Blac Astronaut's Time Trip

"Stephen, I came here to tell you that I want out of this relationship, you've always been a fool, and a dreamer, you'll never make it into the Space Program," Sally Jackson said haughtily to her boyfriend Stephen Keen, and with that, the tall, well-dressed, supremely attractive young African-American woman rose, grabbed her purse and walked away.

Sitting inside the stylish Rasika Restaurant in Washington D.C. Stephen sighed and watched her walk away. Clad in a crimson evening gown that hugged her curvy body, her short dark hair done just right, Sally Jackson cut a striking figure. Too bad he was going to have to go on without her. Stephen shook his head, wondering how in hell everything went so wrong so damn fast...

"I guess it wasn't meant to be," Stephen whispered, to none in particular, as he looked at the tiny red box containing the engagement ring he planned on offering to Sally. Bitterly he wondered if he could get a refund for it at Tiffany's Jewelers. All around him, in this lavish restaurant, men and women of all hues sat down, chatted and ate, enjoying one another's company. Stephen shook his head, wishing he could be as happy, but knowing that happiness had eluded him yet again...

Born in Brooklyn, New York, to a Jamaican immigrant father and a white American mother, Stephen Keen was raised in Washington D.C. Life wasn't easy for the young Stephen, who grew up getting teased by both black youths and white youths at his high school. Washington D.C. had always been a hubbub of diversity as well as a center of global power, but the capital had its problems with race. Stephen never once felt right. To some, he wasn't black enough, and to others, he was too black. That's Washington D.C. for you...

Stephen's parents, criminal defense attorney Lincoln Keen and schoolteacher Amber Kingsley-Keen, got a lot of stares when they moved to the middle-class neighborhood of Cleveland Park at the heart of Washington D.C. in the early 1990s. Blacks and whites usually got along fairly well in the capital. As an interracial family, though, the Keens were an exception with a capital E. Seeing a black man with a white woman and their mixed-race son got a lot of Washingtonians ( of all races ) dander up...

This was not today's Washington D.C. This was the start of the Clinton years, where even though liberalism and progressivism reigned in the White House, many in the capital felt that there were some lines that weren't meant to be crossed, as far as race was concerned. The Keens, a hardy breed, adapted to their new environment. In spite of his difficulties at school and elsewhere, Stephen Keen graduated with honors from Emerson Preparatory School, and enrolled at Howard University, where he studied civil engineering.

After graduating in the summer of 2013, and encouraged by President Barack Obama's outspoken support of the U.S. Space Program, Stephen Keen began working for N.A.S.A. It was his dream job. Inspired by Star Wars and Star Trek growing up, Stephen always dreamed of working for the Space Program. While visiting his hometown, a year after he was hired by N.A.S.A. Stephen met the lovely, feisty Sally Jackson, a Law student at Howard University's School of Law. The tall, bespectacled science nerd and the fiery B.A.P. actually clicked. It was love at first sight, or so Stephen thought...

Fast forward four years later, and Stephen Keen found himself shortlisted for the next Space Mission, ironically supported by the Trump Administration, which he vehemently opposed, once upon a time. During the 2016 Presidential Election, Stephen watched the rise of Trump, fueled by xenophobic voters who hated Obama. Yet it was the Trump administration that revved up the Space Program's engine...

"Mr. Keen, you are going to space, congratulations," said Stephen's boss, NASA veteran and former Space Station commander Neil Brentwood. Stephen shook the old man's hand and then barely stopped himself from jumping for joy. Immediately after, he called his parents to give them the good news. Stephen, still elated, decided to celebrate, and headed to D.C. where he planned to propose to his girlfriend of four years. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to ask her. Sally Jackson dumped him on the spot, and walked out of his life, possibly forever...

"Sorry to hear about that, bro, someday you'll find someone better than what's her name," said Stephen's friend and co-worker, U.S. Air Force Captain Doyle Connors. Stephen looked at the tall, burly, red-haired and green-eyed Irishman and smiled wistfully. Doyle and Stephen met during the latter's first day working for the Aerospace Safety Advisory Panel, N.A.S.A.'s most ruthlessly competitive department. The Galway-born, naturalized American pilot and the smarty pants from Brooklyn became fast friends, and the rest was history.

