By Other Means (Defending The Future)

by James Chambers

  And that was just his opening salvo.

  Over the four days after he had first arrived on the decks of the Roosevelt, the Monkey King had filled the air with helium so he could laugh at everyone’s voices, transformed much of the Roosevelt’s electrical wiring into gelatin, and even fired the ship’s devastatingly powerful light-wave motion gun several times simply to hear the clicking noises the final securing locks made as they bolted the weapon into position.

  “I’m tellin’ ya, Noodles,” Rocky growled, picking himself up from the deck after having slipped on yet another loose banana peel, “I’m gettin’ goddamned sick of this deity of yours.”

  “Mine,” snapped the machinist indigently. “Do not blame that knuckle- dragging fleabag on me. His being on board was not my idea.”

  “I hate to argue with you, Li,” Mac Michaels interrupted, “but you might be wrong about that.” As Noodles turned to glare at the science officer, Michaels raised his hands, saying;

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you wanted him here. But if I’ve doped things out correctly, something was going to be here, and it was you that gave it form.”

  “That is an interesting statement, officer.” As the sailors turned, they found Ambassador Thortom’tonmas standing behind them. “Please elaborate.”

  “Well, sir, the captain had asked me to figure out where our intruder had come from. I suspected he wasn’t the actual Monkey King because, as overwhelmingly powerful as his abilities supposedly are, they aren’t the ones Machinist Kon here described to us at dinner the other night.” As those listening nodded, Michaels added;

  “Since that moment, however, immediately preceded the intruder’s arrival, I brought up the galley cameras and studied it. Seemed too much of a coincidence to not be connected.” As the heads all around him continued to nod, the science officer, clearly enjoying the spotlight, told the growing assembly;

  “As I studied that moment when the Monkey King story was told, I noted one sailor at the table I didn’t recognize. Not hard in a crew of ten thousand, but there was something in the way he was listening to Noodles talk that made me suspicious. So, I asked the computer to find a match among the crew and it couldn’t.”

  “You mean...” said Rocky, only to then pause, scowl, then add, “okay, so what’dya mean?”

  “I set the camera links to observation. First I had them follow him after dinner. Sure enough, right after he left the galley he found a private corner and transformed into the Monkey King.” As the crowd made various noises of surprise, Michaels continued, telling them;

  “Just wait. It gets better. I then turned the link to pre-trace the guy, to see where he came from. The cameras retraced his steps back to the moment when the storm ended. And, to make a long story short, ‘he’ isn’t a ‘he’ at all.”

  “So then, like what the hell is he?” Thorner asked, two dozen other wide-eyed listeners letting it be known they were as interested as the technician.

  “‘He,’ for lack of a better pronoun, is a ball of energy that—immediately following that nebula storm we barely survived—passed through a bulkhead, floated to the ceiling, observed those of us walking by for a while, and then just...congealed into a non-descript human guy.”

  “So,” Harris asked, “what do we do now?”

  “Now,” came the voice of Intelligence Officer DiVico, “we get back to our duties.”

  Snapping his fingers, the security chief signaled two of his men to come forward, commanding them to escort the Danerian ambassador to his quarters, citing safety issues, “what with an unknown life form roaming the ship, and all.” After that he suggested everyone else return to their duties while he hurried Michaels and Noodles off to see the captain. Forced to travel at a slower speed than he would have preferred thanks to all the banana peels still littering the halls, once in Valance’s quarters, DiVico reported on all that had happened. After the intelligence officer had finished, the captain asked;

  “So, Thortom’tonmas knows what we know about Cheetah?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Michaels responded, immediately accepting full responsibility. “I was telling some of the fellows, and the ambassador happened to walk by, and...”

  “I know,” sighed Valance. “I gave very strict orders that he be shown every courtesy.”

  “Still, we need to do some damage control, sir,” DiVico said. “Perhaps it would be best if you outlined what your plans are for dealing with the intruder, so I know how you’d like me to move against it.”

