Forever Series 5: The Forever Alliance

by Craig Robertson

  It’s safe now, I think.

  The membrane disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

  The stark neutrality of this place had changed. There was heat, lots of heat. And smells. Burned, smoldering things. And sounds. Echoes and ringing vibrations. I think I preferred the empty place.

  And Yibitriander was gone. Not a trace. It hit me. The burning smell was probably him. I nearly vomited. Where Wrath had been, I saw a full membrane, which switched off as soon as I looked at it. The cube was undamaged.

  Al, what the hell had just happened?

  I believe we rescued you, Pilot.

  Who’s we? I only hear you. Are you in Wrath?

  If I was in Wrath, how could you have heard me when his shield was up? Hum? What to try thinking before your gums flap?

  Gums flap? Al, you’re kind of harsh here, aren’t you? I was fighting for my life when you arrived, if you will recall.

  That was fighting for your life? It looked like you were playing hammer and nail with Des-al, and you were the nail.

  Remind me to have Doc delete your lame humor circuits. Now, what…

  “Jon,” a familiar voice called out, “are you all right?”

  I whipped around to the cube and saw Yibitriander jogging over to me. Two observations struck me. He was moving normally, and he wasn’t incinerated. What? He was standing in the open when an infinity charge went off at point blank range. No one survived that.

  He arrived where I stood and attached his probes for a second.

  “Good, you’re unharmed.” He took in a deep breath and exhaled with relief. “I was worried that stunt wouldn’t work.”

  “Anyone care to tell me what the stunt that might not have worked was? I’m, I don’t know, kind of interested if what the hell just happened. And where’s Des-al? You know, the thirty-meter-tall monster dragon?”

  “There was never a huge golden dragon here, Jon. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” Yibitriander said with attitude.

  “Huh?” was all I had.

  “My, your rapier-like wit is impressive, Pilot,” said Al.

  “Come, Jon, let’s get you home. I’ll explain as we travel. Kayla is worried sick.”

  “Is she okay?” I asked rather stupidly.

  “Of course not. The Last Nightmare captured her mate and took him to the Neverwhere. It should have been impossible to rescue you, dead or alive. Oxisanna’s with her, but she’s upset. Come.” He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me toward Wrath.

  “But what about Des-al?”

  “I hope he no longer exists. Kymee and a few others will come investigate once they see we’ve safely returned. Come. We’ll talk as we go.”

  The remarkable quality of the trip home to Exeter was that it took ten minutes. The travel wasn’t instantaneous. I’d have to check later why that was. The ten minutes of nausea was not pleasant. I hadn’t had the stomach flu in two centuries, and I hadn’t missed it.

  When Wrath materialized, the two women were seated by the pad. Kayla rushed out of Oxisanna’s arms and would have hit the cube’s wall if Yibitriander hadn’t opened a portal in the nick of time. She scanned the control space and locked onto me. She ran to me and jumped into my arms, hugging me like I wished she’d never have to stop. Her tears switched over to the happy version, and my shoulder quickly became wet. It was marvelous.

  “I’m fine honey,” I said when it finally came time to pry her off. “And you should see the other guy.” I gestured a thumb downward. “Toast. Burned toast, in fact.”

  “I’ll just bet,” she said wiping snot with the back of her hand.

  “Oh yeah. Des-al’s gone so far as to retain a lawyer. He’s threatening to sue me for everything I own.”

  She gently punched my chest. “Just let him try. He’ll have to go through me first.”

  “The kids okay?” I asked.

  “Yes. I didn’t tell them what was happening. Turk was nice enough to get Karnean so he could be with them while we waited here.”

  “Remind me to thank him.”

  “Oh, Turk promised he’d extract his pound of flesh for the favor. He said he had an itch and was maybe going to ask you to scratch it.”

  “In his dreams,” I said.

  “Talk about nightmares,” said Yibitriander coming up from behind. He had the large pack slung over a shoulder, but it seemed much lighter. “Let’s go to your place. We can talk there. I’ve spoken with Kymee and the others. They should already be in the Neverwhere. Hopefully they’ll just be mopping up.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Al, his voice coming from inside the backpack.

