Intergalactic Terrorist (New Dimension Book 1)

by J. F. Monahan

  “You mean Professor Amirous?”

  “The one and only.”

  Charlie was shocked. He did not expect to feel like this. After all, he had no loyalties to the Lampan scientist. He didn’t really know the man. Yet for some reason he couldn’t face the fact that Greebol was going to hand him over. Even if it was to a bunch of priests.

  “You can’t,” he found himself saying. “He’s a living person… what you’ve done to him is wrong!”

  Greebol shook his head disappointedly. “I thought you understood Charlie. This is my line of work. It gives me the money I need to survive.”

  “But it’s wrong!”

  “There is a fine line between right and wrong my friend. Some could say that blowing up an entire city or having a hundred people squashed under a spaceship is wrong. It just depends on which way you look at it.”

  Anger boiled somewhere in the deep recess that was Charlie’s mind. Why did Greebol have to bring those things up? He felt guilty enough as it was.

  “You have to understand this from the True Believers point of view,” the bounty hunter continued. “To them, Professor Amirous is a sinner.”

  “What did he actually do to piss them off so much?” Charlie asked.

  “First he proved what happens to you when you die. That bright light… it is not a tunnel to the great beyond.”

  “What is it then?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “What is the bright light?”

  “Oh I do not know. I never paid any attention. It does not really affect me. In Gumthar society death is just death.”

  Charlie sighed. Professor Amirous could have actually proved what happens after death. He wanted to know what that was but was likely to never get the chance. Until of course he died, then he supposed he wouldn’t really care either way.

  “Then there was the whole purple thing,” the Gumthar carried on. “If Beff hates the colour so much then why would the gates to his afterlife be made of amethyst, a clearly purple stone?”

  “And,” Greebol continued, “the bones of Saint Intingus were found some years ago, although there was great dispute from the True Believers that they were actually his. Amirous proved, due to several fractures in the bones, that there was no way Intingus could have been the saint that they all claim him to be. More likely he was some sort of bandit. In other words a bad man. You know… my type of guy!”

  “None of that matters,” Charlie retaliated, “these people believe it and that is all that does. Belief Greebol. Sometimes to believe in something is more important than the truth.”

  And it was at that moment Charlie Pinwright realised what was really missing in his life. Belief. He needed to believe in something. He had never really believed in anything or anyone. His parents let him down. His girlfriend had let him down. His boss had let him down. Everyone that ever came into his life would eventually give him reason not to believe in them, which resulted in Charlie never really believing in himself. He needed something. Some sort of direction. And this new life out here in space was not the correct one for him.

  “Greebol,” said Reverend Kimfin impatiently. “The ‘item’?”

  “What happens now?” Charlie asked in a hushed whisper towards the bobbing ear on the end of Greebol’s double antennae. “We don’t have Professor Amirous with us.”

  “Do we not?” came Greebol’s sly reply. He pushed his hands down the front of his 'oh so tight, oh so spandexey' shorts and rummaged around inside.

  Everyone in the church wanted to look away in disgust, but none could seem to.

  “How much do you store down there?” Charlie gasped.

  “Everything… I… need… on a day to… day… basis,” replied Greebol, deep in concentration as he fumbled for what he was looking for.

  “Let me guess,” said Charlie, “you have a molecular expanded stretchy thing down there?”

  “You would be surprised how handy those things can be!”

  He found what he was looking for and pulled out the Through Interspace Transportation System control.

  “What is that?” asked the Reverend.

  “This, my friend,” responded Greebol grinning, “is exactly what you hired me for!” He pressed the large button.

  Just above the altar, at the far end of the room, there was a slight shimmer as particles began to move, as molecules began to form. In front of their eyes the slight outline of Professor Amirous began to take form in sprinkling, sparkling little sheens of light.

  Amirous grew more solid with every passing second. He was lying down, still sleeping. They could now make out his blue skin, his clothes and his lack of facial features. Just a few moments more and he would be fully transported from the electrical to the altar.