  “Oh my God.” Valance, Michaels, and DiVico all turned at the sound of Noodles’ voice. “Shiu Yin Hong, whatever it is...it came from this part of space, where no ship has survived before. It came aboard the ship, it wanted to know what we thought God looked like, and it assumed the first version it heard about.”

  “We did pick it up in the heart of the galaxy,” Michaels added. “The first ship to ever penetrate this area and make it back out in one piece.”

  “Maybe...” DiVico suggested, his voice an inch away from breaking, “maybe we were the first to make it to God’s doormat, and...and now he’s curious to survey his handiwork.”

  “Meaning,” the captain added, “I thought I had my hands full with just the Monkey King, and now it seems like we might be playing host to the burning bush.”

  The four navy men stared at each other for a moment, none quite certain how to proceed. Realizing that whether he knew what to do or not that it was still his job to do something, Valance snapped;

  “Well, nothing’s going to get done with us standing around like a flock of flamingos. Michaels, get to a scanner. Find that omnipotent furball and let me know where it is. DiVico, you track down Thortom’tonmas and keep him away from our intruder.”

  As the officers hurried to follow their orders, Noodles asked;

  “What about me, sir?”

  “You?” The captain let the single word echo against the metal walls of his office, then said, “You’re going to teach me everything I need to know about the Monkey King before this mess gets any worse.”

  It took the sailors some twelve minutes to find both the Monkey King, or at least, that entity presenting itself as the legendary Shiu Yin Hong, and Ambassador Thortom’tonmas. Confirming the captain’s worst fears, however, they found the two of them in conference. Having put the clues of what had happened together while listening to Mac Michaels’ explanation in the hallway, the Danerian had immediately sent his staff in search of the banana-breathed intruder. By the time Valance was alerted and arrived at their location, Thortom’tonmas had enjoyed a full twenty minutes with the intruder.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the alien, ambassador.”

  “Oh, oh no,” replied the Danerian, a sinister smile twisting his lips, “no, I don’t believe I’ll be able to do that at all.”

  As DiVico’s security team stepped forward, Thortom’tonmas’ aides moved to cut them off. Before either side could escalate the situation beyond words, however, the intruder clapped its hands together. Instantly a dazzling and somewhat itching force wall appeared around everyone in the area, immobilizing them.

  “Ambassador,” Valance shouted, “I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with here!”

  “Oh, to the contrary, Captain, I understand my new friend, and what he wants, ever so exactly.”

  “And what the hell would that be?!”

  “Why, Mr. DiVico,” the ambassador answered. “The guise of Shiu Yin Hong was assumed by this most wondrous visitor to our galaxy because that god’s particular demeanor suited him...to a degree, anyway.”

  The Danerian’s tone sent a warning tingling through the nervous systems of all the humans present. Several of them had an idea as to what Thortom’tonmas was planning. None of them were pleased to discover they were correct.

  “Every race has its trickster deities. The cruel jokester, the prank player, and worse. This Monkey King is a charming fellow, but...how would one put it, one limited in
its scope. I’ve merely offered our friend...a greater opportunity to utilize its talents.”

  “Oh crap...”

  “Such language, Mr. Michaels,” the ambassador laughed. “But forgivable. All you humans offered was the tale of a mischievous godling who ultimately caused more trouble for himself than anyone else. I, on the other hand, have presented him with a more effective, hands-on, you might say, type of trouble-making supreme being—the Monkey King’s Danerian counterpart—Saboth, the Unforgiving.”

  And, in an instant, the minds of everyone present were filled with Thortom’tonmas’ description of the Danerian warrior god of laughter. Cruel and capricious, a monstrous blue giant possessed of a ravenous appetite for the cruelest of jests, the kind of being that would set a world ablaze merely so he might take a steam bath in its dying oceans.

  “Our visitor is curious as to what this galaxy which he helped set into motion now has to offer. I have given him a clear picture of the weakness of so many of its races, the soft, mewling wretchedness of the shivering members of your Confederation.”