A few months later, Stephen Keen and Doyle Connors found themselves piloting the all-new, state of the art spacecraft Hercules IV, scheduled to dock at the International Space Station to conduct repairs. This was the first manned mission to space since November 17, 2016. Unfortunately for Stephen and Doyle, they encountered some turbulence as soon as they left the planet Earth's atmosphere...

"What the fuck is that?" Doyle shouted as he and Stephen sat in the cockpit of Hercules IV, watching as a strange cloud appeared out of nowhere against the blackness of space. The two men looked on, astonished as the cloud began to envelop their spacecraft, acting more like a living thing than a random phenomenon of space. Next thing Stephen knew, the spaceship was spinning, and they found themselves hurtling toward the planet Earth...

"May day, may day, something has taken hold of the ship and we're experiencing forced re-entry into the earth's atmosphere," Stephen screamed into the radio, and he and Doyle braced themselves for the worst. The planet earth, big and blue, loomed large on their screens as they sped toward it, and almost certain death. As the spaceship tumbled through the skies, Stephen sent a prayer to a supreme deity he had long stopped believing in, praying for his salvation...

When Stephen Keen came to, the first things he noticed was that his co-pilot Doyle Connors was dead, his neck having snapped at some point during the crash, and their spaceship had fallen in the middle of a field somewhere. As the young astronaut extricated himself from his seatbelt, he glanced at his fallen friend, and nodded sorrowfully.

"Rest in peace, my friend," Stephen whispered as he closed Doyle Connors eyes, and then he performed a systems diagnostics on the spaceship, only to find out that it was wrecked beyond belief. The young man walked through the broken spaceship, and finally made his way out. His radio wasn't functioning, but he was sure that N.A.S.A. would soon send someone to retrieve him and that was that. Exiting the spaceship, Stephen was blown away by the vivid blue sky and the endless greenery stretching in every direction. Where in hell was he?

"Hello, this is Stephen Keen, we've crashed somewhere, Captain Connors is dead, please respond, over," he shouted in his radio, but got only static as a response. The young man walked around for a bit, wondering where in hell he was. The landscape around him reminded him of the endless green hills of Kansas, which he visited for his aunt Cecilia's wedding a while back, only these green hills were at the edge of a forest.

Still, something inside told Stephen he wasn't in Kansas anymore. An animalistic roar from somewhere in the distance caused him to gasp in surprise, and Stephen headed toward a copse of trees a few hundred meters away. Probably a mountain lion or something, Stephen told himself, puzzled as he was by the cat-like roar which he heard a few moments ago.

"Oh shit," Stephen Keen said to himself, as he walked into the clearing, where he beheld an impossible sight. A pride of saber-tooth cats had apparently brought down a large bison. The young African-American astronaut backed away slowly, his hands instinctively reaching for his pistol. The lead saber-tooth, a large male that looked like a lion yet was the size of a bear stepped forward, his outsized fangs gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight.

Stephen pulled out his pistol and fired, and the bullet glanced off the monstrous cat's shoulder. The beast let out a pained yelp, and at once the others ceased to feast on the fallen bison and turned their feral eyes to the interloper. Which is just about when Stephen tripped over a piece of wood, and fell on the ground.

The lead sabretooth raced toward him, powerful muscles flexing as it cleared the gap between them. Struck with abject terror yet unable to scream, Stephen braced himself for the worst. The Brooklyn-born astronaut couldn't believe he was about to die, devoured by a creature that ceased to exist twenty thousand years before he was even born, thanks to the wonders of time travel...

"Ker," came a feminine voice, and Stephen looked on, amazed, as yet another fantastic vision manifested itself. A woman came leaping out of the jungle, brandishing a spear. The lead saber-tooth launched itself at the new arrival, who faced the monstrous animal without fear. The woman hurled her spear at the beast, and the cat let out a pained yelp as it thudded into its chest. The animal mewled and thrashed about wildly, then lay still...

The remaining sabretooths, three in number, surrounded the woman, who pulled out an impressive-looking knife and held it before her. The beasts drew closer to her, and Stephen was certain that he was about to witness his savior's death. The young man suddenly remembered his pistol, cocked it, and fired. Three shots rang out, and each found their mark. In the blink of an eye, the three sabretooth cats fell to the forest floor, dead.

"That was close," Stephen said, smiling, as he rose to his feet. The wild woman turned to face him, and he blinked in surprise. For she was quite striking, a brown-skinned, feral beauty with dark hair braided into thick tresses and yellowish brown eyes. Clad in animal furs, with a ferocity in her eyes which gave him pause, she faced him. Stephen looked at the blade in her hand, and hesitated...

