Episode 77

Well, that was a sight to see. Everyone just stood there with their mouths open. It was like the finger of God coming down and putting a full stop to the whole shebang. Garm says it was part of the roof that fell in; couldn’t take the strain. Anyway, it landed right on top of the Seesh and lit him up like the fourth of July. Nothing left of him but a puff of smoke. Then the silver spout collapsed and fizzled out like a wet firecracker, while Righteous in the meantime scrabbled around on the floor like he was looking for a contact lens; and then he lit up like a roman candle and a bloody great big wormhole opened up underneath him. And I really have to stop swearing like that. Anyway, Dutch was over there like a flash on her flying saucer and fairly zoomed down into the wormhole with Sweet Mary curled up at her feet like a kitten. These people are crazy I’ve decided. Hang around them long enough and you’re going to end up in a box. Then what happens? People start walking out of the hole as if they’re on a Sunday afternoon stroll. First, a couple of humans I’d not seen before…a man and a nice looking broad…and then, would you Adam and Eve it……Sam.

Gennetta was torn between trying to rescue the women in the pit or making sure that Sam didn’t get his hands on Eric. She watched ruefully as Angelo and Belle, closely followed by Sam, made their way up through the wormhole. Her priority however, was the women because she had no idea how long the wormhole would be open, so she could only hope that Eric could look after himself.

The task before her was daunting because waking the women up was proving to be more difficult than she imagined. It was very cold down here and even she was having trouble staying awake. On top of that there were hundreds of thousands of women to rescue.

Just then a beam of light came shooting down through the funnel from up above and there was Dutch on her flying saucer, crozier flaming in her hand as she dipped into the pit and began spreading a vast blanket of heat and light over the surface of the sleeping women. Gennetta could see a sea of women stretching far into the distance. They had a big job ahead of them.

Sam and Eric stared at each other as if it was a remake of the ‘Gunfight at the OK Corral’. This was the moment Eric had been dreading; his dirty past finally catching up with him. And Sam…well, he wasn’t as happy as he thought he would be. Firstly Eric looked like a scientific experiment gone wrong. He was hardly recognizable with his pouty green lips and beefy lizard legs. Anyway, Sam didn’t have his trusty pistol anymore and he wasn’t too keen on hand to hand combat with someone looking so fit and strong and…..animal. And who knows what super powers he might harbour.

But the thing that kept his thirst for revenge at bay was the plight of all those Ahram women lying in suspended animation in the pit below. Sam might have hated human beings with a vengeance, but he loved animals; especially Lizards, many of whom he had kept as pets and found that he had a rare affinity for. Now there were a whole lot of them in trouble down below and his nurturing instincts were in full flow.

“We needs help down here,” he shouted to Eric. “You bring many pipples,” he said and disappeared down into the pit again.

One by one the women began to wake and were gently led out through the wormhole and into the Cantave, where Garm, Angelo, Shim and the rest of the girls began moving the women out of the Cantave’s environment and into the open air, where they could be looked after and fed. Outside the gates many, many thousands of men were standing awestruck as these women paraded by. Many, once over the initial shock of seeing a woman for the first time, had no hesitation in pitching in to help. Even the Contrata, who had immediately switched loyalties upon seeing their boss come to such an inglorious end, lent a hand. The task ahead of everyone was enormous as more and more women were waking up and literally being hoovered up by the wormhole under the very deft and caring hands of Righteous Alchemy. Righteous showed no strain of his recent travails and seemed in the mood to hold the wormhole open forever, especially as Belle was there, hanging onto his large bicep and whispering all sorts of encouragements in his ear. Righteous Alchemy had never been happier in his life.

Then an unforeseen problem began to occur. As more and more women were woken up, fewer and fewer dreamers were available to power the wormhole that Righteous was holding open. Righteous was the first to feel his crozier begin to weaken, but there was no one near whom he could turn to for help. Gennetta and Dutch were in the pit, Shim and Garm somewhere outside.

“See if you can find Angelo or Gennetta, they’ll be in the pit, or anyone who can speak English,” he said to Belle.

Now Belle might have been a dizzy dame in her day, but when there was a crisis, she turned out to be no shrinking violet. With the confident swagger of a train-boss, the little pint sized woman walked into the pit and shouted with a voice that could be heard back on Earth.

“ANGELO! GENNETTA! Righteous needs help right now.”

Within moments Gennetta was clambering through the hole and asking what the trouble was.

Gennetta looked stunned as she listened to Righteous explain the problem.

“Why did I not think of that,” she said and dashed off after the line of women being led outside.

“But we have just woken up,” complained a sleepy eyed Ahram woman.

“I know, but the croziers are weakening and we need more sleepers to empower them. Otherwise many of our sisters will be lost…and this time forever.”

Within minutes a vast ocean of women had arranged themselves comfortably by the roadside and in the fields…and settled down to sleep again…one last time in the service of the croziers that had kept them imprisoned for such a long time.

*

Everyone was celebrating except Angelo, who stood morosely off to one side, watching the happy reunions with envious eyes. The wormhole was finally closed and all the women were safe. It seemed that Angelo’s story was the only one without a happy ending. He thought he would find his Rose once they got to the pit but he was badly disappointed. The last he’d heard from her was through the lips of a snake – not a good memory. Immersed in his thoughts he hardly noticed a Female Ahram who had walked over to him and stood quietly by his side watching him. Eventually she spoke.

“My name is Hudura. I have come to take thee to Rose.”

It took a while for Angelo to comprehend what she was saying.

“Rose? You know where Rose is?”

“Indeed. I have come to take thee to her,” she said, holding out her hand. In a daze of disbelief and happiness Angelo took her hand and let her steer him through the invisible corridors of the Cantave.

“I am her Guardian,” she said as they walked. “I have visited her in her dreams since she was a little girl on Earth. Sometimes she remembers me – often not. Perhaps she will remember this last time, I don’t know. But she has been asleep all this while for that is the only way I have been able to keep her safe from the Seesh.”

