Into the Fourth Universe

by Robert Wingfield

  “Like the face-wear,” he said. “Gives you that aristocratic, slightly deranged villain look.”

  “Thanks, old boy. But what about you, in that caricature outfit of yours? You wouldn’t be a Private Dick would you?”

  “One has to look the part and live the part to be the part, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate.”

  “Of course; forgive me for my sarcasm.”

  “You don’t need to apologise; a master villain needs to be sarcastic, as part of his evil persona.”

  “Does he? I am still practicing, don’t you know.”

  “Yes, I understand. Anyway, we have a stand-off here. How are we going to break the stalemate?”

  “Stand-off? You mean the way we have four guns trained on you, and you have yet to take the safety catch off yours?” Arthur smiled.

  “Good point. So what’s going to happen now?”

  “We shoot you, old boy, and then carry on with our evil doings. Now, who would like to do the deed?” He looked round his three henchmen.

  “Me, boss,” they chorused.

  “Just a minute.” The Magus was stalling for time; perhaps he could use his telekinesis to get himself out of trouble.

  “What?” The eyebrow went up and the monocle dropped out on to its tether. Arthur replaced it.

  “You are an evil villain, yes.”

  “One tries.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me your devious plans before you kill me? The villains always do that.”

  “What, so you can escape and then thwart our cruel intentions?”

  “How would I be going to escape?”

  “That would be if we tie you to a bench with a circular saw, or delegate to our most stupid member…”

  “Your lordship?” One of the men stepped forward. “Permission to dispose of this busybody?”

  “Not yet, Algy, I haven’t finished detailing ways in which the Magus can escape, all of which of course we must prevent.”

  “Sorry, boss.”

  “Or we could all shoot you now, dear fellow.”

  “Yes, fine, but what about the evil plans.” The Magus was getting agitated. He was looking for his opportunity to escape but needed to find out more.

  “If you must know then…”

  “Do tell.”

  “Before we kill you, old chap, you are quite right that it is only fair we share something of our plans.”

  “Please go on.” The Magus hugged his coat around him in the cool air of the cellar.

  “The Star.”

  “What?”

  “The Star of Time.”

  “Stars,” the Magus corrected, and then instantly regretted his slip.

  “More than one? I see. Tell me more.”

  “Just a minute, you are the evil villain. It should be you, telling me, not the other way round.” He nodded at the leader. “Unless you’ve become an interrogator now?”

  “I suppose I could put in for a change of role, but you have no idea how much paperwork that would involve.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “No you don’t. I would have to make sure I got a ‘4’ rating at my mid-year review and go through all the interviews. Then I would already have to have put it on my PDP in order to justify my future goals, and if everything worked out fine, and I was a fully paid up member of the ‘old boy’ network and there was a vacancy, I might make it. There wouldn't be a pay rise though; the company have put in a pay freeze for the next twenty years.”

  “Company? I thought you were working alone?”

  “We are, sorry. We are on contract at the moment. So you see, it is not worth going for the interrogator role.”

  “One thing?”

  “Fire away.”

  “As long as you lot don’t… Anyway, you mentioned PDP; what’s that, ‘Proactive Death Protocol’?”

  “You josh with me my friend. No, I thought everyone knew that a PDP is a ‘Personal Development Plan’. It is implemented by the larger organisations in order to keep the staff busy and take their minds off the fact that they are being screwed in all areas of their job function. It is meant to make people think that management care two farts about their progress in the company. Everyone knows, however, that unless the company is making big profits, management treat their staff like shit. They haven’t realised yet that they need to be nice to those people…”

  The Magus nodded sagely. “So could you could define a PDP for me in one sentence?”

  “Is a document designed to waste time, filled with vague imaginings which will never come true, to meet the requirements of leaders who don’t care and will never read them anyway.”

  “A good explanation; I shall write it down.”

  “Keep your hands in your coat, Magus. You won’t be living long enough to bother with any writing. I’m afraid that now you have learned our evil plan…”

  “Hang on; you haven’t told me what your plan is yet; just something to do with a Star, I, er, know nothing about.”

  “Of course. Forgive me…”

  “I will if you don’t shoot.”

  “The Star of Time. It is a key to open a portal to another universe.”

  The Magus whistled. “You don’t say. Another universe, how can that be possible?”

  “Oh yes, it is very possible. And in that other universe are countless riches.”

  “So you’re off to count them?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. So what’s the plan?”

  “We find the Star, we open the portal, we go and get rich, and bugger the PDPs. We can then leave the company and retire to a planet exactly like this one to live in luxury and fornication.”

  “Except me.” Algy was scratching his crotch.

  “Yes, except Algernon, who has plans to go into a life of celibacy and contemplation.”

  “After the hospital appointment of course,” said Algy.

  “Of course,” agreed the Magus. “And was it your team who killed Rannie?”