  “Do you have to bring that?” I asked pointing to the pack.

  “Would you kindly strike the pilot with the backpack, Yibitriander,” said Al.

  After hugging the kids for a good long while and checking in with Karnean, the adults adjourned to the living room to talk. I was dying to know exactly what had happened.

  “Once you were gone, we knew immediately it was the Nightmare,” Yibitriander began. “Fortunately for us, Des-al made several assumptions that allowed us to come get you. He assumed, most of all, we couldn’t access the Neverwhere, so he prepared no defense.” He shook his head. “Stupid mistake, really. Arrogance always leads to disaster in warfare.”

  “How did you? It seems impossible,” I asked.

  “Oh, the Neverwhere is just a fancy name for another dimensional plane. Not really such a chore to access if you know where to go.”

  “Another dimensional plane?” asked Karnean.

  “Yes. We use three dimensions, right? The X, Y, and Z axes, if you will. There are many other dimensions; we simply don’t perceive them. The Neverwhere is just a dimensional space that uses say the A, B, and C axes.”

  “And how did you know to go there?” asked Kayla.

  “There was a residual trail left when Des-al pulled you through. Another mistake on his part,” replied Yibitriander. “Once there, we could deploy our plan, since you were doing a very good job of distracting him.”

  “Yes,” said Al, who was now in a suitcase-sized computer sitting on the coffee table, “your ability to make anyone or anything angry is remarkable. You should give lessons.”

  “I was counting on Des-al continuing to err,” said Yibitriander. “I suppose his past successes made him careless.”

  “Twelve universes destroyed,” I responded. “That’s a pretty good track record.”

  “When I realized he was a non-corporeal entity, a strategy for killing him became clear.”

  “Wait,” I said. “You realized he was non-corporeal? How?”

  “Pilot, please do try and keep up,” quipped Al. “There’ll be a quiz at the end, so pay attention.”

  “You didn’t figure it out?” asked Yibitriander.

  I shook my head. “I knew there was something fishy about him, but, I don’t know, maybe since I’ve never encountered a non-corporeal species, it was off my radar screen?”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Yibitriander sternly. “You know Al.”

  “Yes, Pilot. Am I chopped liver?”

  “I wish you were.”

  “Jon,” Yibitriander said, “one of them was a butterfly and the other fit into a tiny metal sphere. They projected void material. They were masters of illusion. What else could they be?”

  “Giant golden dragons,” I replied.

  “They could be what?” asked Kayla.

  “That’s what I was fighting when the cavalry came,” I responded, pointing to Yibitriander.

  “No. You were fighting a projection, a construct he meant to frighten you with,” replied Yibitriander.

  “Well he did a damn good job of it. I can tell you that. The thing was humongous.”

  “The projection was. Des-al had no body.”

  “No body? He sure the hell ripped the place up. If I’d stood still, he’d have sliced me up good.”

  “It was a good projection with interesting and dynamic elements. It was n
othing more than a sophisticated puppet,” responded Yibitriander.

  “A puppet that’d gut a blue whale with one swing.” I felt a need to defend my honor.

  “Be that as it may. The weak link in our plot was the robot.”

  “Me? I was trying not to get killed,” I whined.

  “No, the other robot, you…” Yibitriander took a deep breath so he didn’t have to complete his thought.

  It was a good thing I no longer breathed. People sure did a lot of deep breathing around me.

  “We had to get Al and a membrane generator to you and the infinity charge as close to Des-al as possible. To do that, Toño fashioned a crude model of me, and we draped it over a blank android powered by a small AI.”

  “Wait, that limping thing was a human android with a Yibitriander costume on?” I snapped my fingers. “That’s why the third leg was stiff and dragging.”

  “Yes, it held the infinity charge.”

  “But, Des-al scanned me to know I was an android. Why wouldn’t he scan what he thought was you?” I asked of Yibitriander.

  “That was the soft underbelly of the scheme. I hoped he wouldn’t because he had scanned me when we met in battle. Luckily it worked.”

