The Endless War That Never Ends

by Christopher Brimmage

  Pre-battle banter between the marines drifted up from below decks through the open hatch in the back of the bridge, and the sounds gave Normal-Art something new on which to concentrate, and he smiled. For the years and years that encompassed his captivity, Normal-Art had experienced a dearth of banter from his confines at the back of the bridge of the B.S.S.C. Mimessiah, unless you counted the times when he could bite his tongue no longer and a zinger or one-liner escaped unchecked from his lips. But these interruptions became fewer and fewer over the years as Officer-Art’s beatings grew simultaneously more vicious and more frequent.

  Officer-Ginny reached up a hand and twisted a dial on the ceiling, and some holographic numbers appeared. They floated above the co-pilot instruments in front of her. She cleared her throat and then said, “Turn forty-nine degrees to port as soon as we pass Earth 69,065, and we will hit a rift that will jump us directly to Earth 4. We should arrive in approximately ten seconds.”

  Officer-Art waited a few seconds and then jerked the stick sharply to the left. Though Normal-Art tried to resist, he could not help looking out the front screen as Officer-Art changed direction. He immediately regretted it, as the colorfulness and colorlessness of the vast space outside momentarily separated, but then flashed back together as soon as the ship finished its turn and regained velocity. The view made Normal-Art’s head ache worse than ever.

  Officer-Art reached a free hand to a green button and pressed it, holding it down while he ordered, “Captains, initiate cloaking sequences. Follow my beacon on private frequency Iota. Radio silence in effect until we land.”

  Officer-Art released the button and toggled a few more dials and switches in what could have been a set pattern but seemed random to Normal-Art. The ship slowed—which Normal-Art only noticed because the miasma outside separated once more—and then flew directly into a bolt of lightning that appeared in front of the ship after Officer-Art’s eagle fired a bolt of lightning into the metal pole standing erect from the command console. As usual, the lightning created a vacuum in Normal-Art’s ears, and also as usual, he wished to go deaf. He noted inanely that if he had found a genie in a bottle during his ridiculous years of misadventure and used his first wish to gain a million extra wishes, he would probably only have a dozen or so wishes left at this point given the number of times he had wished to go deaf. He sighed.

  The shift-shuttle exited the lightning and Earth 4 filled the view screen. The sky was a deep purple, and storm clouds the color of blood swirled seemingly unto infinity across the horizon, an occasional blue bolt of lightning dancing between them. The ship passed through the clouds and leveled out thousands of feet above the ground, never slowing its pace.

  As the earth zoomed by underneath the ship, Normal-Art watched as rolling plains covered in great green ferns soon gave way to rocky soil that soon began to grow taller and rockier as mountains loomed ahead. Cave openings covered the surface of the mountains, reminding Normal-Art of swiss cheese doused in dirt.

  In the distance atop the tallest mountain loomed a mighty spire hundreds of stories tall and made from what appeared to be onyx. Ships shaped like eights and ships shaped like fours and gigantic dirigibles and thousands of other randomly shaped ships buzzed around it like hundreds of worker bees, some entering cargo bays that opened in the spire’s exterior, some exiting to fly into the sky and disappear into nothingness after wiggling to-and-fro at supersonic speed.

  As the shift-shuttle flew toward the spire and its details became more visible to Normal-Art, he noticed that the top of the monolith was carved into the shape of a clock. Its hands appeared to move both clockwise and counterclockwise simultaneously. Normal-Art was sure that was supposed to be symbolic of something, but the image gave him a headache, so he looked down at his feet again and stopped thinking about it.

  Soon, Normal-Art felt the shift-shuttle slow to a halt and land on the rocky dirt. Officer-Art flipped a few switches, the ship made a few loud hissing noises, and the power to the engine turned off. Normal-Art heard a loud thunk emanate from below decks as the hatch to the ship crashed open. Marine boots echoed up from below as the soldiers unstrapped themselves and exited the ship. Officer-Art unstrapped himself and stood. Officer-Ginny did the same. Then she unstrapped Normal-Art, forcing him to his feet. They prodded Normal-Art in the back until he scooted his way down the ladder that poked up through the bridge’s hatch. He moved so slowly and carefully because of his plaster-encased hands that he prevented himself from falling until the third rung down. His shoulder broke his fall as he tumbled to the metal floor, and he cursed. He pulled himself to his feet before Officer-Art could beat him for his clumsiness, and then he trudged out the exit ramp at the aft of the ship.

  As his shoes touched down upon the rocky soil, he took a moment to glance about and immediately wished he had not. This earth’s weirdness did not stop at its odd-colored sky and weather. No, it looked like the most ridiculous piece of Salvador Dali art ever, if Dali were to get high on the strongest drug from the acid-swamps of Earth 980,766 and paint on a cosmic scale. Drooping clocks fluttered through the sky like birds, lizards shaped like sundials skittered across the dirt, and little bunnies with eights and fours for ears hopped about nonchalantly. Normal-Art began to groan in annoyance, but he was interrupted when Officer-Ginny pushed him in the back to make him keep moving.