  Arthur hesitated slightly before he replied. “Yes, I’m afraid so. Sorry, old boy.”

  “Why?”

  Arthur looked round his minions and then took a breath. “I suppose I can tell you. Ms Dearheat’s DNA holds the key to tracking down the Star. She is a being of both universes, you see.”

  “Is she now? Is?”

  “Sorry, was.”

  “So where do we go from here?”

  “We go to the location discovered hidden in the DNA patterns; I’m afraid you stay here, somewhat riddled with bullets.”

  “Ah.”

  “And don’t try any of that transference nonsense. We have put up a ‘mind field’ to disrupt the molecular reassembly.” He indicated the sign ‘Achtung Minden’. On one of the machines.

  “Go on. There’s no such thing. You would have to have sequenced my own DNA to implement the correct filters; it can’t be done.”

  “Please feel free to try then, old boy.”

  “You won’t shoot me if I do.”

  “Cross my heart and hope you don’t die before we shoot you.”

  The Magus concentrated. Normally the transference would be a split second blur, but as he tried, the molecules of his body were torn and split into random mass. The pain was unbearable and it was with great difficulty he was able to return to his original form. He swayed on his feet.

  “Would we lie to you?” Arthur smiled. “Got to go now, but it has been nice to meet you in person. Toodle pip.” Four guns were now trained on where his heart would be if he had been remotely human.

  “I have backup you know.” The Magus was clutching at straws. “My associate is covering the top of the stairs. If I don’t come out first, he will shoot to kill.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s true. Can I call him?”

  “Of course. Who would I be to stand in the way of a dead man’s last hope?”

  “Ludwig!” There was no reply. He shouted louder. “Ludwi
g Gottstein, are you there? Ludwig, I need help.” There was still no reply. The villains exchanged sympathetic glances and started to polish their guns. “Ludwig. There will be four men coming up the stairs. Shoot them all.”

  “It is a waste of time. You are bluffing. Goodbye Magus. Off you go, chaps, kill him now. Last one to fire is a sissy.”

  Four guns spat environmentally-friendly lead substitute.

  Caryl does the Laundry

  U

  nder cover of darkness, the girl sneaked up a narrow cliff path at the southern end of the Island; the end farthest away from the invading troops. She had moved her refuge away from the makeshift hut, originally thrown up near the wreck of a crashed plane, and created a new one hidden in a cave. She was always afraid that the wrong people would find the Island, and wanted to be sure they would not find her too. She set it up as a home, waiting for her man to come back to her as he promised, but was losing hope now. The arrival of the troops from the other place had made her mind up for her. She needed to get to the mainland and search for him herself. At least she would know what had happened to him then. But how could she get over there? Now that the troops had arrived, that was vaguely possible; perhaps she could steal a vehicle or stowaway in a boat. The sun came up and she sat all day in the warm sun by the cave entrance, trying to make plans. Only one answer kept coming back; theft was impossible; she had to risk using the invasion force to transport her over to the mainland.

  Darkness fell again and she sneaked back up above the cave mouth and on to the main part of the Island. The stars were out, but the moon had not yet risen. The darkness would help to conceal her movement. She eased her way carefully down the slope using all available cover and into the gloom of the forest of fruit trees between her and the army. The going was more difficult in there, and it took some time before the glow of the camp-fires came into view. She stopped and peered through the last few bushes, trying to see what was happening.

  “I thought you might be back.” The voice was sharp, and the grip on her arm sharper.

  “Let me go!” She struggled in the hold, and tried to kick the man who held her.

  “Don’t struggle. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “What do you want?” She realised that she had been caught by one of the soldiers. His voice sounded familiar though.

  “I saw you yesterday, down at the cove.”

  “You’re hurting me.”

  “Sorry. I’ll release you if you promise not to run; I’d hate to have to shoot you. Okay?”

  She regarded him suspiciously, but nodded her agreement.

  “Do you have a name?” he asked, releasing her arm, but keeping his finger on the trigger of his pistol.

  “Caryl Six,” she replied, deciding to trust the man.

  “Good,” said the soldier. “I thought you might be. Antarn is still looking for you.”

  Caryl went white. “Are you going to turn me in?”

  “I will see that no harm comes to you, but if you go now, the others will find you anyway and then it will be bad. Will you take your chances with me?”

  “I suppose you could do what you like to me, but haven’t…”

  “No, please trust me; it’s your best option.” He released her.

  She leaned against a tree, regarding him warily. “You watched me on the beach? But how? I was very careful. It was dark.”

  “Night-vision glasses. I saw a bag down there and wondered if the owner would show herself.”

  “You knew it was a ‘her’ then? You men are all the same. What do you want from me?”

  “Only information.”

  “What information?” She stared at him suspiciously.

