Forbidden World

by Jeremy Michelson

  An oh so familiar golden figure. A very shapely female figure that would have gotten his motor going. If his libido hadn’t already fled in terror days ago.

  Liz.

  Still in her armor, but absolutely still. Laying on her back on the altar, golden hands folded over her stomach.

  Hopefully, she wasn't dead.

  If she was, then when Chris found his way here–and he would, somehow–then it was really likely some blame would be directed at good ol’ T&T.

  This was becoming quite the clusterfuck.

  “Release me you filthy demons!” Kawl shouted.

  The metal sea cucumbers mostly ignored the Don. Which only seemed to piss the dude off even more.

  The Don turned from the door and put his hands on his flabby, blue-skinned hips.

  T&T found himself knowing more about Don anatomy than he ever wanted to know. Fun facts such as: Don males had two penises.

  Because…one wasn’t enough to satisfy their women?

  It was a question he didn’t want to ponder deeply.

  He definitely wasn’t planning on getting it on with any Don chicks. Little too much pressure there for T&T Jr. Plus, maybe their woman had teeth down there. Who knew? Best not to take the chance.

  This space thing was really getting to be a big-time drag.

  At least the murder worm thing hadn’t cut him out of his environmental suit this time. Small points for dignity that he wasn’t flapping around naked like Captain Kawl.

  The Don dude was slapping his chest now. There was a black triangle with the points cut off on his (hairless) chest right below his throat. Kawl kept hitting it.

  T&T had seen pictures of the one they captured from the one chick back on Earth. Well, recovered from space since good ol’ Liz sent it into orbit after she ripped it off the chick. The object looked just like Kawl’s.

  The Don armor.

  Apparently, he was trying to activate it and was having absolutely no luck.

  Kawl gave up for a moment to shake his fists at the (yes, golden) ceiling.

  "You shall pay for your violations!" He shouted, "Emperor HeJov will scorch this planet down to its core! There will be nothing left but fire! Your pitiful defeat will be an example to the lesser races!"

  Kawl had a bit of a paunch hanging out over his two penises. Dude looked pretty out of shape, actually. Even his butt looked saggy.

  T&T sighed. Dude was like pretty much every upper muckity muck military officer ever. All bluster and fury…right before running back to his quarters to get filthy drunk.

  Glue some tentacles to his head and paint him blue and Uncle Mattany could pass for a Don general.

  Kawl gave up shaking his fists and spitting at the ceiling. He brought his tentacled head down and scanned the room. His orangey-yellow eyes fixed on T&T.

  Uh oh.

  Kawl stalked over to him. Giving wide berth to the altar with the (hopefully not dead) form of Liz on it. The two metal sea cucumbers scurried over from whatever they'd been doing by the big (golden) throne at the far end of the room.

  Oh, great, now he had to deal with them, too.

  “Buttocks!” The first cucumber shouted in its high, squeaky voice.

  “Boobies!” The other one shouted.

  They jumped up and down on their stubby legs. The five articulated blades at their other end clashed and clanged. The red eye at the center of the blades glowed bright.

  Really regretting teaching them any words.

  Really, truly.

  Kawl tried to ignore them. Though he scampered aside when one of the cucumbers ran in front of him. The Don came to stand in front of him. Hands on blue hips again. A wave of rancid meat stench washed over T&T. Dude, Dons stunk so bad. What did they smell like to each other? Was it like: Hey, baby you smell so fine tonight?

  What was it like when a Don smelled bad to another Don? Dude, gross. You stink like flowers and puppy kisses. Go take a shower.

  T&T concentrated on the (golden) floor at his feet. Not really wanted to contemplate a faceful of Don junk. This mission had gone so far sideways that it had gone hurtling off the cliff into bonkers-world.

  If, by some stupid miracle, he survived all this and got back to Earth…he was going to immediately retire. He’d go become a gentleman farmer. Growing vast quantities of marijuana. And consuming most of it himself. He was going to become the most stoned person ever to walk planet Earth.