  Then something went wrong. The shimmering glow around Amirous began to expand. It began to grow. Amirous could still be seen but there appeared to be something else around him, caught in the TITS teleportation.

  Slowly the larger thing began to take form. And it was big! As it gradually grew solid, the group of onlookers saw dark green scales covering a huge, muscular frame. Two thick, strong back legs and two hooked front arms. A long, three pronged tail swished at the back and a head, reptilian in appearance with two red, cruel eyes sat at the end of a long, ridged neck. A line of sharp spines ran down its back, two thick wings folded up behind it. This was indeed a monster!

  Professor Amirous could no longer be seen for he appeared to be inside this creature. Inside its belly!

  “What is this?” Reverend Kimfin gasped. “Is this some sort of joke Greebol?”

  The bounty hunter stared, wide mouthed as the shimmering light around the large beast faded away and the creature looked around the room in confusion.

  “If it is a joke,” he said slowly, “then the joke is on me.” He looked to Charlie. “A creature from one of the other dimensions would you say?”

  “Probably,” came the Human's response. He knew what this was but it was impossible. Impossible at least in his dimension. This was a dragon, he was sure of it!

  “Greebol!” the Reverend shouted. “Get this thing out of my church!”

  One of the priests made the mistake of stepping a little too close to the dragon, attempting to shoo it away as you would a cat on your doorstep. The dragon did not like being shooed.

  It raised one of its large, heavy clawed feet, which was three times the size of the Jaal, and brought it crashing down on the priest’s head. It burst in two like a cracked egg.

  Chaos enfolded. Priests ran in every direction, reaching behind statues, under chairs and inside collection boxes, pulling out a variety of highly dangerous and highly illegal weapons, forcing Charlie to wonder what type of priests these people were.

  “It’s an attack!” shouted Kimfin. “Greebol sent this beast here to kill us!”

  Greebol tried to protest but his words were unheard as the blast from one of the priest's weapons echoed around the church. At once they opened fired on the dragon, which roared a deafening roar! It raised up onto its back legs and took a huge, deep breath.

  “Get behind something,” Charlie shouted to Greebol, aware of what was to come. They dove behind a bench just in time as a stream of flames burst from the dragon’s mouth. The room erupted up into a burning blaze, as did a number of the priests!

  “Destroy it,” shouted Kimfin, “and then destroy the bounty hunter and his partner!”

  Greebol and Charlie took this as a time to go. They ducked under the flames as they rushed for the door, jumping over laser blasts from the priest’s weapons. The antennae on top of Greebol’s head took a bit of a frying.

  They eventually reached the big doors and pushed them open. They took one last look back at the madness inside the church before rushing out, back into Devil’s Alley. The large church was up in flames. The screams of priests echoed down the alleyway.

  Chapter 26

  A green eyelid flickered. A green eyelid opened, followed by another. A pair of bright, w
arm, silver eyes focused. Where was she?

  Memories flooded back to her like a swarm of ants attacking their prey. The Gumthar… Greebol. This was his ship. Slowly she reached up and pushed open the glass lid of the canister she lay in.

  Sitting up, the beautiful May’orn looked around. Her head hurt. She rubbed it with slender fingers and found a slight bump. That pink skinned man! That pink skinned man had hit her over the head with a flipping book! A book the weight of a brick no less!

  There was a growl from the canister across from her. The Umfian was also stirring. He opened his lid and eyed her suspiciously.

  She had not been around many Umfians in her time but had heard the common rumours. Rumours that they ate their way out of their mother’s womb or that the only way to rise in the Umfian Militia ranks was to kill your superior. Of course not all rumours were true. Only one of these particular rumours was. Only she didn’t know which one.

  “You Kidnapped Like Me?” the Umfian snarled, still feeling very groggy.

  She nodded her head slowly, not wanting to make any fast movements.

  “That Gumthar. He Do This Yes?”

  The lovely May’orn nodded again.