“She’s been here all the time?”

“Indeed.”

“And what would have happened to her if the Seesh had beaten us?”

“She would have continued to sleep - forever.”

After that he walked silently by her side, lost in his own thoughts. After what seemed like hours to Angelo they turned a corner and finally there she was, fast asleep on a bed that seemingly floated in mid-air, a red rose on the pillow by her head.

“She still sleeps,” said Hudura. “She has been waiting for thee.”

Angelo practically ran to her side and leaned over, looking longingly down at her.

“Rose,” he whispered. She looked so happy and content; it seemed a shame to wake her. “Rose.” He gave her a little nudge but still she did not wake.

“Rose?” For a moment Angelo was at a loss. He was beginning to panic when something instinctive took over inside of him and he bent down and kissed her on the lips. He pulled back and waited. There it was. A slight flutter of an eyelid, then more…then a sleepy eye peeped out at him and Rose stretched and gave a big yawn.

“Angelo?” she said, coming fully awake in an instant. “Angelo! Oh I’ve had such a strange dream.” They flew into each other’s arms and hugged for dear life.

“I’ll bet you have,” commented Angelo under his breath. Both of them had tears in their eyes. This was probably the happiest moment of their lives. They just didn’t want to let go of each other. “I’m just so glad you’re alright. I’ve been so worried.”

“The last thing I remember was finding my childhood toys under that tree,” she said.

“That’s all?”

“Yes. Except for the dream.” she said. “A silly one about a snake that came in through the window of my bedroom, and I trained it to carry my dolls around on its back. Isn’t that silly? I remember playing it a tune on my flute – the one I found under the tree.” Rose gave a little shiver. “What a strange pet to have. What do you think it means?”

Angelo just looked at her with love in his eyes.

“Anyway, you tell me your story. What’s been happening?” she said.

Angelo looked at her for a long while, remembering her voice coming from the snake and how they had all ridden on it just like her dolls.

“It’s a long story. I think we should go and join the others first. They’ve also been worried about you. Do you think you can walk?”

“In a moment. I just want to look at you for a while.” She pulled him closer and kissed him on the nose.

“Oh, and another funny thing. I dreamed I was pregnant.”

*

The giant snake slid slowly down into the now empty pit of dreams, its metabolism barely ticking over as its temperature dropped close to hibernation point. Its tongue flicked out to take one last sentimental sniff of the air, then it coiled itself into a ball on the floor and went to sleep for a thousand years.

*

Sam found that the thing he had come all this way to do…he couldn’t. He obviously wasn’t going to get any of his money back. Anyway, he had nowhere to spend it now, for they were all marooned on this planet. As for his besmirched reputation….well, that too wasn’t going to matter all the way out here. And anyway, Eric had become a very popular guy round here so he didn’t think anyone would simply let him take his pound of flesh, especially Eric’s girlfriend Gennetta. This Portia looked like she could disembowel him without breaking stride. She had no need to plead about the quality of mercy. It was the other way round. So Sam found his niche helping Eric and Gennetta to organize and look after the thousands of Ahram workers who were now free to live their own lives and had no idea how do it; and the thousands of Ahram women so recently released from their slumbers to find themselves in a strange new environment. The breeding dens were also breached and the breeding women released.

Righteous was happy to discover that he was his old self again…in a manner of speaking. He wasn’t bumbling about in the dark like a blind man anymore. He could now sense people’s proximity and thoughts once again since the Doom had disappeared. But instead of voices - for the wormhole, along with its wisdom, was fast disappearing - his soul was now filled with beautiful melodies. His inner landscape was no longer black but delicate shades of paradise. He saw people’s auras like living rainbows…each one different from the next. Even Sam’s had changed from an ugly luminous green and black, to a peachy sort of colour. Belle on the other hand looked like a Christmas tree with extra bling – she sparkled and twinkled like a mischievous sprite and changed colour like a chameleon.

“What you smiling at my handsome knight?” asked Belle, swooningly stroking his bicep. Righteous Alchemy just smiled and smiled. All was well in his world.

Noot remained Righteous’ right-hand man, but in addition he also found a left-hand woman in the full-figured Murtha whom he had met when the Counsellor had taken them prisoner. They took an immediate shine to each other and were rarely seen apart.

The Counsellor as far as we know was put on a strict diet as punishment for his part in the plot, and had to walk everywhere for exercise.

Shim and Garm, the two wallflowers of the bunch, eventually gravitated towards each other and in no time were surrounded by a clutch of clever and able little Ahram babies.

The Cantave and the slum city were by and large abandoned by mutual consent and everyone moved out into the countryside. Some built little dwellings, though the good weather didn’t make that a necessity, except for the humans who were still very shy about their personal lives and needed a lot of privacy.

I say by and large abandoned, that is, except by me. My transformation is starting to look real creepy now and I don’t want to inflict that on all and sundry. Also, the pain is more bearable in here. Being enclosed in these bone walls seems to help. Besides, I have to learn to walk and talk all over again with my big feet and rubber lips. This snout just isn’t a whole lot of fun. And my sinuses are blocked all the time. I let Gennetta come and see me sometimes but not too often. Not when I’m feeling like this. Anyway, she’s got a lot on her hands with all those people. Seems I’m not the only one having to get used to a new way of life.

I get plenty to eat from the gardens in here – even got myself a room with a view and a balcony; though I don’t spend much time out there. Mostly I just roam around the empty halls and corridors like a ghost. Dutch drops in for a chat from time to time. I like that. We get on well. She’s nice and down to earth. Suppose we should call it ‘down to Urghan’ now.

Actually it’s Sam who comes to see me the most. Not to gloat – but we both know I’m getting my just rewards. No, he’s got this old pack of cards and we spend many hours playing poker; which is actually not so much fun because I have to let him win now.