  “You’re a lying sack of crap, Thortom’tonmas,” Michaels shouted. “Why should he believe you?”

  “Because,” the ambassador replied, “our delightful Shiu Yin Hong does not have to blindly place his trust in anything anyone says. Have you heard him converse? Utter a single syllable? No, you have not. He knows I speak the truth because he has gone into my mind. As he learned of the Monkey King from your man, Pasta—”

  “Noodles—”

  “Whatever...so did he learn of Saboth from me!”

  And for another moment, the room went silent. Still held in stasis by what appeared to be nothing more than a mote of the intruder’s power, the crewmen of the Roosevelt struggled to find a way out of what they could all see coming. If the ambassador could convince the cosmic force in simian form before them to adapt the shape of Saboth, to take on the mantle of the warrior deity of Daneria, there would be no stopping their conquest machine.

  The member races of the Earth-led Confederation of Planets were all well aware that the Danerian Empire was looking for an excuse to start poaching their worlds. Twice Danerian agents had tangled with the crew of the Roosevelt and both times had been handed defeats that astonished the odds brokers from Las Vegas to the Horseshoe Nebula. If suddenly they found themselves with the closest thing to God Himself leading their fleet, it was a safe bet they would no longer be worried about excuses.

  As all human eyes turned toward the form of the Monkey King, all of them despaired. Although each of the sailors was certainly worried over the thought of their own all-too-possible demises, that was not the major concern of any of them. Instead, as a group they were far more focused on the thought that they had failed in their duty, to protect Earth—to maintain the peace, not only for their own world, but for all the members of the Confederation.

  And, as the youngest naval officer to ever be awarded command of a dreadnought-class vessel allowed himself a moment of pure self-pity, he suddenly remembered what his mentor, Admiral Mach, had once said about every coin having two sides. Realizing that nothing was ever truly over until it was over, he shouted;

  “All right, so monkey boy here got the full picture of all the fun he could have carving up the galaxy from your mind. Well, that’s a two way street, pal.” As Thortom’tonmas complained, Valance turned as best he could against the force of the stasis field toward the intruder and said;

  “Okay, so you went to the core of that gasbag’s soul and read what Danerians really think of the rest of us. Yeah, it’s no secret they believe they should be running everything with everyone else either serving them dinner or being it. But they’re just one little race, and if you’re reading my mind you damn well know there aren’t very many that think much of them.”

  The ambassador bellowed in protest, but the captain ignored him, shouting to be heard over the Danerian;

  “Look, all I’m saying is, before you start carving up the galaxy for those wiener schnitzels, maybe you should read the fine print in someone else’s goddamned brain while you’re at it.”

  “Whose brain, exactly, did you have in mind?”

  And at that moment, even Thortom’tonmas went silent, for after his days of silence, the intruder had finally spoken. Valance studied his face, staring into the small, black eyes of the ape visage before him. In the seconds he had to make an answer, the captain knew he was being given one chance to counter the ambassador’s offer. He was also well aware of the fact that he could hide behind no subterfuge, that no matter whom he picked, the alien force before him would know and understand his reason for selecting as he did.

  “Hell,” Valance thought, to himself as well as to the grinning shape before him, “you’re probably reading my subconscious, too. You’ll know more about why I picked whoever I do than I will. Well so, with that thought in mind...

  “You want someone to represent the Confederation of Planets, okay—fine. I’ll give you one. Rockland Vespucci.”

  From the utter despair to be heard in the horrified groans of the other crew members present, Valance could tell not everyone was as confident in his choice as he was.

  “Captain, no disrespect intended, but like, you didn’t fall in the shower or nuthin’ recently, did ya?”

  Valance smiled, willing to concede that the gunnery officer’s question was not nearly as impertinent as it might have sounded to a board of inquiry. The captain had called for all to meet in the Roosevelt’s main galley. It was the largest open room with seating on the ship as well as the place where the entire affair had begun. In attendance were all the sailors the intruder had dealt with so far, as well as himself, Thortom’tonmas, and his aides.

