How Christopher T. Twinkles Came To Be

By Davinna K. Wilberg and Mosetta Penick Phillips-Cermak,

New lifeforms are created every day and everywhere in the universe, including on a loading dock on the Planet Zora. A lonely outcast, Missy Chrissy is a dockworker who's convinced her strict boss is going to fire her any minute. When she drops a shipping crate and it shatters, Missy is sure she's lost her job and will be banished. She clutches an Earth-built teddy bear that tumbled from the crate and covers it with her tears. Suddenly, the stuffed-toy teddy bear moves. Reports detailing this revolutionary new lifeform go viral, and not everyone is pleased about the unexpected miracle.

The king proclaims the teddy bear must be returned to Earth and destroyed, but Missy asserts her right as its procreator to decide its fate. Missy, her boss, three somewhat dimwitted security guards, and even a fearless intergalactic warrior have all witnessed evidence of life and are determined to protect the little bear. The unlikely comrades are sent to Earth to face trial. From fanatical cultists set on destroying the teddy bear to those hoping to acquire and exploit its supposed advanced technology, the entire galaxy watches as the court case unfolds. To convince the judge that a three-dollar teddy bear deserves to live--and may even have a message for the universe--Missy just might need another miracle. Christopher T. Twinkles will entertain as it inspires, strengthens, and reinforces the concept of love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: May 31, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889823360

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Preface

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1: The Shipment

Chapter 2: The Failure

Chapter 3: Isolation Cell

Chapter 4: Facing the Music

Chapter 5: The Meeting

Chapter 6: Showdown at Sunrise

Chapter 7: Packing

Chapter 8: Terror at the Fourth Power

Chapter 9: Tricat Karma

Chapter 10: Earth's Turf

Chapter 11: Whorclam and Mr. Mortum

Chapter 12: Courtroom Conflict

Chapter 13: Trial by Judge

Chapter 14: The Why Factor

Chapter 15: The Visitor

Chapter 16: The Moment of Truth

Chapter 17: A Starship Is Born

Chapter 18: Leaving Earth

Chapter 19: The Union

Chapter 20: Trouble Ahead

Chapter 21: Battle Tactics

Chapter 22: Turn Over

Chapter 23: Departure

Glossary of Terms

About the Authors

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How Christopher T. Twinkles Came To Be

Davinna K. Wilberg and Mosetta Penick Phillips-Cermak, PhD

Copyright © 2024 Davinna K. Wilberg and Mosetta Penick Phillips-Cermak, Ph.D

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2024

Illustrations by Larria Paterson

ISBN 979-8-88982-335-3 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89221-209-0 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88982-336-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To all who love teddy bears and wish they were real.

Preface

How Christopher T. Twinkles Came to Be is a cooperative venture that began with a three-hundred-word document that my coauthor had sequestered away in an old trunk for the past thirty-one years. When she sent it to me with the request that I help her turn her few paragraphs into a novel, I cringed. It was the most atrocious writing I had ever read.

The story concept seemed good. Finally, I agreed. And after she promised to give me two years of her life so we could (1) further develop the story concept, (2) develop her writing style, and (3) work this project through to completion, we were ready to begin. With her determination and joie de vivre, I knew we could do it.

Joy and love are an integral Davinna K. Wilberg quality. And the story of Christopher is about love in its various forms. In each chapter, you can sense it; in each sentence of each chapter, it grows. Davinna's love of adventure, curiosity about outer space, and her self-reliance is evident in her writing and her background. As a child, she tried to build a backyard child-size play rocket ship from old throwaway wood so she could pretend to be in space. She once built a dragster in a bottle and made her own tools even though it took her six months to complete.

In another project, Davinna created her own rigging (both fixed and running) on a model clipper ship. Then she studied watch construction and reconditioned old windup watches just to study how they worked. Later, she designed and built her own slot cars. About the age of twelve, Davinna began writing short stories, which became lyrics and music composition (longhand).

She sketched and painted pictures of old buildings as scenes for her stories, several of which she sold. In junior high and high school, Davinna started drawing original cartoon figures for her strips.

In her twenties, Davinna restored several old Harley-Davidsons. She rode Harleys from coast to coast until rather recently. She is known to have repaired the roof of her home by herself after reaching retirement age.

Years before retirement, she started her plastics business and designed her own desktop card holders and boxes with lids.