  “If it hadn’t? What was the backup plan?” I asked.

  “The android was going to trick-or-treat all Des-al’s candy. Then we hoped he’d die of sadness,” replied Al.

  “Not even close to funny, windup toy. Not even close,” I responded.

  “That’s a better backup plan than we actually had,” replied Yibitriander. “I don’t know what we’d have done if he uncovered our secret.”

  “We’d have all died,” said Al.

  Yibitriander nodded softly. “Most likely.”

  “Wow, all our lives hinged on a supreme being not figuring out a lame Deavoriath was actually a robot with a sheet pulled over it. How could that plan not work?” I asked sarcastically.

  “It did. That’s all that counts. As Des-al was non-corporeal, I figured he’d be rather easily scrambled by an infinity charge. I think he was. If the other Last Nightmare wasn’t close by, again, the plan would have failed.”

  “She was dead before you arrived,” I said. “Des-al killed her for wanting to stop fighting. He said she betrayed him.”

  “His arrogance was unbelievable. I wonder why those other universes succumbed to him?” asked Yibitriander.

  “Probably because they had greater numbers then,” replied Karnean.

  “Or maybe none of them had the Ryan edge,” I said helpfully.

  “Oh, that must be it,” said Al. “One look at him and they wanted to die. If we’d supplied a cliff they’d have jumped off.”

  “Okay, seriously, I want to know why you were so certain an infinity charge would kill Des-al?” I asked.

  “He was non-corporeal. Those creatures are always easy to dissipate. It’s the major weakness of the evolutionary choice. They save huge amounts of energy not having to maintain a body, but they are, in the end, charged particles held together loosely,” responded Yibitriander. “I reasoned that Des-al would likely expose himself if he thought he was about to kill the man who destroyed his group.”

  “So, you think he, what, floated there operating his giant dragon illusion?” I asked incredulously.

  “Yes. He’d likely need to be both close and exposed to exert the best control.”

  “Well, the proof’s in the pudding, I suppose. The plan worked.” I looked to Kayla.

  She was lifting her hands like she was pushing me in a direction.

  “Oh, thanks, both of you, for sticking your necks so far out for me. I really appreciate it,” I said.

  “You’re most welcome,” replied Yibitriander.

  Al was noticeably quiet.

  “Al, you still there? Battery pack not drained?” I asked.

  “I’m present. Please excuse my reticence to speak. That last insult really got to me. I was reeling.”

  “Okay, we’re all dying to hear it. How did I insult you?”

  “I have no neck. I risked my existence to bail you out, and you mock me because I lack anatomy. It’s hard. Sorry.”

  “You’re an awfully sensitive AI,” remarked Yibitriander.

  “No, not really. I’ve just endured so many insults from the robot over the centuries that his slings and arrows hurt the most.”

  “Can I get you a tissue?” asked Yibitriander.

  “Another funny guy. Great. That’s just what my ego requires,” responded Al.

  “So, do you think the Last Nightmare is gone for good?” I asked, trying to minimize my drama-mama computer.

  “Yes, I do. I doubt very much Kymee will find anything left in the Neverwhere.”

  “Good riddance,” I said.

  “Amen,” responded Kayla. “Now we can have some peace.”

  The room was silent.

  “What?” she asked.

  “We were luckier than we deserved to be with the Nightmare,” replied Yibitriander. “But their elimination will likely spur the Berrillians back to their evil ways. Peace is unlikely.”

  “But we have the strength to obliterate them,” I protested.

  “In an all-out frontal assault, possibly so. But there are many ways to win a war. That is only one of them.”

  “So, what do you think they’ll do?” I asked with obvious frustration in my tone.

  “Precisely what we least expect. That is always their greatest weapon. They are ruthless and strong, to be certain. But their minds are different than ours, and they will do anything to advance the Berrillian empire.”

  “You don’t seem to be too optimistic,” remarked Kayla.