Dutch and Sweet Mary built an idyllic little house near a river, right next to Rose and Angelo. Rose is beginning to show and never stops smiling. Sweet Mary on the other hand has discovered a hidden flair for home making and cooking and has the comfiest, cosiest house in the valley…along with an outdoor toilet and shower.

 

*

Dutch stared up at the thatched roof of their little hut. A few chinks of light filtered in here and there, but with the curtains closed it was as close to night time in there as they were ever going to get in this valley. She sighed and settled herself into the moss-covered double bed. She’d never slept on such a comfortable bed – or lived in such a comfortable house.

Sweet Mary snored softly at her side.

‘Life is strange,’ she thought. ‘Who’d have thought we’d end up here together – in paradise?’

It was more than she deserved. But she was finally getting used to her good fortune. Sweet Mary moaned softly in her sleep. Dutch looked down and saw Sweet Mary's feet peeping out beneath the blankets. She was glad they were back. She snuggled up against her back and put her arm around her, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. Blissfully she drifted off to sleep.

                             *

Eric the ore-miner's old smashed up space-ship lurched upward into the air as another cataclysmic spasm shook the strange green planetoid, finally breaking the ship apart and scattering bits everywhere as the ancient dragon awoke and shook off her many millennia of sleep.

Spasms continued to rock her as she began the slow process of uncoiling and uncurling herself for the big event. Birth contractions rippled and rang along her gigantic scale encrusted body…one after the other they wracked her great torso, hour after hour until finally she gave a mighty cry.

Far below on the surface of the planet Urghan, the Ahram and the humans watched with astonishment as a new egg-sun began to shine in the sky.

  

                           *

“Oh sorry. I thought this room was empty.” The cleaner began closing the door but the lady called to him. She had been fast asleep when he had entered.

“Please don’t go. You can come in.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

“Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s alright. I have to go now anyway,” she said, gathering up her empty teacup. She looked around on the floor for the teaspoon but couldn’t find it anywhere.

The man dragged his trolley in and began unpacking his squirty-bottles and cloths.

“You from the party upstairs?” he asked. He guessed that because she was rather well dressed. Probably a senator’s wife or something. “Real big ‘do’ they had up there. Not looking forward to cleaning all that up.”

“Yes.” She answered kindly. “A real big ‘do’.”

“Bit of a disappointment though? The expedition being cancelled and all. I was looking forward to it.”

Rose smiled wanly at his boyish enthusiasm for adventure.

“They say the wormhole has become unstable and soon it’ll close. So they won’t be wanting to go down it cause they’re not going to be able to get back. I reckon it’s that Tartarus fellow’s fault, with that crazy space ship of his, set the whole thing off herky-jerky and now we’ll never know what was on the other side.” He chatted away merrily as he cleaned. Rose stared thoughtfully out of the window at the wormhole.

“It’s a pity. I was looking forward to seeing the ‘Sleeping Beauty’ go down the wormhole. Weren’t you?” he said. He looked at her for an answer but her mind was elsewhere.

“Anyway. End of my shift now,” he said, packing up his things.  I’m off to bed. Goodbye.” He wheeled his trolley to the door and Rose turned to him.

“Good night,” she said.

“Good night,” he answered. “Sweet Dreams.”

Episode 76

One of the problems of having a slave labour-force instead of a paid or patriotic one is of course the quality of the workmanship; especially on important and sensitive areas of the job. Ahram workers were no different to any others. When their overseers weren’t watching every little move, corners would be cut and shoddy workmanship often hidden under layers of paste and paint. Mostly, the faults wouldn’t come to light unless they were put under some undue strain or tension.

Of the thirty thousand bone stitches holding the central spire on to the main body of the Cantave, three thousand of them had been inserted by a fellow called Jessup – a surly, mean-spirited sort of bloke who didn’t give a Grob’s scrotum for doing anything properly. He took no pride in his work, since his pride had been pissed on pretty much by everyone since the day of his birth. These stitches had to fit like a glove because the lateral forces caused by wind and weather at these altitudes were tremendous. Needless to say, three thousand of these stitches did not fit like a glove. They hardly fitted at all. And three thousand turned out to be a critical threshold.

The central-top bone spire of the Cantave - the ‘live’ terminal for the event horizon - was in Quantum terms…Hot. The energy coursing through this spire had caused its molecular structure to mutate. Its atoms had been bombarded until it didn’t quite exist in any particular material realm. It had been so altered by the anomaly that it could be sighted in several different dimensions at the same time. It existed neither in the present, future, or past for any appreciable length of time. It existed nowhere and everywhere, flickering in and out of reality and jumping the space-divide like a train-hopper.

This central spire, one thousand metres in height, its faulty stitches giving way under the extreme duress of the event horizon, finally separated from its base and toppled over - and fell.

On its way down it killed half a dozen angels from the Kieron galaxy in the universe but one from this - and three Snorks from the Malthesium realm in another adjacent universe -  which by the way, wasn’t a bad thing. The spire - to all measurements now just pure radiation - plunged through forty five parallel universes before reaching the Cantave floor, by which time it was travelling at thirty seven thousand light years per second.

The captain’s giant hand held him up high in the air as little Righteous kicked frantically to free himself.

“What’s that feel like now my little rat. Not so cocky after all,” He laughed again, his voice a deep rumble from the centre of the hurricane as a bolt of lightning crashed into the storm-tossed ship and severed the top masthead spar. Wind-driven and gravity bound, the hefty piece of wood came whizzing down, jagged stump first and plunged into the captains neck, piercing down through his body and impaling him to the wooden deck where he stood – dead as a doorknob.

The boy fell to the floor and lay there for some time, feeling the rain and spray on his face. Then he heard a faint cry, a woman’s voice, somewhere to his left. With his hands he felt his way across the deck and came upon a closed hatch. Feeling for the latch his fingers touched upon a lock. The vaguely familiar voice called again, directly beneath the hatch. “Help us. We’re trapped in here and the water is rising.”