"K'ar, Tak-nor?" said the woman, cocking a thick eyebrow, and Stephen looked at her, and shrugged. As astonished he was by the presence of sabretooth cats, the young astronaut was even more puzzled to find himself facing a jungle woman. Before Stephen could even attempt a reply, three more women arrived in the clearing. Like the first one, they were tall, curvy, with dark brown skin, woolly dark hair and wore animal skins. Oh, and they also carried spears and knives...

"Ladies, I'd hate to avoid any sort of misunderstandings here, I assure you that I, um, come in peace," Stephen said, and the lead Huntswoman approached him, still clutching the knife. Her eyes flitted over him, and she paid particular attention to the pistol, which he holstered to show her that he wasn't a threat. The last thing he wanted to do was start a fight with these gals, whoever they are...

Stephen bowed his head gently, and the strange woman relaxed, somewhat. Now we're getting somewhere, Stephen thought. He still had no idea where he was, but perhaps those primitive jungle people could be reasoned with. When he took a step closer to her, one of her companions surged forward and knocked him out with the butt of her spear. Dammit, Stephen thought, before fading into unconsciousness...

Stephen came to slowly and painfully, and found himself tied to a wooden post, in some kind of village. Everywhere he looked, he saw men and women, as well as their offspring, going about. They wore animal skins instead of clothing, and went about their daily business. Stephen saw a burly, dark-skinned man carrying bails of hay, and several young men were leading carts pulled by massive dogs. Impressive, the young astronaut thought...

Stephen noticed that the women of the village seemed to be the only ones carrying weapons. The men seemed to carry farming tools only. Lord, I think I'm in Amazon country, Stephen thought, wryly amused and a bit disturbed by what he was beholding. Four women with the look of Hunters strode into the village, dragging behind them the carcass of a sabretooth cat. Stephen recognized their leader, the one who saved his life...

"Hello, lady, I saved your ass back there, care to untie a brother?" Stephen hollered, and the lead Huntress looked in his direction. She exchanged a few words with her companions, then walked up to him. Stephen finally got a good look at her. The tall, curvy woman clad in animal skins was fiercely beautiful. In a jungle femme fatale kind of way...

With her ochre-colored skin, large dark brown eyes, angular face, full lips, thick eyebrows and curly, kinky hair which was neatly braided, the Huntress reminded Stephen of an Ethiopian female student he once knew at Howard University. Stephen once tried to holler at the beautiful, exotic Habesha gal but she ditched him for a thug named Jermaine. That was shortly before Stephen graduated, and way before he met Sally Jackson...

"Mak tek ou," said the Huntress, and she pulled out her wicked-looking blade. Stephen held his breath, and she smiled as she cut off his...restraints. Stephen exhaled sharply. All kinds of unpleasant scenarios had been going through his head as the Huntswoman approached him with that blade. This seemed to be a village of prehistoric Amazon women. If they were anything like some of the angry women's studies gals at his old campus, he had good reason to fear for his family jewels...

"Thank you, Miss Huntress, ma'am, I'm Stephen," the young astronaut said, tapping his chest. The Huntress looked at him, a puzzled expression on her fierce yet beautiful face. After a brief moment, she seemed to get it, then tapped her chest as well. Now we're getting somewhere, Stephen thought with a smile.

Stephen looked down, and noticed that, like the rest of the women in this jungle village, the lead Huntress went about without a bra. Or any sort of top. She simply wore a fur coat which encircled her shoulders, forming a sort of cape, but left her breasts bare. How do the men in this village get any work done with enchantingly beautiful creatures like that around? he thought, amazed...

"Kee-Yah," said the Huntress, cocking a thick eyebrow, and Stephen smiled and nodded respectfully. Bowing his head slightly, as he had many times while meeting with foreign dignitaries as an official of N.A.S.A. he offered her his hand. Kee-Yah looked at his hand, both his palm and the surface of his hand, and shrugged. Sighing, Stephen shook her hand, and she gripped his, almost crushing it.

