username: MotherMother
kalon name: Cosmo
do they believe in aliens? why/why not?:
The sun was a sliver of light over the barren horizon. Cosmo sat on the dusty ground, hair clutched in his paws as he grimaced with frustration. So many questions, but he had yet to find the most important answers.
He threw himself back and lay facing up at the stars. Could there be life out there?
Cosmo had no one to ask these questions, nobody at all. He didn't know what a Kalon was. He didn't know family or friends. He was the only creature on his entire red planet. He didn't know how he got here, and he wouldn't even know that there's supposed to be other living things if it weren't for the pile of rubble near his camp.
June 17, 2052.
Mayday! The Apollo 19 has impacted with Mars. I repeat, Apollo 19 has impacted with Mars. The lone pilot, Cosmo Rikley, is unresponsive.
June 18, 2052.
All efforts to contact pilot Cosmo Rikley have failed. He has reportedly not moved from the crash site. We suspect the worst.
June 19, 2052.
Pilot Cosmo Rikley has been declared dead. Cause of death, failed mission to Mars. Rest with the stars, my friend.
The satellite transmission on his demolished space craft spat out a crumbling message. He listened to it over and over, but couldn't remember a thing. "My name is Cosmo Rikley," he recited, learning this by the audio. "I was a pilot for Apollo 19. I survived a crash landing onto Mars." He closed his eyes and felt the pull of sleep. "My name is Cosmo Rikley..."
He awoke the next morning, a lonely feeling pressing down on his chest. But with it, a spark of hope lay in is heart. He'd been planning this for weeks; gathering tools, drawing out blueprints in the dust. Today was the day he'd try it.
He started by examining the debris of what used to be the Apollo 19. By now he'd learned it inside out, what with all the lonely time he had.
Gears in his brain started to turn, and his paws went to work. Twisting knobs, hammering sections back together. He was sweaty and sore when it was finally ready. He stepped back to look at his masterpiece.
He had what he hoped was a now-working radio transmitter, in which he could send and receive calls from interstellar planets. He took a deep breath, trying to not get his hopes up. He didn't know if he'd be able to handle the crushing disappointment if it wouldn't work after months of labour.
He flipped a few switches, calculating numbers in his head.
He heard a crackle of static. His heart leapt.
On Earth, a commander at NASA furrowed his brow at his computer screen. "Sir?" He turned to his superior. "You might want to see this."
Cosmo clung to the transmitter as if it were his own life.
He heard a screech, then a crackling of words. "This is NASA in Washington, D.C. from the planet Earth. We are peaceful, and welcome extra terrestrial life."
Cosmo hesitated. They thought he was an alien! But in a way, he was. He belted out the words he'd rehearsed day in and day out. "My name is Cosmo Rikley, I was a pilot for Apollo 19. I survived a crash landing onto Mars."
The voice on the other end choked. "Cos?" Said the creature on the line. Cosmo faintly recognized the voice. He heard it say in the distance, "Chief, get over here! It's Cosmo!"
Cosmo bit back tears as he heard the words, "you're coming home, old friend."
extra: 200 words added to prompt