Instinctively the boy worked his way back to the captain and by feeling around his blood-soaked body, he found the key - an old fashioned iron thing hanging from his neck. As fast as he could, he worked the key up the oily neck and lifted it off over the captain’s scabby scalp. No easy feat, for the ship heaved on the swells and the wind whipped at his face. But soon it was free, and though he couldn’t see it, he fancied that it glowed in his hands.

There were now many voices calling from below as he felt his way back to the hatch. At first the key wouldn’t fit. Slippery with blood, his trembling fingers couldn’t seem to hold it properly. He tried to hurry but it only made things worse. A giant wave crashed over him and for a moment he nearly lost his grip on the key. Tears gathered in his eyes and snot ran down his nose as he clawed his way back to the hatch.

“Help us,” came the woman’s cry again, this time fainter. He had the key and he had the lock but he couldn’t seem to fit the one into the other.

In frustration he swiped at the lock with the key and the crozier in his hand flared into a brilliant black corona of light, burning its way down into the darkness as the widening gyre of a wormhole began to open up and illuminate the pit of slaves beneath.

“Hello big boy,” said Belle. ”I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

Episode 75

Murtha was the sweetest little thing. The smallest and plumpest of Shim’s warriors and her eye had fallen on Noot. Normally her natural instinct to eviscerate any male in the vicinity had to be kept under control when out and about. But one look at Noot and the pendulum swung the other way. Now she was hard put not to upend him and do other things to him. Noot’s shy smile contorted her into all kinds of bashful shapes. It wasn’t the most appropriate of occasions for romance however. She, together with Shim and Eric the earthling, had been watching Dutch’s unsuccessful attempts to rescue Sweet Mary and Righteous when the Counsellor and his Contrata had barged in and all hell had broken loose. Unfortunately the fight had been rather one-sided thanks to the Counsellor having a small army at his beck and call and they’d all been taken prisoner. Garm and Noot were already prisoners and they were all thrown together in a huddle. Noot had introduced himself to Murtha, and she had blushed and said “Pleased to meet thee,” and he had complimented her on her snoot, and she had remarked on his lovely hands which she then proceeded to hold while casting sly glances up at him. This put poor Noot in a bit of an uproar, his emotions torn between Murtha and Righteous, not knowing whether to feel happy or sad. Life always seemed to be a mixed bag of blessings for him. And while they were busy patting palms there was a sudden burst of ooh’s and aah’s and they looked up just in time to see Dutch dive down to the deck level in front of them and come to a confrontational halt in front of the phalanx of Contrata, her crozier seething with unrequited destruction.

“Let them go,” she said to the Counsellor, her flying saucer dipping and swaying like a dog straining at the leash. Since Dutch’s retreat, the event horizon had withdrawn from the ceiling and was now some fifty metres shy of the central spire. The clock had swung all the way back and the Cantave was once more firmly on the ground. The whole episode seemed like a bad dream to Dutch – but she didn’t have any more time to contemplate the vagaries of space and time.

“You can’t do anything to me,” said the Counsellor.

Dutch seared off the handles of his palanquin and he crashed to the floor.

“Ouch. Ouch. Alright. I think you’ve broken my back you know.”

Dutch raised the crozier and it crackled in anticipation.

“Alright, alright. Let them go, let them go,” he shouted at the Contrata.

And this was the moment Shim had been waiting for. In an instant she was on the Counsellor’s back with her knife at his throat.

“Now you’re going to die,” she hissed in his ear.

“Nooo,” he screamed. “Please don’t hurt me.” But Shim had a plan. While they were being held prisoner, Garm had managed to tell her what the Counsellor had said about being the Seesh’s eater. If that was true then she had a prime hostage in her hands. The Counsellor screamed in earnest this time as the knife began to slice into his fat green neck.

Then several things happened all at once. The atmosphere rippled with intimations of an imminent arrival. Something very large and deadly with the unmistakable odour of brimstone was arriving. Flashes of fire nibbled at the oxygen in the air and everyone started looking around for cover. All ­except Dutch. Under cover of the ensuing chaos, Dutch unleashed a coil of energy and unhooked Sweet Mary from her precarious perch on high. In one deft movement she swung her down and tucked her up at her feet on the flying saucer. She didn’t have time for any more though. The air buckled and buffeted and nearly blew them all away as the light was sucked out of the room and the Seesh breezed into town.

“Evening all. You called?” he said facetiously. “And really, there’s no need to hurt the little Counsellor. True, he used to be my food-mate, but after tonight I shall never have to eat again.” And looking at him they didn’t doubt his words. He was the epitome of a supernatural being or some mythical Ahram god. He stood as tall as the sky although he was easy to see at any level. Wherever you turned, there he was. Neither his size nor power was measurable. He was omnipresent and omnipotent, his black crozier lighting up the universe with its evil emanations, sucking all that was wholesome out of the air. Behind him the silver spout of the event horizon spat and sparkled and continued to grow apace, eating at the edges of the pool and spreading out across the room.

“Nice catch Dutch. You really are someone to keep their eye on, aren’t you? Anyway. I see you’ve had a sneaky peek into your future,” he smiled at her. “Did you enjoy the pyrotechnics? But don’t worry. Soon we’ll all be doing the journey for real.” He sniffed the air, and for a moment he looked uncannily like the giant dog that had chased them through the mangroves. “And no. You can’t have Righteous back. I’m looking forward to swapping stories with him a little later on. At the moment he’s dealing with some…personal issues. Like failure, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. But we had a little heart to heart and he has seen the error of his ways.”

With that the Seesh increased his height to the level of where Righteous still rotated about the waterspout.

“Hello Boy,” he said with a Southern twang, “How you holding up? Ha, ha. I have a little present for you. Open your eyes.”