Creativity and love are in her blood. Davinna demonstrated her love in every aspect of her work. She also holds a ministry of music certificate for her musical ability and for her work entertaining at senior citizen retirement homes. Retired now, her passion remains writing.

Although she is a new fiction writer, she is a published cartoonist. Her comic strip, Christopher T. Twinkles, was another way to confirm her love for her country. It was featured in the Denton Record Chronicle (Denton, Texas 1992). It was adopted as the mascot of the First Cavalry Division during the first Gulf War (1992). Davinna still holds the copyrights to this comic strip. Davinna is also a veteran of the Vietnam War (1967), another way in which she showed her love of country.

—Mosetta M. Penick Phillips-Cermak, PhD

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank Larria Patterson, who first suggested that I contact my sister, Mosetta, to ask her to teach me how to write.

Larria was our illustrator of choice. She is also the illustrator of The Book of Moncoto. Her creative imagination, set design, and photographic skills all contributed to the beauty by making pictures that seem to come alive and add immeasurably to the enjoyment of this work. We thank her for her kindness in placing her other works on hold for this project.

I thank my sister, Mosetta M. Penick Phillips-Cermak, PhD, who taught me with the statements That's telling, not showing, rewrite it properly and That's an adverb, not a noun. Without her expert and forgiving nature, Christopher would still be languishing in my thirty-one-year-old briefcase. She turned three hundred words of what she called worse writing I have seen into a novel all can enjoy.

A special thanks must be offered to Ms. Brenda Carter for her steadfast support in my uninspired moments. She cooked and brought me meals and snacks when I forgot the time of day. She was always there when I needed her.

—Davinna K. Wilberg

Chapter 1

The Shipment

April 20, 2247

The loader boss, Frank Evans, paced back and forth. His steel-toed black leather boots resounded on the worn-out wooden, oil-stained office floor of the smoke-filled boss shack. His new crinkle-free blue company overalls contrasted with his age-wrinkled face and gray handlebar mustache. He popped another candy twisty in his mouth and offered one to his small alien bookkeeper assistant, Buggles, seated at the beat-up office desk.

Buggles raised one of his two purple heads and beam scanned the candy. No thanks, Mr. Evans. Those things contain sugar, and that makes me cough and turns both my faces Chartreuse.

Frank Evans said, They don't work at controlling the smoking urge very well, either. No matter what the commercials claim, someone should sue 'em for false advertising.

Buggles turned his other head to face the wall clock. Well, the loader is late again.

Frank sighed. When in the name of blazes are they gonna give me a new loader?

Not a clue, boss. Buggles refocused on the stack of outgoing orders and placed the top one in the shipped file. With the first of his twelve tentacles, he rearranged the to be shipped file with his second and third appendages. Every time I put in the request order, they stall it off by saying the paperwork got lost or some other ridiculous excuse, Buggles said.

That machine is just worn out. It's old and totally outdated.

The little assistant paused. One minute, boss. All twelve tentacles scurried him to the old vending machine. He opened one of his two mouths, took out a small coin from it with appendage number 4, and plopped it in the slot. A clear glass container of Be-Corell-Cola fell on the lower plate. Number 6 tentacle held it while the others hurried him back to the desk.

Number 7 popped it open, and number 9 lifted the container to his first mouth. Glug, glug, glug, and all gone. A purple haze erupted from his second mouth when he burped.

Frank Evans ducked the haze when it floated out the semi-opened window.

Buggles said, I merged with our loader machine yesterday. It said that it was at the top of its skill curve six months ago, but now, too many parts are wearing out without replacements. But it was doing the best it could for the condition it was in. It also indicated it was looking forward to being retired.

Evans examined the few fill orders tacked on the wall. A breakdown costs time and money. The shipments are late. I got a tight time limit to keep, or they'll fire my old butt. And I need the insurance. This particular shipment could be especially time critical. Where is the loader now?

Buggles rose and opened the door to look out. Fresh air invaded the room, and he drew a deep breath, coughed twice, turned bright red and both heads inflated. A sudden sneeze careened him around the room like a balloon. He landed on the top bookcase shelf, shook himself, and returned to his normal purple hue.

Frank Evans froze, held his sides, and burst out laughing. I never get tired of seeing that. It never gets old.

It's not as much fun as it looks, Buggles said and climbed down. He brushed himself off. I saw the loader machine coming, sir. He pointed a tentacle to the left corner of the loading platform, scurried back, and continued his work at the desk. His six eyes intent on the papers.

