Beyond the Shroud of the Universe

by Chris Kennedy

  An enormous cowtaur, bigger than any he had seen before, emerged from the smoke. It had to be an important one; it had a sash running across its upper half filled with shiny emblems. It also carried a bigger gun than anything even the cyborgs carried.

  Wolf sighted on the creature’s head and pulled the trigger. A weak bolt fired; the end of the battery. The laser bolt only succeeded in singing the Shaitan’s fur, and the cowtaur roared. Its weapon came down to point at Wolf as he struggled feverishly to change out the battery; Wolf knew he didn’t have enough time.

  Wolf was close enough to see the creature’s claw start to tighten on the firing mechanism and gathered himself to dive out of the way.

  The creature exploded as Night’s first antimatter round struck it in its bovine chest, painting the passageway with its purple blood. Night landed in front of Wolf and continued firing his trident into the mass of aliens until nothing in the corridor moved.

  Wolf slammed in the new battery and searched for additional targets, but all that remained were pieces of aliens; there wasn’t a whole one visible. “Glad you could join us,” he commed. “Thanks.”

  “I couldn’t let you guys have all the fun,” Night replied. “Now let’s get the hell out of here before this damn ship explodes.”

  “Yes sir!”

  Cargo Bay, Shuttle 02, Anti-HD 69830 System, November 9, 2021

  “We’re all aboard,” Calvin said as the suit identifying itself as Night’s came up the cargo ramp. He caught a look at the occupant’s face, and it didn’t look anything like Night. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he added, deciding to worry about it later. He toggled the switch to bring the ramp up.

  “Roger, that,” the shuttle’s WSO replied. “Detaching now!”

  Calvin saw the ship begin moving before the ramp finished closing. He also got a glimpse of the cowtaurs approaching from beyond the curvature of the ship’s skin.

  “Hurry,” Calvin urged. “If you’ve got stealth, now would be a good time for it, too.”

  “I just stealthed us,” Mays said. “I don’t know what it is they’re shooting, but we’ve got a three inch hole through the wing. It’s a good thing that fuel tank was empty.”

  “Let me know when we’re clear so we can blow it,” Calvin said. “I don’t want to give them time to disarm the presents we left them.”

  “I don’t think that will be a prob—” Lieutenant O’Leary began.

  “Holy shit!” the shuttle’s pilot, Lieutenant Miguel Carvalho exclaimed. “The ship! It just blew up! Did you guys do that, or did it self-destruct?”

  “As I was saying, I don’t think there will be a problem with them disarming our weapons,” Lieutenant O’Leary said. “Even if the other ship didn’t self-destruct, I made the charges tamper proof. Either way, I don’t think we’ll be seeing that ship again.”

  “In that case,” Calvin commed. “Take us home, Mays. Let’s go back to the Gulf…assuming it’s still around.”

  “Hey, Skipper,” said Lieutenant O’Leary. “I’ve got a question.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Who the hell’s wearing Night’s suit?”

  Chapter Forty

  Bridge, TSS Vella Gulf, HD 69830 System, November 10, 2021

  “That’s the last of them,” the DSO said as the last Jotunn vessel hit the stargate. The departure of the Jotunn had been delayed while they recovered their survivors from the battle the day before.

  “Recall the fighters,” Captain Sheppard said. Although they had been rotating the pilots, all of them had greatly exceeded the rules for ‘mandatory’ crew rest. It was funny how regulations went out the window when you had enemies trying to kill you.

  “Sir, we are getting a call from Golirion,” the comms officer said. “The new Thor wishes to speak with you.”

  “On screen, please,” Captain Sheppard said.

  The screen illuminated with the visage of the former Captain Nightsong. “Thank you for your assistance fighting the Jotunn,” he said. “As you may have noticed, they are departing. It is now time for you to depart as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We are a private people,” Nightsong replied, “and your presence is not desired. Please leave.”

  Captain Sheppard looked incredulous. “What? You want us to leave? All of your fleet has been destroyed, and your battle station is wrecked. How are you going to defend your planet if the Jotunn or Shaitans come back?”