Righteous thought The Seesh was just mocking him, but then, miracle of miracles, he saw an actual reflection of himself. At first the image was just a blurry shadow, but it sharpened and took on more definition.

When a baby opens its eyes for the first time it cannot see perspective. The world is two dimensional and there is no depth. It sees colours and shapes all mingled up in front of its eyes, all equidistant from it. Mother’s face and the lamp stand and wall behind her are all one image. It takes many months before the baby begins to separate the different objects from each other. It cannot distinguish one image from the other. For him/her the whole world is its mother - the chair, the cup, the mother, an auntie – all together.

So too would Righteous have seen, had he had eyes that were opening for the first time. But Righteous’ eyes would never open. What he saw was merely what the Seesh put in his head.  A big black man stared back at him. The words ‘black’ and ‘man’ were now accorded meaning for the first time. ‘Black on the inside and black on the outside’ he thought. He was wonderstruck. He knew it was an image of himself even though he had never seen before. Sure, he had seen images in his mind, but these had been more in the form of pressure-colours and flashes of light…shape-shifting flowings-about in his brain rather than a picture he could see with his eyes. Now he saw an incredibly detailed…he didn’t know what to call it…universe is a word that came to mind; ‘picture’ was far too limiting. Instinctively his hand reached out towards the image.

“There. Now don’t say I never do anything for you.”

Then, before he knew what was happening, there followed a succession of images, all of whom he somehow recognized instantly. Angelo – Dutch – Sweet Mary – Rose – Noot. How beautiful they all were. Then last but not least, came Belle, and Righteous’ eyes clouded over with tears and he could see no more. Everything went dark again.

“Here’s the deal,” said the Seesh after giving Righteous enough time to pull himself together.

“I will let them live, if you give me…well, you know how your folks - and it’s mainly your mother we are speaking about here - used to sacrifice a chicken or a goat when brewing up one of their evil spells? Well I need a little something…a little something like you…to smooth the way with the forces that be, to ensure that my plan goes off without a hitch. Call me superstitious but there you go. We all have our little idiosyncrasies. I don’t need your blood. I need your darkness. Anyway, I’m proposing a simple agreement between gentlemen. You give up your life for theirs. No need for anything distasteful, like violence.” His voice rang in the blackness that was Righteous Alchemy.

“You know this is what you came here for. You also know it is more than useless to oppose me. This is your destiny and it would be well to embrace it with honour and dignity. You don’t want to be dragged out kicking and screaming do you? So unseemly.”

And still Righteous said nothing, for there was nothing to say. The Seesh was right. All he had to do was say the word and the deal would be done.

“Tell you what, I’ll throw in the Earth as a gesture of goodwill. Part of the deal. I will let the Earth and all its people survive. Your friends even get to choose where they want to live. Here or there. What do you say?” He paused and waited for Righteous’ answer. “I need an answer here. Yes or no? Times ‘a wasting boy.”

And so it was. The silver spout, grown to gargantuan proportions, looked almost obscene as it rose up ever closer to the roof. Below them the Cantave was disappearing bit by bit as the event horizon tore itself into the bedrock of the valley of bones and ate its way into the heart of the planet, like the roots of a malign tree, ripping up the rocks and exposing a great magma chamber far below. Truly they were now all perched on the lip of hell.

Sweat fell from Righteous’ brow, ticking off the precious seconds. ‘Not with a bang but a whimper,’ he thought.

“The longer you wait…”

Time had run out for Righteous.  From the moment he had been catapulted from the flying saucer in the crush at the gate and somehow found himself in the Seesh’s inner chamber, the final countdown had begun.

The clash had been a battle of minds, quiet and quick, being composed not of a series of words and arguments unfolding in time, but a compound instant where all was decided at once. In the grand scheme of things, Righteous found that it would have been easy to defeat the Seesh simply because Righteous had long since resigned himself to his fate and was no longer afraid to die. This made him invincible. More importantly, he was no longer vulnerable to the Seesh’s machinations. The Seesh had already played on his guilt and self-pity, and Righteous had become immune to these emotional manipulations. The Seesh had no real  way of hurting him now. He was also more powerful than the Seesh for the simple reason that he was more corporeal than the Seesh. Living flesh could house so much more power than an ectoplasmic apparition like the Seesh, whose only real weapon was fear. If he couldn’t get you to self-destruct through fear or self-hatred or anger, then he was pretty much out of tricks. If you weren’t afraid of dying, there was nothing he could do to you. There was only one problem though…as Righteous had found out in their epic battle. To beat him, he had to equal him. He had to become like him. To conquer him he had to take control of the Seesh, absorb his energy, and in the process, lose so much of his own identity as to be no longer Righteous. He would have become like the Seesh…with all that entailed. To fight evil, he would have had to become evil. So either way he was going to lose. If he fought or if he surrendered, the result would be the same. At least if he surrendered he could save some lives.

With a resigned sigh he nodded his head, and in that instance he felt all his essence flow from him as his mind closed down and his body simply stopped. There was an unholy silence in the hall as the Seesh reached out and took the lifeless husk of Righteous’ body by the scruff of the neck and held him up to the stars. The deed was done. But still the Seesh wasn’t finished. He hadn’t finished saying what he wanted to say…and he wasn’t going to be cheated of his five minutes fame….especially if his audience was now, as the saying goes, a captive one. He had something to crow about and he wasn’t going to be denied.

“What gullible fools you puny mortals are,” he addressed the corpse in his hand. “What possessed you to think I was going to keep my word? Why in the world do you think I was going to spare any of you? True, I was never going to invade the Earth per se. It was just a ploy. What would I want with your polluted planet anyway? It’s a shithouse full of garbage and lunatics.

“And do I look like some penny-ante dictator to you? That’s a thankless task if ever there was one. No. I’m actually not looking to conquer any piddling planet, I have greater plans. I’m looking to conquer God. I want it all you see. To sit on his throne….just Me and My. Then there’ll be some fun and games, hey Pip? What larks,” he laughed and nearly choked on the upsurge of excitement that the thought brought forth.