  “He Will Die For What He Has Done To Me!” The Umfian remembered Greebol. He had met him in a bar. Little did he know that a few hours later he would be hit on the back of his head after having his drink spiked and that Greebol would be dragging him into this ship. He didn’t know who that pink skinned man that attacked him was, but he guessed from his strength that he must be a fierce and brutal being.

  The Umfian himself was a warrior. He would get his vengeance on that Gumthar! He would rip the flesh from his bones!

  The May’orn however had a completely different idea in mind for Greebol. She had to get to him before the Umfian. She needed him very much alive and with skin intact.

  She quickly jumped from the canister and headed out of the door and out of the electrical. She looked around the docking bay. This is not where she was supposed to be.

  She had been here before, when she was younger. This was the city of Baggus on Baggus’Regious. She could tell by the smell. The place was famous for its stench. She used to own a little model of the city that came with the street's actual odour. It was the worst toy she ever owned.

  Knowing how hard it would be to find Greebol in Baggus, she set off immediately to begin her search.

  A few moments later the Umfian stepped down the electrical’s steps. He didn’t care where he was and actually didn’t mind the smell. In fact it made him hungry. All he cared about was getting his hands around that Gumthar’s neck.

  Clenching his fists he headed out of the docking bay, failing to notice something metallic moving underneath the electrical.

  It was a robotic arm, the hand latched onto the hull of the ship. Slowly it released its grip and, pushing itself along with its fingertips, also headed out of the docking bay.

  Chapter 27

  Food, in most places in the various dimensions, was food. It was edible, had at least some taste to it and filled a hole. Of course there are always the exceptions. Sprouts have a general mistrust.

  On Intelligeous Prime there is a type of food called Rasspute. It comes in a tin and is sold in every area of the planet at a pretty decent price. The only trouble with Rasspute is that no one ever ate it as it tasted like licking the behind of a damp donkey. It was only ever eaten as a very last resort. How the company that produced Rasspute stayed in business was anyone’s guess.

  The Wizards found a food containing thousands of Specks. They called it shimmering bread, although it was in no way shimmering and contained absolutely no bread. It is generally believed that eating shimmering bread would give you greater magical powers. This was found to be false. It actually gave the contents of your stomach great magical powers, which made going to the toilet extremely difficult. Many Wizards who ate the shimmering bread found their toilet suddenly change into an armadillo or a steam train mid poo.

  However none of these foods were as bad as the slop that was being served onto Charlie Pinwright’s plate at Mother Muggo’s café. It was actually beginning to dissolve his spoon as he tried to scoop up the gloop.

  “I think I’ll just have a glass of water if you don’t mind,” he said, trying not to sound too offensive.

  “I do not think so,” replied ‘Mother’ Muggo, “you need as much food as you can get. Look at you! You are wasting away!”

  Charlie smiled. It was a nice smile. False, but nice. Wasting away. No one on Earth would have said he was wasting away. If anything they’d say he’d had one too many pies looking at his pot belly. Of course compared to the Gumthars he was positively skinny.

  ‘Mother’ Muggo was a Gumthar. To Charlie, female Gumthars were quite similar to the males, except their skin was a darker shade of grey and they had enormous breasts. Really enormous. Beach ball sized. Greebol had explained that Muggo had been his nanny when he was a child. She had been like a mother to him and many other young Gumthar hence the nickname of ‘Mother’.

  “So now you own your own café,” said Charlie, trying to distract Muggo’s attention away from the bowl of slop, which he was carefully tipping into a nearby pot plant. “What made you stop being a nanny?”

  Greebol hid behind his hot cup of stomach ache.

  “I just fancied a change that is all,” came Muggo’s reply, somewhat sheepishly. Charlie decided wisely not to push the matter.

  Greebol chose to head upstairs, above the café where he had played in his youth, allowing Charlie a bit of a breather from his company.

  “Oh I see you have eaten all of your food,” said Muggo smiling. “What a good boy you are! Care for some more?”