  “No, Mr. Vespucci. I was asked by our new best friend here to pick one among us who might be able to give him a compelling reason not to manifest himself as the Danerian god of Whoop-Ass. Since he chose to appear to us as a devious trouble-making type, I decided to fight fire with fire.”

  “You ain’t never forgiven me for our inter-species mixer when we introduced the debutante daughters of all the Pan-Galactic League’s big wigs to the bears, cows, pigs, and chimps we was transporting to that Inter-Galaxy Zoo, have you, sir?”

  “Sailor,” the captain answered, “that’s exactly the kind of shenanigan that’s brought you here right now.” Sighing heavily, realizing his mother was right when she had told him his never-ending stunts were going to catch up to him someday, usually then whacking him across his noggin with a large wooden spoon, the gunnery officer unconsciously rubbed the back of his head, then said;

  “So, I gotta...what, exactly?”

  “Our visitor is actually a part of the force which started the universe,” Michaels said so matter-of-factly he made such utter outlandishness seem practically reasonable. “Apparently every once in a millennium it goes out into the galaxy to see what we’ve been up to, generally appearing as some sort of god.”

  “The Danerian ambassador,” Valance added, “put two and two together and offered it the option of becoming their god of destruction. I need you to convince it that while on its current good-will tour it remain the Monkey King.”

  With hundreds of eyes focusing upon him, Rocky felt time shatter, the resulting debris of chronal forward motion splintering further as it fell to the deck throughout the room. For an impossibly long moment he simply stared, eyes unblinking, seeing nothing. All about him, no one spoke—did not even seem to breathe.

  Within his brain, the gunnery officer floundered for a direction in which to move. Knowing the intruder could read his mind, his usual craftiness was useless. Whatever it was he might try to use to convince the god-presence to not enlist in the Danerian armed forces, it was going to have to be open and honest, free of subterfuge and, of course, utterly compelling. Convinced the captain really had never forgiven him, the gunnery officer put both hands on his belt, hitched it higher as if heading into high water, and then moved forward to where the Monkey King awaited.


  “Okay, well there, ummmm yeah, okay...” he said, his mind scrambling for more words to heap on his less-than-overwhelming opening, “so, you’re looking for a reason to not become this murder guy, right?”

  “No,” the intruder answered. “I am waiting to see if you can offer me something more attractive.”

  Rocky looked to his left, then his right, not knowing for what he was looking—not actually seeing anything. Rejecting a score of devious notions as they filtered through his mind, he finally turned both his palms outward, thrusting his hands in the Monkey King’s direction as he admitted;

  “Look, I got nuthin’, okay? Crimminey, you don’t even make sense to me. I mean, Christ on a crutch, why would you even consider killin’ billions of people and stuff for Daneria?”

  “See here—”

  Thortom’tonmas had begun to protest, but the Monkey King raised his hand in the ambassador’s direction causing the Danerian to go silent. The alien’s eyes bulged as it tried desperately to force words across its lips, but it had been rendered mute, the words “you had your turn” ringing not only within its mind, but that of everyone else present as well.

  “Why should I not?” Shiu Yin Hong asked. “Have you ever sat idle for centuries on end?”

  “But they want you to kill people.”

  “Is that not your job, Gunnery Officer Vespucci?”

  “No. No it is not.” His eyes narrowing to slits, Rocky slid his tallywacker forward on his head, then growled, “My job is defending people.” As the Monkey King allowed his own eyes to narrow, Rocky shouted;

  “You’re a god, you check our records. Read ol’ Thor-ton-a-mass’s mind, and you find me one instance where this ship, or any damn ship in our whole fleet ever fired the first shot. You show me a single time when we did anything except try and protect folks from the bad guys.” Smiling, Shiu Yin Hong told Rocky;

  “I know you have not. But, what is the point? Your lives are so brief, so overwhelmingly fleeting...if you save a million souls, and Thortom’tonmas’ people slay just as many, what does it matter?”