“I shall rearrange everything to my own taste. Maybe even start again; get rid of all you vermin and try something new,” he mused. “Who’d have thought that in this mad race for ultimate power a lizard would get to the prize first. Arrogant humans. F.Y.I. What I said before was the truth. This isn’t a space ship. It’s far too big. It’s merely here to house the event horizon and..." Here he paused for a dramatic effect, "...and generate enough power for me to make – and here I use the vernacular – the mother of all Black Holes. Once it gets big enough I’m going to pull the plug on this misbegotten universe and build me another one – something a bit more spacious…with all the mod cons. Something…...nice.”

And then he stopped speaking and a slightly puzzled look came upon his face as somewhere deep inside a small voice spoke.

“Hello big boy,” said Belle. “How you doing?”

The Seesh turned his head and angled his chin down, trying to look into his chest where the sound had come from. Down in the darkness of his being, an infinitesimal part of what used to be Righteous Alchemy began to stir.

“I need you to come and fetch me, lover boy,” she said.

Episode 74

Dutch and Eric stood at the edge of the swimming pool, and the black and silver cone of the event horizon continued to stretch itself writhing and turning ever upwards. Righteous Alchemy and Sweet Mary circled around it in mid-air as if on a macabre merry-go-round, their bodies hanging motionless as if from some invisible hook. Dutch could just make out Rags clinging to Sweet Mary’s midriff. But that was little comfort to Dutch as she looked around desperately for some way to help them. And then, like some answering call to a prayer, Shim and her two girls came out of nowhere, scooting across the floor towards them on the Rider’s flying platform. Dutch waved them on impatiently and Eric stepped back so as not to get run down as they sailed up and stopped. Dutch, with a peremptory wave of her wand, swept them from the flying saucer and leapt on board, her crozier flaming furiously. She was a woman with a mission and she was determined to get to grips with the Seesh. She was tired of being played for a fool. But first she had to get Sweet Mary and Righteous to safety.

She urged the flying platform upwards but instead of its normally swift response the progress was slow and turgid…like swimming through custard. She also noticed that the higher she rose, the bigger and higher grew the unicorn’s horn. The closer she got to Sweet Mary and Righteous, the closer the event horizon seemed to get to the conical spire at the top of the building. It grew before her eyes until it was massive – more than a hundred feet in diameter now - and she could quite clearly see her own reflection in its surface. Not only that, she could see a kaleidoscope of multiple images tumbling over each other, fractured and juxtaposed one atop the other like a crazy collage on the move. She saw Sweet Mary and Righteous, upside down and back to front – Rose too was there, swirling around in her oversize bedroom - and overshadowing it all, a panoramic view of the valley, with the Cantave standing in the centre, proud and beautiful, intricate and delicate, its spire reaching up to heaven…or hell.

Urged on by these visions Dutch pushed harder and harder to reach Sweet Mary and Righteous, and all the while the event horizon grew larger and higher. Dutch put every ounce of her willpower into urging the flying saucer upwards. She was nearly there now, just a few more yards.

Then her worst fears came true. Before she’d even reached Sweet Mary or Righteous, the column of the event horizon quivered as it made contact with the central top spire, and a thumping sound like the detonation of an explosive bolt rent the air as the Cantave lurched and lifted off the ground. Desperation struck Dutch like a tidal wave. She could hardly breathe. They were moving. The whole damn caboodle was lifting off. She watched it happening quite clearly in the reflected image of the quicksilver column in front of her. She had an uninterrupted view of the valley and the red mountains slipping slowly down below the horizon as the Cantave surged up into the sky. Dutch urged her flying saucer onwards, desperately trying to reach Sweet Mary now, but for all that she tried she couldn’t get any closer. All that happened was the Cantave picked up speed and was soon clear of the bubble of light surrounding the planet and heading out into the blackness of outer space. Dutch looked downward and could vaguely see Eric and Shim and the girls looking up at her. All their hopes were on her and she was failing…again. Tears of frustration began to squeeze out the corners of her eyes. Why did things always go so wrong with her? Why was everything so difficult? Just for once, couldn’t something go her way? She was hard pressed at that moment not to curse her mother again, the sole reason, she thought, for all her troubles.

Sweet Mary and Righteous continued to rotate quietly round the central core of the event horizon as the spaceship approached the wormhole. In desperation Dutch began hurling bolts of energy at the waterspout to try and disrupt it but she couldn’t even disturb the surface. Then she noticed something strange about their reflections in the event horizon. They were all old. Righteous’ hair had gone white and his face, old and toothless. She too had deep lines and folds of skin hanging from her bony face. Sweet Mary’s skin looked like crinkled parchment, as if all the blood had leeched out of her.

‘Don’t believe it,’ said Dutch to herself. ‘This is just another trick’…and then she had no more time to think because they were engulfed by the wormhole and everything went black.

For a long while there was nothing. The only things visible were Sweet Mary and Righteous circling around the waterspout. The surface of the waterspout showed no reflections or images. Perhaps it would all end here thought Dutch. What if this was all just a bad dream. This would be a good time to wake up and find themselves back in their prison cell. She never thought she would long for that. Then they were through the wormhole and the familiar sight of Earth’s solar system came into view. This was the moment she had been dreading. Things were completely out of her control now and her worst horrors were happening. There was G.O.D. 5 ahead of them, getting closer every second. She held her breath in anticipation as she saw the orbiting gun-platforms begin to explode as they tried to open fire on the great white cathedral emerging from the wormhole like a celestial city. The event horizon was doing its job, blocking anything from getting through to them.