  Maybe that would kill all these memories that were going to come bubbling up and turning him into a gibbering mess if he thought about them too much.

  “Earth creature,” Kawl said, “You must communicate with these creatures and tell them to release me. And return my armor to a working state.”

  T&T gave the idiot a baleful look.

  “Right. Let’s give that a try, shall we?” He said.

  He turned to the nearest metal sea cucumber who stood a few feet away on its stubby legs. The thing quivered and wiggled its rear back and forth.

  “So, dude wants his armor back and then he wants an all expenses paid trip back home,” he said, “And he wants it chop chop. Got it? So go forth and obey, you little murder worms you.”

  “Horny!” the metal cucumber said.

  “Hot ass!” said the other.

  It pained him to admit, but he was starting to question some of his life choices. Really, what kind of sexist pig went around teaching alien murder robots that kind of filthy language? Honestly–and his face warmed to think this–wasn’t this kind of stuff just juvenile? Did professionals act this way?

  Was he really a professional?

  Or was he just a spoiled pain in the ass?

  “I do not understand the meaning of their responses,” Kawl said.

  T&T ran his hands over his face. There were a few days of patchy stubble on his cheeks and chin. One time he tried to grow a goatee, but his face just couldn't manage it.

  Maybe his face needed to grow up, too.

  He looked up and locked eyes with Kawl. Pointedly not looking at the ridiculous two-pronged alien reproductive apparatus hanging in front of him.

  “Dude,” he said, “Do you think I would still be here if these things listened to me? This is hardly my idea of a fabulous vacation.”

  Kawl’s orangey-yellow eyes narrowed. The thick tentacles sprouting from his head quivered. He bared his pointed teeth.

  “Earth creature, my patience is not infinite,” he said, “Now do as I command.”

  T&T sighed. He picked up the half eaten nutrient bar from the floor beside him. He tore off a wretched hunk of the thing. It tasted like sawdust and motor oil. If he wasn’t so hungry…

  “Boogers!” one of the sea cucumbers shouted.

  “Testicles!” shouted the other.

  T&T groaned and leaned his head against the (golden) wall. Could this get any worse?

  A CRACK broke through the air. At the far side of the room, the doorway Captain Kawl had been beating on suddenly parted.

  Kawl spun around. Putting his saggy butt in T&T’s face. Which was better than the dude’s junk? Maybe?

  Not that it mattered, because everything just got worse.

  The big metal murder worm poured through the opening. Along with the winged thing and the two extra large metal sea cucumbers.

  And what did they bring with them?

  Why more Dons, of course. Because if a guy was stupid enough to ask how things could get worse, the universe took that as a challenge.

  He dropped his nutrient bar and squished up against the wall as much as he could. His heart pounded into overtime. His throat tightened, threatening to cut off his air supply.

  The two small metal sea cucumbers jumped up and down on their stubby legs.

  “Holy shit!” Number one said.

  “Holy shit!” Number two said.

  Holy shit, indeed.

  The metal murder worm and its buddies deposited six very naked Dons into one corner of the room. The Dons shouted and cursed and tried to extricate thems
elves from each other.

  The murder worm and his buddies–except for the two little sea cucumbers–left just as quickly they arrived. The big (golden) door slammed shut behind them.

  Captain Kawl ran over to the newly arrived Dons.

  “Sergeant Kyn!” He shouted, “What happened!”

  One of the six new Don stood up and gave Kawl what looked like a sketchy salute. Or maybe he was flipping the good captain off. Hard to tell without some context.

  The other Dons were getting to their feet, too. All of these new Don were big, burly specimens. Security crew, no doubt.

  “Captain Tejoh!” the big sergeant dude said, “We were ambushed. Commander Zek was with us.”

  The captain staggered back a step. “What! Why wasn’t he with The Hojan’s Murder? Where is he now?”