Slow, tormented, and unsteady, the faded-yellow loader machine puffed steam vapor high into the air, determined to reach its programmed loading platform.

Frank keyed his shack's external loudspeaker. When the loader lands, I want those Teddy crates offloaded and into that ship's hold ASAP. If I see one person lollygagging, all of you will work overtime at half pay until this order is ready for takeoff. Is that clear?

He dropped the empty candy wrapper on the floor and crushed it with his boot toe. I still need a cigarette.

Buggles shook both his heads. For the life of me, I cannot understand why you humans feel the compulsion to inhale a toxic foreign substance into your oxygen converters.

Frank smiled. That's okay. I can't figure out how you Gigatoins use four brains, six eyes, and twelve tentacles either. So we're even.

The Gigatoin uttered a sound that passed as the equivalent of a human chuckle, though it sounded like a burp to Evans.

The old loader came to rest next to the empty cargo ship with a sigh of relief. Its steam tubes relaxed and vented pressure into the air.

Who is the captain of this ship?

Buggles checked the manifest. A Captain A. P. Nobles. Do you know him, sir?

Craps on a fudge sickle. Yes. Much to my misfortune. Most loader bosses know that black-bearded, scruffy old-timer. Some have lived to regret it.

Oh, I see. I think—

This cargo ship is the IHU Venture? Evans asked.

The assistant said, Yes, sir, it is.

I should have recognized this antique as his. I'm surprised it's still operating, much less in service. Captain Nobles and the Venture are like two peas in a pod, and both are outdated.

Buggles spoke up. Well, he did win the lowest bidder offer.

Frank wiped away some of the dirt on the window with his hand and smiled at the Teddy crates being loaded.

The Venture was built decades ago for cargo. Its design is not pretty but is practical. No streamlining is needed for a cargo hauler. Captain Nobles better be on time delivering those teddy bears to Zora, or we may have an interstellar war on our hands. And only the Tricats have even come close to a win in a fight against the Zoratrons.

Why would the Zoratrons declare war on Earth over a few silly teddy bears being a little late? Buggles asked. I believe that their war with the Tricats ended in a standoff with a rather shaky truce agreement. No clear victor on either side. But it was the only conflict that the Zoratrons lost. I saw on a news clip the Tricats are in a war now, aren't they?

Yes, with the Wogtes. No one goes near to that war zone. In fact, the guide signals from Transport Star Route move their ships well clear of the area automatically.

Frank Evans turned toward his assistant. Mr. Buggles, did you ever take the college course on space contracts and their effects?

No, sir. I studied mathematics, accounting, and business on my home planet. I have no interest in that stuff.

Frank turned back to the window. Perhaps you should have. What do you know about the honorable Native American?

I know they were horribly mistreated. They were monstrously abused with broken treaties, broken promises, lies, and outright deception. Even worse than that, they were subjected to bigotry and genocide. A shameful part of early Earth history.

True enough. But I mean before the European invasion west. Their courting ritual in particular.

Buggles turned a confused shade of pulsating blue. Sorry, no. Why? You know we Gigatoins have no interest in such matters. The concept is without meaning. I was much more interested in Tligbya fighting with the Revits over river rights back home.

My grandfather was full Sioux. The Dakota offshoot. He told me many stories his father had asked him to pass down so the old ways would never be forgotten. One was how the maid would make her choice of a male based on several things. His skill with a bow and arrow. His proficiency in control of his horse. How well his horse was trained. His ability to provide for his future offspring. One thing also was his wealth. In our tribe, wealth was measured in ponies. How many he owned, how well they were cared for, and if he proved his courage by how many he stole from his enemy.

What does that have to do with teddy bears and Zoratrons?

Evans approached the small multitentacled being seated behind the desk. Mr. Buggles, the Zoratron society is similar in many ways. Read the history book. No breakthrough to the Zoratrons could be made for many years. We still cannot understand their native language.

Buggles interrupted. No one can. It is far too complex even for us. Learning Earth English is simple compared to Zora.

Evans continued, Many negotiations for trade and culture were proposed, and each met with disaster. I believe there were only four Zoratrons at the last desperate meeting before the negotiations were to be called off completely.

Mr. Buggles perked up. One of his antennae raised and two of the others locked down.

And?