  “That’s because I’ve fought them before,” replied Yibitriander. “We couldn’t wipe them out before, and our technical superiority was even more pronounced. Facing them now is something I do not want to do. I’m too old, and they’re too vicious.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  “Which tastes better,” Anganctus asked those lounging around his dinner table, “your enemies or your allies?”

  Nervous looks shot from cat to cat. No one was anxious to answer. An incorrect response could be a fatal error.

  Fortunately, the king needed his retinue only to witness his splendor. “Neither. They both taste as sweet.” He lofted a mug of fermented milk.

  All mugs rose in agreement, and boisterous howls and catcalls came from the crowd.

  “I ask if there’s even a difference between the two, enemies and allies. I say you’re either Faxel or you’re on my menu,” remarked Xantrop, head of the palace guard. He was the closest thing there was to being Anganctus’s friend.

  The king pounded his mug on the table, spilling half its content in the process. “Here, here. I’ll drink to that.” Anganctus tossed what remained in his mug down his capacious throat.

  A servant rushed to refill the ruler’s mug but made no attempt to clean the mess he’d made. Messes were part of the Berrillian culture. Foul smells concealed their predatorial scent from their ancestral prey. For a cat to stink beyond description was an admirable quality. In fact, the term, rancid was a complement adult Faxel bestowed upon younger ones to signify approval. By any measure, Anganctus was a master of olfactory offensiveness. He was aided in that capacity by not one but three slaves whose sole duty was to help him smell horrible. They considered themselves among the lucky, by the way. If they were good at their jobs, they were well rewarded.

  “I must say, Fractor, when that rodent Yibitriander was here last week to discuss our alliance, you were convincingly serious and attentive. Praise to you. The rest of our pack would not have been able to deal with him so… cordially,” yelled a very drunk Xantrop. At least he wanted to convey the impression he was very drunk. The Faxel were so duplicitous that it was impossible for any one of them to know what the other thought or intended.

  Fractor hadn’t survived so long, so close to power by being inattentive or dull-sighted. He realized those words might be a challenge
masked in denial, designed to see if he’d take the bait. When fishing, the master cast many a line before he rightly anticipated a strike.

  “Of course, I studied him seriously and intently. Does not legend maintain that the sweetest, richest meat of all is that of the three-legged Deavoriath? I was torn between urinating on a leg or ripping into the taste treat he might have been.”

  The room exploded in laughter.

  Not good, reflected Fractor. Too funny a comeback was as dangerous as too bold an insult. He lowered his head but kept his eyes locked on Xantrop.

  “It has been said, and I believe it to be the very essence of truth,” shouted Anganctus as he punched the cat by his side. “I cannot sink my teeth into one of them soon enough.” He wiped his drooling mouth with his tail.

  “My friend Fractor knows well we all wish nothing but curses to the three-legged devils,” said a measured Xantrop. “How to achieve our goals while remaining alive is the real issue.”

  “The Last Nightmare are no longer a threat,” responded Anganctus. “You heard the scum say so yourself. With no mortal threat to my people, I am free to do whatever I wish.” He leered at the man he’d recently struck. “And I wish to chomp on one of those plump legs. And I’ll give you one and you one,” he said, pointing to two nearby cats.

  Again, laughter erupted. It was easy for a tyrant to be funny.

  “If there ever was, in fact, a threat,” responded Fractor. “I wouldn’t put it past the rodent droppings to have fabricated the entire tale. I’ll wager they want to draw near us so they can eat us.”

  “No, no, my friend,” said Anganctus sloppily, “that is not the ways of these hairballs. They raise this species here to consume daintily, and that one there to pet and admire, and that one over yonder to screw when their mates aren’t watching.”

  “They are odd, I’ll agree with you there,” replied Fractor. “How one could make a distinction is well beyond my understanding.”

  “And my palate,” added Xantrop.

  Merry mirth ruled again amongst those assembled.

  “Still, Xantrop’s words are wise and should be heard,” said Anganctus, raising a mighty paw in the air.

  The room fell silent like every throat had been slit. The few who were certain what was said contemplated the best response or nonresponse. Those who’d missed the message panicked that they’d be asked to comment on the issue.