  The big sergeant shook his head, making his tentacles clap against each other.

  “I thought one of the creatures got him,” he said, “He may be dead.”

  Kawl growled and pulled at the tentacles on his head.

  “What were you doing on the surface!” Kawl shouted.

  “Trying to rescue you, sir,” Kyn replied.

  The two of them went back and forth for a couple minutes of recriminations and accusations. Well, Kawl was recriminating and accusing. Sergeant Kyn was being polite. If a bit non-committal.

  These Don freaks were just messed up. At least they were paying attention to each other and not him. He scooped the nutrient bar back off the floor and brought the rancid thing up to his mouth.

  As one, all seven Don turned his way.

  Aw, crap.

  Fifty-One

  Chris

  The oversized door of the Ministry of Records closed silently behind me. Leaving me in musty darkness. Even with my enhanced night vision still on, I couldn't see a thing. I took a slow breath, inhaling a scent that felt ancient and papery–with a hint of spices. Like a faded memory of my grandmother's–on my mom's side–book-filled house after she baked pumpkin pie.

  I had a sense of an immense room in front of me. I took a couple tentative steps forward. The fall of my shoes on the stone floor echoed and echoed.

  Which gave me another idea.

  Echolocation.

  I concentrated on my sensory apparatus, imagining a dolphin like sound scanning system.

  I clapped my hands. Suddenly I saw the room in grainy, white lines. Like a rough sketch in chalk on black velvet.

  The room was huge and circular with a central column that went all the way to the domed ceiling.

  The room started to fade. I clapped my hands again. The lines brightened once more.

  I moved toward the nearest wall. In my echolocation scanning, they had seemed featureless. I reached out and ran my fingers over the wall. It was smooth, with horizontal breaks every two feet or so.

  The echolocation was only going to get me so far.

  I turned it off and told my body to give me some lights. A moment later, points of light popped out all over my skin. Giving the air around me a soft, blueish-white glow. I held my glowing hands up to the wall and was rewarded with a fresh view.

  The wall was actually glass–or some clear material. It curved along the length of the wall. But behind the glass were what looked like books. Bound volumes of varying heights, thicknesses and colors.

  An actual, literal library.

  I looked up and down. The entire wall, going all the way around the huge room was shelves and shelves and shelves of books. Kept under glass.

  Probably valuable ancient texts that the Dendon people kept more for display than anything else.

  As fascinating as they were, books weren't what I had come here for. I didn't have time to go searching for the meaning of how the Dendon people became the Dendon people. My buddy was slowly telling me the story. Though, I'm pretty sure he'd skipped over some important parts. Right, buddy?

  Silence.

  Still not talking, eh? Well, screw you, too.

  I moved away from the shelves and made my way to the center column. With my weak illumination, I found it seemed to be a solid column of metal, etched with more scenes of Dendon life or history. To a Dendon citizen, I’m sure the images would have been important and meaningful. Probably exciting histories of exciting events.

  All I got from it was frustration.

  All that knowledge and history was already part of me. Perhaps locked up for the moment, but still there. If I needed it bad enough.

  What I didn’t have were physical artifacts. Things that might help me with that metal murder worm that seemed to be the key to this ongoing nightmare I was experiencing.

  I made my way around the column. And found what I was looking for.

  A simple circle. At about the height a normal sized Dendon might put his or her hand.

  I pressed my palm to the circle and pushed some energy into it.

  A hiss of musty, metallic air. Then a section of the curving metal wall swung aside. Inside was a spiral staircase. The treads of the stairs seemed to be some clear crystal material, revolving around a thick central post of gold.

  I took a hesitant step inside. The inside of the wall was a bright coppery color, etched with more scenes of Dendon life.

  Except the first image that greeted me was familiar.

  It showed two Dendon children, crouched beside a woven basket. Their heads were turned toward something off in the distance.

  A tall, broad-shouldered and barefoot Dendon carrying a staff.