The Earth's spokesman's granddaughter entered the room and asked for a glass of water. She trailed her bedraggled teddy bear behind her. For reasons known only to Zoratrons, that simple toy triggered something. That Teddy broke the cultural barrier. Now it is the ultimate status symbol for Zoratrons. Like the Native American's horses, or something like that. These Teddys, if not on time, will delay their celebration, and all-out war could ensue. And we will be the losers.

Loader boss Frank turned back to the window. He placed his hands behind his back. Mr. Buggles, our own planet's survival may depend on the timely arrival of ten thousand teddy bears to the Zoratrons in an outdated, ugly, slow, freighter with a long history of breakdowns and piloted by a misfit, nonconforming captain.

He sighed. How ironic.

*****

Captain A. P. Nobles ordered the Venture out of hyperspace for the routine hull cooldown. The engines whined. The old ship slowed and entered into normal space.

Red lights flashed. Alarms screamed. Ion cloud! Ion cloud ahead! Warning, warning!

Captain Nobles lurched toward the controls. Blue, green, and red flashes penetrated all sections of the ship. Every instrument swung wild. The Venture's AI engines recognized the danger and shut down. Circuit breakers clicked off for safety and to prevent overload.

The Venture shook like a dog shedding water. All standard illumination faded. Emergency lights lit red. Quick as it came, the cloud continued on its journey to space beyond the ship.

Nobles reached out, gripped the captain's chair, and steadied himself. Red emergency bulbs flickered off, and the normal brightness returned.

Double-check all systems! A. P. ordered.

One minute, please. I only got two hands, Engineer Bunks said from his console on the side of the control room. Only one problem that I can find, Captain. The outside cargo hatch on Cargo Bay 2 has come loose. I relocked it from here, but weird-acting cloud particles are still inside the hold containing the Teddys according to the camera and sensors.

Is the shipment okay? Nobles asked.

Seems to be, Captain. The cargo camera doesn't indicate anything shifted or misplaced. These particular particles are heavier than air for some reason and, as such, are confined to the lower back half of the shipping crates. I don't think they are ion particles at all. But I can't detect any damage.

Are you able to air purge the area through the vents, pressure test it again, then lock it down?

Yes, sir. Consider it done.

Nobles, now at the control room mini refreshment center opposite Bunks, poured half a cup of coffee. I don't ever want to go through that again.

Bunks swung his chair toward Captain Nobles. Me neither. I have heard stories about many newer ships coming apart in a cloud like that one. Sometimes it's good to have an old model.

Captain Nobles finished off the coffee and patted the main console. My girl may be old, but she's tough. He smiled.

All finished. Purge accomplished and bay resealed, Captain.

Well done, as usual.

Nobles reset the guide computer. He restarted the engines and double-checked all readouts. Satisfied that the engines were parameter steady and in normal operating mode, he engaged the drive. The IHU Venture accelerated to cruising speed, hypered out of regular space, and continued to planet Zora.

Zora Landing Control, this is Independent Haulers Union Venture inbound with your ten thousand teddy bears. Request landing coordinates, please.

A voice that sounded like a cross between a dog growl and a cat purr filled the control room. Welcome IHU Venture. We've been expecting you. Please land in the horizontal unloading position at unloading platform ‘T.' Thirty-four Bukils East, sixty-seven point nine Vixluz North at Ren five point eighty-three.

Nobles entered the coordinates into the computer. The blue light flashed.

Thank you, Zora control. Auto landing sequence is active.

You're most welcome. Enjoy your stay. We have an Earth Outlet Store and a Zora souvenir shop nearby also if you care to visit.

A. P. Nobles shook his head. I will never get used to Zoratron accents.

The Venture's downdraft tubes came to life. She settled on unloading platform T right on schedule.

*****

The sweet aroma of roasted yellow breakfast winnides tried to tempt her. The female Zoratron known as Missy Crissy poured a bowl full of Zittle's dried bifgle food and held it high. Her small white and green bifgle ran to her. All six legs flying, both tails wagging in opposite directions, and yipping loud.

Do you want your breakfast? What do you do? Show me.

Her pet stood with four pads waving in the air. It's single brown eye wide.

Good boy.

She placed the dish on the kitchen floor. The bifgle began feeding.

The talkit rang. Hello? Good morning, Missy Westone.

And good morning to you as well, Missy Crissy. I heard the gossip. Is it true? About you and the arrival of the Teddys?

Missy Crissy smiled.