  The ships had landed in a tiny valley encircled by mountains, and Normal-Art counted four gigantic caves that opened before them, one in each of the cardinal directions. Normal-Art felt another shove in the back, and he stumbled forward toward the mammoth cave mouth on the north side. He could see the marines standing at attention in a grid formation inside the cave. Before entering, Normal-Art glanced up at the sky and realized he was about to be prodded into a cave within the base of the mountain from whose peak the onyx spire loomed high above. From this close, the spire’s exterior material looked oddly similar to the saber he had once worn around his neck. He wondered if anybody up there in the spire had noticed the B.I.T.’s shift-shuttles approaching, but when he glanced over his shoulder at the valley in which they had landed, he saw no sign of the shift-shuttles. He frowned, and then realized the ships must be cloaked—and thus must have gone unnoticed by the people in the spire. He hung his head and allowed himself to be prodded into the cave.

  “Where are we?” asked Normal-Art. He was answered with another shove.

  “Look, I know what you’re thinking,” continued Normal-Art unabated. “See, I dealt with a very literal god in my past, so I know how these things work. You’re thinking the next time I ask where we are, it’ll be super clever to say, ‘We’re on Earth 4,’ since I obviously heard you mention that was our destination back on the ship. But I obviously want to know what to expect here, not just what version of Earth we’re on.”

  “You done?” asked Officer-Ginny from a few menacing inches behind him.

  Normal-Art slowed for a moment and stuttered his assent. He felt another shove in his back, and this time, as he stumbled forward, his right foot became entangled with the heel of his left. He tripped. He fell on his face and sprawled across the dirt. He landed on one of the lizards shaped like a sundial and found an answer to a question he had not asked: yes, the dial-appendage is in fact made of horn and is also exceptionally hard. Normal-Art squealed. Officer-Ginny grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him to his feet. He frowned at the squished gore of the lizard that lay directly in the middle of the body-shaped imprint he had made in the rocky dirt.

  She then said, “To answer your question, we’re on Earth 4,” and dropped into silence after letting out a tiny chuckle.

  Normal-Art continued forward, only for Officer-Ginny to yank at the back of his shirt like it was a set of reins when they neared the marines standing at attention.

  Officer-Art stood before them and addressed them. “Agents,” he said, “as you know, our situation back at base is dire. I picked your squadrons to accompany me here because I can think of none bette
r on which to rely in such desperate times.

  “We are here on this earth to steal the only weapon in the Multiverse that can save it,” continued Officer-Art, “so direness be damned. We’ve only got one shot at this. Your captains should have informed you of the implications of our being here. In case they did not, let me lay it out for you: we are on the home reality of another cosmic agency, one more ancient than even our own. We are committing an inter-agency crime, and if you are taken prisoner, you will enter an eternity of pain. So do not allow yourselves to be captured. Accomplish our mission or die in the attempt.

  “For those of you lucky enough to survive,” Officer-Art continued, “know this: you will have saved the Multiverse, and I will assure that you receive a full pardon from the B.I.T. as part of my guilty plea.”

  Normal-Art leaned over to Officer-Ginny and whispered, “Wait, what other agency? There’s another agency in charge of interdimensional travel?”

  Officer-Ginny elbowed him in the stomach, demanding silence. She whispered back, “No, you fool. There is only one agency that regulates interdimensional travel.”

  Officer-Art glared over his shoulder at the pair, and then turned back to address the soldiers. “Squadron Ampersand, you will remain here to guard the shift-shuttles, as they are our only way home. Squadron Pi, you are also to remain here. If we find ourselves in trouble, I’ll press the distress button, and that will be your cue. I will need you to create a diversion to attract attention. Use the hover tanks from the cargo holds and mount an assault on the front of the spire.”

  The commanders of Squadron Ampersand and Squadron Pi assented with a salute, Squadron Ampersand’s commander saluting with one of the eight tentacles he had in place of arms—because he was an oversized humanoid octopus in a B.I.T. marine uniform—and Squadron Pi’s commander saluting with one of the wings he had for arms—because he was an oversized humanoid owl in a B.I.T. marine uniform.

  Officer-Art continued, “The rest of you are with me. Squadron Umbrella will bring up the rear. Squadron Zero, you’ve got the right flank. Squadron Twelve, you’ve got the left. If anyone gets sighted or caught, lead whoever is after you away from our main force and away from the ships. Understood?”

  The marines all saluted in assent. Officer-Art nodded. He removed a pair of goggles with clear lenses from a pouch on his holster and placed them on his head. Officer-Ginny, along with every marine, did the same. Officer-Ginny removed a second pair from her holster and placed them over Normal-Art’s eyes. The goggle straps were too tight and pulled his hair, and he wished he still had the dexterity to remove them. They seemed naught but clear protective goggles, but as Officer-Art led the procession farther into the cave, Normal-Art found that he could see in the dark. Further, as he stared at different objects, small letters appeared to explain what they were. He noticed another one of the sundial-lizards lurking on the wall of the cave, and as he looked at it, he read, Protian Sun-Lizard, native to Earth 4. Diet includes Infinity Beetles and Loop Flies. Avoid consuming: toxicity level 3—will induce diarrhea and vomiting.