Next, G.O.D. 5’s on-board missile launchers detonated and bloomed like deadly eruptions across its surface as their launch codes were activated and their firing power ricocheted back on them. What the Seesh had said was coming true. In quick succession, every one of the Federation’s Star ships, Corsairs and assorted battleships blew up as they too opened fire on the Cantave. The devastation was complete. G.O.D. 5 itself was nearly torn in half from exploding its entire on-board ordinance, spilling its guts and many millions of its people into outer space. Dutch’s white face stood out aghast against the stars. Her brain had frozen. This was too vast for anyone to comprehend. The Federation fleet was in ruins. Shattered hulks of ships crippled and torn apart, bodies twirling as they went by, defence satellites blasted and drifting helplessly, fires blazing out briefly in the blackness of space…and then they were past it, and the thread of the event horizon now pointed like the feeling finger of fate towards the Earth.

Righteous and Sweet Mary still hung helplessly in front of Dutch - limp and unreachable. Planets whizzed by as the Cantave increased speed even more. More gun emplacements stationed on armoured asteroids along the way lit up the darkness as they tried to stop the juggernaut in its headlong rush towards the Earth. In mere moments they came into view of the Earth, the moon off to their left where she could see fireworks going off on the surface as the defence systems swung into action. Wherever there was a gun or a missile fired…there people died. None of the missiles even had time to launch. They merely blew up on their pads. Then the pretty blue and white planet of Earth filled the screen in front of her. She hardly had time to take it in when a rash of multi-coloured mushrooms began erupting across its surface as hundreds of thousands of nuclear silos and mobile sea-and-land launch-vehicles exploded, releasing a storm of devastation across the face of the Earth. Dutch couldn’t even look anymore.

Nuclear-alert sirens screamed and Dutch found herself thrust this way and that amidst a crush of panic-stricken people fighting their way onto the platform of an underground station, trying to escape the holocaust above. The vain hope was to catch a train out of the city. But there were too many people; thousands of them shoving forward and trying to be the first one there. Dutch had to use her brute strength and size to keep from being pushed off the platform and onto the rail where many had already fallen and died. The single silver rail of the electra-glide frictionless railway track stretched from one end of the platform to the other. The people who touched it were instantly fried. She could hear the train coming down the tunnel and people beginning to scream, those in the pit trying to climb out and those on the platform pushing them back in. A frantic voice on the station speaker kept repeating……

“PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE EVENT HORIZON! PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE EVENT HORIZON!”

A little worm of light began niggling in Dutch’s dim brain and the words ‘event horizon’ tried to hammer their way in through to her attention. She had a vague suspicion that this was somehow a personal message as the train swooped into the station.

“PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE EVENT HORIZON!”

Where had she heard that term before? Then the train was in front of her and she could see Sweet Mary’s face in the window amidst the crush of people trying to get on. Her instinct was to go to her…force her way onto the train and take Sweet Mary in her arms; but this nagging voice in her brain kept saying “PLEASE STEP AWAY…” and finally her own personal alarm-bell started going off in her head. Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong with this picture. It wasn’t right. What was Sweet Mary doing on a tube train anyway? Where was she actually? This wasn’t where she was supposed to be. She was supposed to be…she tried to grab at the thought but it drifted away. It was important though. She could feel that. She tried again.

“PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM THE EVENT HORIZON!”

That’s it. She knew there was something funny with the scene. The voice. It was Sweet Mary’s voice. She was talking to her.

“Dutch. Please. Don’t come any closer. Step back. Step away from the event horizon,” her voice said calmly in contradiction to her frantic face in the window of the tube train, screaming silently for Dutch to rescue her. Which to believe? Her eyes or her ears? All was madness in her brain. She could trust none of her senses. But she had to make a choice.

“Move away from the event horizon,” said Sweet Mary again, “The closer you are, the more it propels you forward into the future.” It made sense to her, and in the end it was her eyes she decided not to trust. With heavy heart she lifted her hand and waved goodbye to the Sweet Mary on the train and her heart broke as the girl clawed at the window shouting a silent ‘No, no, no…’

Dutch stepped away from the edge of the platform and the scene before her stopped. Everything froze. She took another step back and things began to move again…..but this time they were moving backwards. Another step and the train began reversing out of the station, the crowds surging backwards. The further she stepped away, the faster the action rewound. Suddenly she was in outer space looking down upon the earth again, at the mushrooming atomic clouds that were now folding back in on themselves and disappearing. The scene was rewinding like a movie, going backwards in time. And still she retreated, stepping further and further away from the twirling waterspout of the event horizon. Backwards they all flew, for there was Righteous and Sweet Mary again, dangling in front of her. Back they flew, back in time. Close to the wormhole now she watched the federation ships reforming, the people flying back into their safe environments; and as they flew past GOD 5 she glimpsed it returning to its original state, its blasted bits coming together in little clouds being sucked inwards. And then it all disappeared.

Episode 73

“Fools. If you can’t keep me level and stop this bouncing I will have you all thrashed. You’re doing it on purpose, I can tell. You, stop grinning, you idiot, and what are you all waiting for. Let’s go. Let’s go.”

“You’re making a mistake,” said Garm, as the Guards bundled him and Noot along at a brisk pace. They had been captured wandering outside the south gate, bruised and confused.

“I don’t think so. You just shut up. I have enough problems with these morons. And by the way, what happened to all the ‘thee’s’ and ‘thou’s’? Lost your manners have you, you irritating little preek?”

“You can’t win you know. You’re on the wrong side.”

“I’m on the winning side, so I don’t care if it’s the wrong one. God I hate you idealists. If I h…..Watch it! Idiots! Now where was I? Oh yes. If I had to choose between you and the Seesh….well, let me think. What a difficult choice.”

By now they had reached the wall and the Counsellor fished out his bone medallion and held it up to the light. Immediately a section of wall rolled back and the party moved forward again.

“Glad we got in before that crowd came around again. The Seesh….IF YOU DO THAT AGAIN I WILL HAVE YOU FED TO A GROB!”