  “Truthfully, Terran, that is none of your business,” Nightsong said with a sneer.

  “What are you going to do?” Captain Sheppard asked. “Just give Golirion to the Jotunn when they come back?”

  “No,” Calvin said, finally understanding. “He’s not giving Golirion to the Jotunn; he intends to join with the Shaitans. He would no more join up with the Jotunn than we would join up with the Ssselipsssiss. They are the Aesir’s traditional enemies. He would, however, use the Jotunn to get to where he could meet up with the Shaitans, who are the rulers of the Jinn Universe. He must have somehow made their acquaintance in the other universe while he was pretending to be Wayland, and he has been working to find them in this one. The Shaitan home world must be in the Jinn Universe, somewhere up the Jotunn chain of worlds.”

  A shadow past across Nightsong’s face, but then he recovered his serene gaze. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said. “Our world just lost most of its rulers, and I have stepped up to lead it through this time of troubles. We do not desire any foreign entanglements while we sort this out, so I must once again ask you to leave our system.”

  “We can’t leave him in charge,” Calvin commed to Captain Sheppard and Lieutenant O’Leary. “Not if he intends to turn over Golirion to the Shaitans.”

  “I’ve got this,” Lieutenant O’Leary said. He stepped forward from the back of the bridge where he had been standing. “What if we don’t leave?” he asked. “Are you going to come make us, you overgrown fairy? All of your itty bitty ships are all busted up. I guess you’ll have to use your pretty little courier ship, won’t you? Oh, I forgot. All that does is run away from fights.”

  Captain Sheppard turned his head to look at Lieutenant O’Leary and frowned at him. “That is not how we conduct diplomatic relations,” he said over the comm channel.

  “I know, sir,” O’Leary replied. “Trust me.”

  “Just a little.”

  “You will leave Aesir space immediately!” Nightsong screamed.

  Lieutenant O’Leary smiled at the screen. “Uh oh, looks like I made Santa’s little helper angry. Are you all mad at me now?”

  “I will ensure you die a slow death for your insolence!”

  “You, and whose army, bark breath?”

  “I don’t need an army; I will kill you myself!”

  “Are you challenging me to a duel?”

  “Yes! I challenge you to a duel!” Nightsong shouted.

  “Wonderful,” Lieutenant O’Leary said with a smile. “I accept.”

  Captain Sheppard terminated the communications link. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “Well, sir,” Lieutenant O’Leary said, “Lieutenant Commander Hobbs said we couldn’t leave him in charge, which meant that either (1), we couldn’t leave, or (2), he couldn’t stay in charge. Me, I want to go back home, so somebody has to kill the little rat bastard. I chased him across two universes, all the while swearing I would kill him; this was finally my chance.”

  “You do know he is proficient as both a fire and a life Eco Warrior,” Calvin said. “He may know the other areas too. How do you intend to beat him if you can’t get close to him?”

  Lieutenant O’Leary grinned. “That’s why it was important to piss him off. I wanted him to challenge me to the duel. That way, I get to choose the weapons. If I had challenged him, he would have gotten the choice, and I’m sure he would have picked something that would have put me at an even bigger disadvantage. Hell, he might even have chosen to have no weapons at all. Couldn’t
have that, sir. I wanted the choice of weapons…and I’ll make it count.”

  Reeve Hall, Golirion, HD 69830, November 11, 2021

  “Kind of feels like déjà vu, eh sir?” Night asked as the Terrans walked into Reeve Hall.

  “Yeah,” Calvin replied. “I kind of hoped to never see this place again. Especially under these circumstances.”

  “So this is Reeve Hall?” Lieutenant O’Leary asked, looking around. “What a dump.” The underground Reeve Hall was a giant horseshoe-shaped room with a packed dirt floor. Two rows of elevated seating rose up on both sides and met at the opposite end of the chamber, over 80 feet away. The seating was terraced, with an eight-foot wall surrounding the floor of the horseshoe.

  “Take a good look, Terran,” Nightsong said in greeting as he walked up behind them. “It is the last thing you’ll ever see.”

