran to her mobile home and returned a short time later, speechless, with two aspirin tablets.

"Thank you very much. And again, I apologize for the impertinence of my Mr. Gonzales. He just stormed off on me."

"Again? You've now apologized after I went out of my way to bring you the two aspirin tablets. What the hell. I think I overreacted a bit. Jenevieve is not usually so approachable with males. Your Mr. Gonzalez seems to know how to handle female dogs."

"I didn't know he was such a heartbreaker either. I have to say... thanks anyway and have a nice day."

Patosch turned around with a smile and went on his way without thinking. She looked after him for a long time before she too retreated into her caravan and closed the door behind her.

"Mr. Gonzales. No sausage for you tonight. Shame on you."

But the dog looked at him with those googly eyes and knew that Patosch didn't have the heart to deny him the sausage. Patosch also sensed his dog's thoughts and laughed.

The two of them were in no hurry and stayed at the campsite for another two days, as Patosch didn't have the heart to separate his Mr. Gonzales from his newfound friends and so what? You take your time on vacation.

They went for long walks and explored the area. Patosch also drove to Lyon twice to visit museums, but there he left Mr. Gonzales waiting in the caravan, with the windows slightly open, of course. The joy of seeing him again was always nice.

"So my friend. Pappi has brought you something nice and you'll only get it at the campsite."

An hour later, the camper van drove through the driveway and an oncoming smaller camper van almost blocked his way. He wanted to scream, but he noticed the lady poodle owner at the wheel and her dog sitting in the passenger seat. A surreal image that left him in a state of mild horror.

"Bon jour madame. Well? Going into town?" he called to her through the open window.

"No. We're going further south. Let's see where the road takes us, monsieur."

"I wish you and your darling a safe journey. Who knows, maybe the road will lead us back...."

"I don't think so. Bon jour monsieur!" she interrupted him with her nose upturned and drove on, almost tearing off the wing mirror.

"What was that?" Patosch thought to himself, "I thought we had made up, but who can understand women, right Mr. Gonzales?" But Mr. Gonzales didn't care in the end.

Patosh parked the camper in the usual spot and noticed a new neighbor. A tent was pitched on pitch 23 and a strange woman of a difficult-to-estimate age was settling in. Her hair was dyed a greenish blue, her mouth smeared with black lipstick and fingernails that could have come from a vampire and were also painted black."

"Good morning monsieur...OH I am terribly sorry....I hope I didn't make a mess of your place. I borrowed the tent from reception as I'm traveling as a hitchhiker. What a handsome dog. What's his name?

"Mr. Gonzales is his name and no. You're not messing up anything. You're in spot 23 and I'm in spot 22, everything's OK, madam."

The Englishwoman, Patosh realized, laughed out loud when she heard the name.

"No how funny...hahaha...Mr. Gonzales, how original."

"Why don't you come in? I'll make us a coffee." Patosch offered and she accepted without hesitation.

"My name is Patrick Van de Brogg." he said, holding out his hand to her.