"Um, good to meet you too, ma'am," Stephen said, wincing a bit as Kee-Yah squeezed his hand a bit too hard, then suddenly let go. Beckoning for him to follow, Kee-Yah went to the village square. Men and women came out of their ochre-colored huts, and gathered around her. Gesturing to Stephen, Kee-Yah pointed to the sabretooth carcasses, and shouted something in her language. Stephen noticed the people shifted their gaze to him, their faces filled with awe...

"This is going to be good," Stephen said to himself as he joined Kee-Yah and the others in a feast apparently organized in his honor. The tribe called him "Ker-Mi-Tan," which meant "killer of cats" in their strangely guttural yet beautiful language, as he would later learn. Tonight, though, Stephen enjoyed the tribe's hospitality. They had no name for themselves, but Stephen called them the People of the Plateau...

"Vini-awek-mwan," Kee-Yah said, as she linked her arm with Stephen's, and he smiled, both surprised by her unexpected act of familiarity, and the fact that she seemed to be taking an interest in him. Stephen nodded at this beautiful, wild woman, and followed her to the feast. That night, tens of thousands of years and untold kilometers from everything he'd ever known, Stephen Keen of Brooklyn, New York, dined on sabretooth meat on the ancient African savannah...

Stephen stood on the sand, and smiled to himself. The lake was absolutely idyllic, tranquil beyond anything painted by Norman Rockwell, and as he smelled the air, all he detected were natural scents. Growing up in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, he'd grown used to pollution, and toxicity. Just another fact of life in the United States of America...

While his hometown of Washington D.C. wasn't as bad as, say Los Angeles, most major North American metropolitan areas, from new York City to Toronto, from Houston to Miami, had a pollution problem. In this unspoiled Eden, Stephen felt at home, something he hadn't felt in a long time. Yup, he'd grown used to life in this new world. Trapped tens of thousands of years in Earth's past, Stephen finally found a home. The past year spent among these prehistoric people had been wonderfully educational...

"Ker-Mi-Tan, stop daydreaming and get in the water," came a voice, and Stephen smiled, watching Kee-Yah as she rose out of the surf, like Venus of old, only better. For the tall, curvaceous, decidedly statuesque African huntress looked magnificent, beyond anything he'd seen while attending university, or while viewing porn sites, for that matter.

Stephen feasted his eyes on Kee-Yah's gorgeous body. Nude, she walked up to him without fear or shame. In the twenty-first century, just like in centuries past, women's bodies continued to be the source of fascination, condemnation and frustration for men worldwide, something Stephen could totally relate to. He'd had his fair share of problems with the opposite sex...

The Saudi Arabians made their women wear burkas. French nationalists railed against Muslim immigrant women wearing hijabs on the streets of Paris. Maasai women in Kenya, East Africa, went about wearing very little, fearless displaying their Nilotic beauty. Women in North America and Western Europe wore whatever they wanted, from bikinis to men's suits, from hijabs to low-cut dresses. For they were freed by feminism more than half a century before. Here, in this primeval jungle, Stephen finally beheld true female beauty, and her name was Kee-Yah...

"I'm coming," Stephen replied, laughing, and he swiftly joined her in the lukewarm water. Kee-Yah grinned, watching the awkward young man, whose face was now adorned by a thick beard, as he came to her. From the onset, she found him strange. For starters, he wore strange vestments that were neither animal skin or any fabric she was familiar with. Also, he carried a strange metallic weapon which fired tiny but lethal thunderbolts. And he seemed strangely fascinated by her body, as though women were something strange to him. Whatever village he came from, she did not care to know. For Kee-Yah had long since claimed the "man from the sky" as her own...

"About time," Kee-Yah replied, and she drew closer to her Ker-Mi-Tan, who smiled bashfully at her. Like all the women of her tribe, Kee-Yah was raised to be a Huntress. It was the women's duty to hunt wild game to feed their families, like the lionesses in a pride of lions. It was the men's duty to look after the sons and daughters of the tribe, cultivate the earth to provide a bounty of fruits and also defend the village from invaders, human or animal, when necessary. Yet Ker-Mi-Tan told her that in his village, things were different...

"In my village, both men and women can hunt and carry weapons, though it's mostly men who do these things, and the leaders of the various clans or tribes in my world tend to be men," Ker-Mi-Tan/Stephen once told Kee-Yah, and the young Huntress remembered shaking her dreadlocked head in disbelief. Sure, men were usually larger and stronger than women, but they were also clumsier. The idea of them hunting down sabretooths, woolly mammoths and dire wolves made her laugh...