  “No!” Charlie shouted, rather too loud. He checked his volume levels and continued, “I mean no thank you Muggo. I am quite full.”

  “Well, there is plenty more should you get a bit peckish later on.” She cleared his bowl and slightly melted spoon. “Oh,” she said in confusion, “my pot plant seems to have died.”

  For the next few hours, Charlie sat in the empty café, talking to Muggo. He told her of his life, how he was probably the most uninteresting man on Earth, how nothing seemed to go his way and how eventually every person in his life had let him down.

  Muggo told Charlie how to make onion and used bath water soup.

  Soon darkness fell on the city of Baggus. Small lights flickered on down every street but provided little illumination, which was how the robbers, muggers and murderers preferred it. Night time was best left to those kinds of folk. If you had any sense you wouldn’t stray out of your house after dark. Sure, the Sentry would patrol the streets but in Baggus City there were too few Sentry officers and far too many criminals.

  Then there was the night life. The bars and cesspits opened when the three suns went to sleep. Now, admittedly, if you wanted the type of night out that involved ridiculous amounts of alcohol, loud, scary music, a couple of fist fights, possibly a stabbing and if you were lucky, peanuts at the bar, then Baggus was the place to be. It is said that eventually every drunk, druggie or person looking for a scrap, makes their way to Baggus. Usually they never manage to make it back out again.

  Charlie Pinwright had never been much of a party animal. Not even a party fish. In fact you wouldn’t even call him a party snail. It wasn’t so much that Charlie disliked going out, it was just that no one ever thought to invite him. Probably because most people didn’t even realise Charlie Pinwright existed. Right now, that was exactly the way he was liking it.

  “I have made a bed for you in the spare room,” Muggo said as she began to turn out the café lights. “It is the bed with the fewest lumps in it.”

  “That will be fine thank you,” he responded with sleepy eyes. “I think right now I could sleep for England.”

  Muggo nodded in agreement but didn’t have the slightest clue what England was. Maybe that ex-girlfriend he had spoken of. What a bitch. England the bitch.

  �
�Good night Muggo,” said Charlie mid yawn as he slowly climbed the steps.

  “Good night Charlie.”

  At the top of the stairs Charlie bumped into Greebol who appeared to be lurking. It had been quite awkward between the two of them since the church incident. Charlie did not understand Greebol’s lack of morals or ethics. Greebol didn’t understand Charlie’s negativity towards him.

  “Going to bed now?” Greebol asked as he stood in a nightcap, a teddy bear under one set of arms, hot water bottle under the other.

  “Yeah,” Charlie muttered, “you?”

  “Yes.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause.

  “Muggo seems nice.”

  “She is,” said Greebol. “Too nice at times. Probably best you do not ask why she stopped being a nanny again though.”

  “Oh really? Why?”

  “It is a bit of a sore subject. See… when I became a wanted man on Baggus, ‘Mother’ Muggo put me up here. Stort found out what she had done and had her child care service shut down. It was a sad time for her. A sad time for the city really.”

  Charlie could not believe what he had heard. The lows that Greebol kept dipping to staggered him. This creature was unbelievable.

  “Well I hope you’re happy with yourself,” he scolded. “The poor old lady! You have a nasty habit of ruining people’s lives!”

  “Ruin lives? Charlie my friend, I do not ruin lives.”

  “Bull! You ruined Muggo’s, professor Amirous’, the priests at that church… and then there’s me…”

  “Ah! Here it comes,” Greebol spat, “all you, you, you!”

  “How dare you?”

  “How dare you?”

  “No, how dare you?”

  “This could go on for some time.”

  “No it won’t, because I’m going to bed!”

  And with that, Charlie stepped into his room and slammed the door. He flung himself down onto the bed and hit the pillow over and over again, imagining it to be Greebol’s smug, grey face.

  Still, he was tired and homesick. All he needed was a good night’s sleep. He would probably feel better in the morning. Yes, a good night’s sleep.