  “General Antarn suggests there’s another world over the sea. We know we’re from a dark universe, one which is all but destroyed. We thought that by blasting our way through the portal to this one, we’d find that better place. This island is hopefully not all there is. We need much more space than this.” The man sounded genuinely concerned. “Tell me, is there anything else out there?”

  “So, you’re saying that you’re refugees from Hell?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “I lived there.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’re the force that exterminated my parents and my home?”

  “That battle was regretful. We were being controlled by a mad bastard who wanted to destroy everything. He’s gone now, and everything makes more sense… We’re not as bad as you think.”

  “And this Antarn; are you aware he tried to rape me, and chased me half-way across the country? I thought he was dead.”

  “There was someone of that name killed in the battle. We thought he was defending your town. He died bravely.”

  “But your general?”

  “The same name yes. It’s possible he’s your Antarn’s alter-ego from another universe, but he’s a different person. He’s still a sadistic bully though, and will take delight in torturing you, if we can’t think of something.”

  “I can hide if you’ll let me go.” Caryl’s hope was rising.

  “They’ll find you. We have all sorts of machines for the location of hidden people or places.” He paused. “A thought…”

  “What?”

  “Do you really know the way to the mainland?”

  “I could find it.”

  “What about you being our guide? I could introduce you that way. There’s a chance that Antarn might not want you for himself if you are useful and under my protection.”

  She shrugged, “if I have no choice. Do you really think you can protect me? Who are you, anyway? What’s your name?”

  “Commander Gough at your service.” The man in the darkness bowed.

  “Very pleased to meet you.” She recognised the name. There had been a man, possibly the same one, in her past, in a different universe, who had originally freed her from the beast, Antarn. Perhaps this one could save her once more. But then again, what choice did she have? None. She would show them the way to the mainland, and then try to get away in the confusion when they met the local defence forces. At least she would not have to think of a more complicated plan now, and she would find her man again, she was sure.

  * * *

  “So who might this be, Commander?” Antarn stared at Caryl as she stood before his tent.

  “It seems she’s the sole occupant of the island.” Gough answered for her.

  “She looks familiar.”

  “She’s agreed to show us the way to the mainland and provide local knowledge.”

  “She still looks familiar.”

  “There used to be lots of small girls with dark hair in our universe, sir.”

  “Where have I seen her before?”

  “She’s agreed to stay with me sir.”

  “Has she now? And suppose I want her for myself as your commanding officer?”

  Caryl stepped forward. “Then I will not show you the way. You’ll never find it, and never get the spoils waiting for you on the other side.” She took Gough’s hand. “The Commander said he would look after me.” She began to shake as she heard the click of the safety catch being released on Gough’s gun. She had unwittingly forced a confrontation.

  Antarn noticed the movement but kept his hands on the table in front of him. “You would kill me, Commander?”

  Gough clicked his heels and stood to attention. “Yes sir, it would be my duty, sir. By military law, if you try to take my woman, I am within my rights to kill you.”

  “And you would then take charge of the army?”

  “Yes sir. Again I would claim the ‘right of appropriation’, which would entitle me to assume control.”

  “I see; and all over a woman?”

  “Not any woman, but this woman, sir; I found her, she is mine by circumstance as per military regulations.”

  “And if I kill you?”

  “I would kill you all, General.” Caryl lifted he
r shirt to reveal the belt of explosives that Gough had provided at her request. “I would rather die than let you take me.”

  “And I though you only had a homely waist,” Antarn leered, showing stained yellow teeth. “I wouldn’t have fancied you anyway if I thought you had one of those nasty hourglass figures. Stand down, Commander. You have my full permission to do what you will with the wench, providing you keep her in one piece long enough to get us across the water. What you do with her then is up to you. And you, er, girl…”

  “Caryl Six.”

  “Caryl Six, sir, if you don’t mind. You are with my army now and you will treat your superiors with respect. Don’t think you can get away as merely a passenger on this mission. If you want food you can help us cook it.”

  “Yes, sir, and I expect the laundry detail can do with an extra body.” Gough cut in, greatly relieved that his commander had not challenged him any further.

  “Do we have a laundry detail?” Antarn looked puzzled.

  “The last team was killed in that attack on the village.”

  “Laundry was the last thing on my mind.”

  “Not in mine sir; I have to share a tent.”

  “Then she can be in charge of the laundry.”

  “And I believe the rank for that post would be ‘corporal’ sir.” Gough picked up on the opportunity.

  “Very amusing, but you are correct again, Commander. I should really transfer you directly on my staff to make sure the precise protocols are followed. We can’t have any sloppiness creeping in because we are the remnants of the military. Corporal Six.”

  “Sir?” Caryl was desperate to get away from the man; he made her flesh creep.

  “Now that you have a rank, don’t forget that it’s a court martial for you if you shag a superior officer.” He stared pointedly at Gough.

  The Commander’s expression never wavered. “Permission to show the Corporal to the stores, sir?”