  “Don’t you worry, little elf,” Lieutenant O’Leary said. “I’ll try not to make this hurt too much.”

  “Should you find yourself lucky enough to hit me,” Nightsong said, “it will not matter. I have lived thousands of your years. I have forgotten ways of killing that you don’t even know exist. And as far as hurting me…” He pulled out a knife and drew it across his arm. A few drops of blood welled up, but then the sides of the cut closed, and the wound healed as if it had never occurred. “There isn’t anything you can do to hurt me, which I can’t undo.” He put the knife away. “Now, if you would just give me my weapon, I’ll kill you quickly so all of you can leave. Where is it?”

  “Here they are,” Night said. He carried a large box in each hand. Setting them down on the dirt floor, he opened them up with a flourish. Two items rested in each case.

  “What is this?” Nightsong asked, suspicion tinging his voice for the first time.

  “It is a Sturmgewehr 44 assault rifle,” Lieutenant O’Leary said. “The Germans used it in World War II.” He picked up one of the rifles and snapped in a magazine, pocketing the other two. He chambered a round and then slung it over his shoulder.

  Nightsong pointed to the barrel, which bent in a 45 degree angle and had a periscope attached. “They really had guns that looked like that?”

  “Yes, they did,” Lieutenant O’Leary said. “That’s called a krummlauf. It’s a bent barrel attachment used for shooting around corners.” He picked up the other item. “And this is a machete. Even overgrown pixies like you can probably figure out a machete is just a big knife.”

  “Take your position,” Nightsong said with a glare. “And prepare to die.”

  Lieutenant O’Leary walked to the other end of the arena while the rest of the Terrans were led away.

  “Got any last words, Terran?” Nightsong asked

  “Yeah, ya got any cookies, you oversized fairy?”

  “Begin!” called the judge.

  “Whenever you’re ready, barbarian,” Nightsong said.

  “Oh, so we’re name-calling now, are we?” Lieutenant O’Leary asked. He held up his rifle so the angled barrel pointed in the direction of the Aesir, sighted through the periscope and fired. The bullet struck Nightsong in the shoulder, and he dropped his rifle as he was knocked back.

  “Gods!” cried Nightsong. “I was willing to kill you quickly, but now you’re dead!” The wound started closing as his nanobots went to work repairing the damage.

  “You know, you’re not very good at the whole name-calling thing, tree fucker.” He fired several more shots, one of them striking Nightsong in the arm and another in the leg.

  Nightsong screamed in pain and limped to where his rifle lay on the ground. He picked it up and yanked the trigger back. The rifle was set on full automatic and seven rounds fired, spraying around the arena. Aesir politicians dove for the floor as ricochets buzzed around the chamber.

  As the eighth bullet fired, the barrel shattered, with pieces exploding outward like a grenade. Shrapnel flew into the Aesir’s face, blinding him. He fell backward, dropping the rifle again.

  Lieutenant O’Leary took advantage, charging across the surface of the arena.

  Knowing he had to do something, Nightsong raised his hand and a stream of flame blasted forth. O’Leary dove to the side, protecting the rifle by taking the fall on his side. Nightsong manage to open an eye in time to see O’Leary come to a kneeling position and fire.

  Nightsong dove out of the way as five bullets ripped through where he had just been.

  Still unable to see in one eye, Nightsong threw another gout of flame in O’Leary’s direction as his nanobots worked to clear his vision. A shard of metal worked its way free of his left eye and fell away.

  O’Leary threw himself to the side and rolled into a prone position. He fired once, hitting Nightsong in the center of his chest. Nightsong went down, and O’Leary emptied the rest of the magazine into the writhing Aesir.

  Nightsong stopped moving, and O’Leary discarded the rifle. Jumping up, he drew his machete and charged. As he got to his opponent, Nightsong kicked out, knocking O’Leary’s legs out from under him. O’Leary hit hard, and the machete went flying. He lay stunned, his breath driven from him. Before he could move, the Aesir dove on top of him, and the two combatants began rolling around on the floor, each looking for advantage.