“But the Seesh has already lost. Look at all his people. They all want to tear him to pieces.”

“So? Rabble. They won’t get near him. Flotsam. Flotsam and jetsam. Froth in the wake of his glorious journey to the stars.”

“And you think he’s going to take you along?”

“He needs me.”

Garm laughs out loud.

“You can laugh. You’ll see. I may be a fat fool with no discernable virtues, but there’s one thing I can do that makes me indispensable to the Seesh.”

“Oh yes. And what’s that?”

“I can eat.”

Garm looked at the Counsellor as if he was out of his head.

“I eat for the Seesh. I am his vessel. You see, he can’t eat. All his organs have atrophied, and yet he needs sustenance to remain corporeal. So he feeds vicariously through me. I supply him with life energy and he gives me a life of ease.”

“He’s a succubus?” asked Garm, horrified.

“In a manner of speaking. But you make it sound so creepy. He doesn’t drink my blood you know. I just donate some of my metabolized energy to him. That’s also why I live out in the country. I get the best fresh food. So all I have to do is eat. And I love eating.”

“But why you?  Why not anyone? What makes you special?”

“I’m his son – one of them anyway – the only one willing to make the deal. Well, you have to eat a lot to feed two people….and the other’s don’t like eating. I was built for the job. And that’s why I am surrounded and protected by so many Contrata. I’m a V.I.P.”

Garm walked on in silence for a while and let this new information sink in.

“So where are we going now,” he said finally.

“I’m moving into the Cantave, a luxury apartment complete with spa and steam room and a lovely view of the stars. Isn’t that nice. No more mother-bloody-nature and her uncomfortable ways. If I play my cards right I won’t ever have to go outside again. I can just sit indoors and eat.”

The Counsellor was nearly drooling at the thought of it.

“Pick up the pace there sluggards – I’m famished.”

“So you’re going with the Seesh when he leaves?”

“And that has got me so excited. I hear that Earth has all sorts of new delectations – figs, for example – I like the sound of them.”

“You do know that Earth’s solar system is in a different universe to ours?”

“I don’t care. Please stop talking. I don’t like it when other people talk.”

“There are different laws there.”

“So?”  he said, despite himself.

“Things might look the same on the surface, but the underlying dynamics are different.”

“So? As long as the food is tasty I don’t care.”

“Well, do you know that the lifespan of a human is only one hundred years?”

No comment from the Counsellor.

“And you, who are way over five hundred years old, will probably shrivel and die within minutes of landing there.” Garm knew that this was the most rank conjecture and only a child would believe something so outrageous.

“You’re lying.” But Garm could see that he wasn’t quite convinced with what he said. “Anyway the Seesh needs me. He wouldn’t let me die.”

“So you think someone as powerful and smart as the Seesh doesn’t have a back-up feeder. That he’d rely his whole kingdom on a sub-intellectual pea-brain like you? Do you really think he would put all his eggs in your basket? Would you?”

This shook the Counsellor to his very core. His confidence was crumbling rapidly. He needed food to bolster his ego.

“The Seesh would never be so stupid.”

But when Garm saw the effect he was having on the Counsellor, he felt a little bad for being so cruel. He didn’t want to destroy him. He just wanted him not to be so cocky.

“But then again…what do I know.”

But the Counsellor was busy dealing with his insecurity another way.

“Faster you fools. I’m hungry. And don’t jog me you lumbering cretin…..”

Garm thought for a while. If what the Counsellor had said was true, though he couldn’t count on it, then he had a way of combating the Seesh. Cut off his food supply and the battle was over. Or even just threaten it.

“I just can’t wait to never have to take another bloody journey again. I’m going to sit in my room until I can’t eat anymore.”

*

Now that the snake was there, Angelo felt no fear. They recognized each other, no doubt about that. Relishing the moment, the snake flicked his tongue out, the tip almost touching Angelo’s nose.

Belle was moaning somewhere at his feet and he automatically bent over and picked her up. ‘Might as well all face the music together’ he thought.

“Who’s the bimbo?” It was certainly Rose’s voice, but Angelo’s mind just couldn’t reconcile it emanating from the snake. Briefly he wondered if he was suffering from some sort of heat stroke.

“I leave you for five minutes and already you’re cuddling up to another woman,” said the all too familiar and beloved voice.

“Rose?” enquired Angelo, looking around as if she was hiding somewhere.

“Here. In front of you,” she said.

Angelo looked at the snake. It just lay there quietly, making no attempt to attack them.

“Who is that?” asked Belle, bristling at the ‘bimbo’ reference.

“You can hear her too?” asked Angelo, quite thankful that he wasn’t going crazy.

“We can all hear snake talk,” said Sam. “Lizard talk. Snake talk, everybody talk. What new? All I say is you got one wery ugly girlfriend.”

“Rose?”

“Sorry. I was just joking. I think. I hope she’s not your girlfriend,” said Rose’s voice.

“No. Of course not. Where are you?”

“I don’t really know, but things are starting to happen. You have to go to the pit of dreamers. All of you – especially Belle. I can’t explain why, but the snake will take you.”

Then he heard it again, faint and far away, a bitter sweet melody threading through the dunes, the snake’s head swaying lightly in time with the tempo. “I don’t know how long I can hold the snake in check. You have to go now.”

“But what is happening? How…..” through all his questions Angelo knew he was just wasting time but he couldn’t help himself. Gennetta, however, understood the importance of Rose’s message and jumped into action.

“We must mount the snake,” she said. The others looked at her as if she was crazy but Angelo finally snapped out of his dither and took control. “Time to go people,” he said steering Belle towards the snake before she could register what was required of her. Together he and Gennetta climbed a dune at the side of the snake and, clambering up the protruding scales, managed to drag a protesting Belle up onto the top.

“Come on Sam,” said Angelo, settling them down between the vertebrae. “Trust me.”

“I dunno. This one wery ugly worm.”