  It seemed like I had found the right place.

  Fifty-Two

  Chris

  This is the sacred story of our people.

  The Dendon’s voice in my head was clearer than I had ever heard it. I paused, halfway through the doorway, into the shiny coppery column that held the spiraling crystal staircase I’d just discovered. The air inside was musty with a tang of copper and spice.

  My eyes roved over the images at the base of the stairs. Images of Koba and his friend Ivfa and the King who came out of the Great Southern Desert.

  Emotion welled up within me.

  Sorrow and grief.

  Pride and anger.

  Emotions that weren’t mine.

  I fought the feelings. Pushing them back.

  “You don’t get to manipulate me anymore,” I told the Dendon, “We do this honestly from now on. No more movies in my head.”

  To show you…to let you experience the story…that is the best way to make you ready.

  I stepped all the way into the hollow column and put my foot on the first of the clear crystal steps. I glanced at the next image on the way up. Koba and Ivfa, still children, standing on either side of The King as they walked away from the village of Galveen. Starting their quest to save a dying world.

  At least that’s what The King told them.

  “I’m not all that interested in becoming a part of the story of Dendon,” I told my Dendon buddy, “Stories about this place all lead to an unhappy ending. Right?”

  The Dendon didn’t reply right away.

  I glanced upward. It was a long, long climb of stairs. The faint blueish-white light from my body cast a faint glow on the coppery walls and glittered on the crystal stairs. But it didn't go very far.

  It is important that you understand Dendon’s story.

  “No, buddy,” I said, “It’s more important that I don’t repeat Dendon’s story, don’t you think?”

  Which got me another long silence from the Dendon. I filled the time by making my way up the stairs. Around and around the central, golden column. The crystal steps made a faint musical ringing with every tap of my foot.

  It was a pleasant sound.

  As I went higher, the air got colder. I shivered and pushed my shield out a little farther to give my body a little more space from chill air.

  I glanced at the images etched in the coppery walls. More scenes of Koba, Ivfa, and the King. Koba and Ivfa slowly growing up the higher I went.

  What struck me as
I watched the images as they passed me by was the sanitized, paternalistic nature of them. Everyone looked noble and earnest. Like they knew they were doing the right thing. Their eyes shone with purpose and determination.

  Which wasn’t how it had been at all, was it, buddy?

  I felt another stir of emotions that weren’t mine. Frustration. Muted anger.

  These images are meant to inspire.

  “Inspire who, buddy?” I asked, “Little Dendon children? Pliable adults? Your society revolved around a monarch. But not just a monarch, right?”

  I pointed at a particularly worshipful image of The King. Him with his arms raised to the clouds. Beams of sunlight coming through the clouds put a glowing aura around him. Koba and Ivfa were on their knees on either side of him, their hands raised to him.

  “Your King was a God King,” I said, “Though his powers were more technological than theological, right?”

  The primitive people of Dendon would not understand the technology of an advanced age. The King’s powers may have been exaggerated.

  “Right. And how many people knew about the time machine?”

  Another long silence. I passed by the light from God image of The King and his two poor servants. I kept trudging up the clear, crystal steps. The higher I got, the more violent the images got.

  Images of Koba and Ivfa in the midst of battle.

  Often with a smaller image of The King off in the distance. Looking on approvingly.

  The King talked peace out of one side of his mouth. And war out of the other.

  A King does what he must to protect his realm.

  “Uh huh. And if you substitute protect with murder the crap out of your enemies, you get a more accurate version of what happened.”

  The King made the best decisions he could for the time.

  "Time…yeah, what about that time machine?" I said, "Was it common knowledge that it existed? Or was more like a need to know basis?"

  A temporal travel device would have been highly classified if it existed.

  “Which means the only folks who knew about it were The King and whomever of his techno-minions invented it originally, right?”

  The Dendon didn’t answer. I was getting waves of muted anger. Most of it was from him. But I might have had some muted waves of anger of my own.