  Nightsong rolled on top of O’Leary, choking him with both hands. O’Leary kicked off with one foot and drove a palm up into the Aesir’s chin, breaking the hold. Nightsong brought one hand back down to choke O’Leary again, while the other hand drew his machete. O’Leary could feel his strength waning as he reached up and grabbed Nightsong’s wrist. Balling his other hand into a fist, he punched the Aesir in the throat.

  Nightsong’s eyes bulged, and he fell backward off O’Leary, dropping the machete. The Terran rolled and pushed himself up. Grabbing the machete from where it had fallen, O’Leary turned and stabbed, striking Calvin in the chest.

  O’Leary let go of the machete, his mouth dropping open. “I’m sorry—” was all he was able to say as his commanding officer dropped to his knees, gasping his final breaths.

  Calvin took the machete handle in both hands and slowly pulled it out. “That hurt,” he said. “Good thing you’re so damn gullible.” Calvin slashed out at O’Leary with the machete, his features returning to those of Nightsong.

  Dumbstruck, O’Leary was slow to move, and the Aesir slashed him across the leg, drawing blood. O’Leary fell backward to avoid the backswing of the machete, landing on top of the remains of the Aesir’s rifle. As Nightsong dove after him, O’Leary held it up and drove the shattered barrel into Nightsong’s stomach. O’Leary pulled it out to stab the Aesir again, and Nightsong fell on top of him, the rifle knocked to the side.

  The two opponents rolled back and forth on the ground again, Nightsong changing once more; this time, his features changed to those of O’Leary, and Calvin quickly lost track of which one was the real O’Leary.

  “Foul!” the judge yelled. “The match is forfeit for failing to retain your identity.”

  Neither man nor Aesir stopped the fight; both continued punching, kicking and clawing each other as they rolled back and forth. Calvin had no idea who was winning, or who he should be pulling for.

  “Stop the match!” the judge yelled. “Somebody stop the match!”

  Not seeing anyone else taking action, Calvin vaulted the wall separating him from the arena floor and drew his laser pistol as he ran to the struggling combatants. As he arrived, one of the O’Learys finally got an advantage, getting the other one in a chokehold from behind, his arm wrapped around the throat of the other.

  “Shoot him,” he gasped. “I’m the real O’Leary, and he’s the imposter.”

  “Not…true,” the O’Leary being choked replied. Calvin looked at both men and saw they were identical. The men looked the same, the wounds were the same, hell, even the blood splatters on their clothes looked the same.

  Calvin aimed his laser pistol at the O’Leary being choked. “Not me, sir…other one…is Nightsong.” It sounded like O’Leary’s voice, Ca
lvin realized, although somewhat strangled. He turned the pistol on the other O’Leary.

  “Don’t shoot me, sir,” the second O’Leary said, also in O’Leary’s voice. “He’s the rat bastard we chased across two universes.”

  “He’s lying…” the O’Leary being choked said. “I’m…real…O’Leary.”

  “You’re the real O’Leary?” Calvin asked the one doing the choking.

  “Indeed,” he replied. “Shoot him, so we can get the hell out of here.”

  Calvin aimed at the O’Leary being choked, but then switched to the other and fired. The O’Leary being choked rolled free, and Calvin fired several more times into both the head and where Nightsong had said his heart was. The edges of the wounds grew closer together, but then the body stilled, and the features returned to those of Nightsong.

  “Good…choice,” O’Leary said, massaging his throat.

  “Thanks,” Calvin said, looking at the body. “I always hated how he said ‘indeed’ all the time.” He saw O’Leary struggling to get up and motioned for him to lay back. “Medic!” he called, looking up.

  Calvin knelt down and applied pressure to staunch the blood flowing from Lieutenant O’Leary’s leg. There was a lot of blood. “Where did you come up with the rifles?”

  “We used to shoot them…all the time… with the newbies. Losers had to…buy beers. Didn’t figure…would have ever seen one before.” Lieutenant O’Leary chuckled then coughed weakly. “They’re fun, but they have a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The barrels…too much stress…usually break…after 160…shots.”

  “How many had his fired when you gave it to him?”