  Normal-Art looked away from the creature and farther into the cave. “Where are we going?” he asked as he walked between Officers Art and Ginny at the front of the raiding party.

  Agent 27142 smirked, but this time deigned to answer Normal-Art’s question. “The High Commander installed an assault door in this cave eons ago. Only B.I.T. agents with Classified Level Twelve or higher know of it. The High Commander installed it secretly so that if we ever needed to assault the B.T.T., we could penetrate their base and end any threat quickly and efficiently.

  “Now make sure you step carefully and use your goggles to avoid any booby traps,” continued Officer-Art. “The B.T.T. will surely have installed them throughout all the caves leading to their base whether they know there is a secret entryway in these caves or not. At least that’s what I would do if I were them and I wanted to prevent a hostile force from using these caves to mount an assault.”

  “Wait, what’s a B.T.T.?” asked Normal-Art.

  He did not receive an answer. Instead, he heard a small whine beneath his left foot when he took his next step. When he glanced down and noticed the object beneath his foot, the goggle readout stated: Landmine. If you never move, you may be safe.

  “I told you to use your goggles to avoid booby traps, you fool!” screamed Officer-Art. He punched Normal-Art in the stomach and then backed away with his soldiers to a safer distance.

  “I just can’t catch a break,” Normal-Art repeated over and over to himself as he removed his foot from the mine to try and run away.

  An explosion emitted from the mine, knocking him across the cave to crash into the wall. But his life did not end as he assumed it would. Dazed, he rubbed his sore head and listened to a cacophony of roars and grunts and growls. Then he heard some marines scream while others began firing their Scatter Guns. When his vision finally cleared and he looked up toward the carnage, he wished he had not.

  Chapter 20

  THROUGH THE CAVE AND INTO THE TOWER

  “I told you to use your goggles to avoid booby traps, you fool!” screamed Agent 27142 at his prisoner. As his fist connected with the fatty tissue of the lout’s gut, satisfaction spread from the fist up into Agent 27142’s heart like a fog rolling across a range of dark hills. He wished he had time to punch the prisoner again, but caution necessitated that he and his soldiers move away from the idiot and the activated mine below his foot.

  Agent 27142 had slapped and beaten and maimed his prisoner for the past decade, but none of the pain and suffering seemed to eradicate the stupidity from the prisoner’s head. Agent 27142 sighed as he backed away. He should have known better than to warn the fool about booby traps. The prisoner was such a bumbling buffoon that the moment he was warned to avoid something, he somehow always found a way to fall prey to that very something, almost always at a high cost to those around him.

  Agent 27142 heard a low whine emanate from the activated mine as Prisoner-Art shifted his weight from the foot atop the mine to his other foot. Warnings of Back Away! and Run! scrolled across Agent 27142’s goggles, so he backed away a few more feet and knelt on one knee. Though he had never physically been to this reality, he knew much about it from reading classified documents in B.I.T. headquarters, and he thus had a strong suspicion that he knew what to expect from this mine. He drew his Scatter Gun pistol and aimed the barrel at the space just above the mine, the space that the prisoner currently occupied.

  The mine exploded. The force of the blast threw Prisoner-Art into the air, and the fool flew over Agent 27142’s shoulder to crash against the cave wall. Agent 27142 did not look in the prisoner’s direction, did not inquire about his status. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the explosion and allowed his goggles to adjust to the blast.

  Dozens of slavering, ferocious beasts leapt from the explosion. A megalodon about sixty-feet long was flung from the explosion to the opposite side of the cave, its teeth biting into the flesh of three marines before it realized it was not in water, and then it panicked and began thrashing, taking down four more before it found itself riddled with disintegration bolts. Simultaneously, a trio of three-foot tall velociraptors leapt from the fiery explosion toward Agent 27142, but he zapped each one effortlessly before they came near enough for him to smell their foul breath. A gang of six leather-clad bikers on hovering motorcycles emerged as well, their unmuffled engines roaring like a half-dozen angry demons. These men brandished clubs covered in barbed wire, and they managed to bludgeon three more marines to death before Agent 29333 blasted them to nonexistence. Finally, a man in a white button-up shirt complete with a pocket protector and turtle shell glasses fell from the explosion and rolled in the dirt. He stood on his feet and put his hands up.

  “What’s happening?” he squealed. “I was just doing my mother-in-law’s taxes, and now I’m h-”

  His confused squealing was interrupted when he was blasted into nothingness by a dozen marines.

/>   The smoke cleared, and Agent 27142 stood. His boots crunched in the dirt as he walked over to the prisoner and yanked the fool up onto his feet. The idiot’s eyes were glazed, and he was obviously still dazed. Bright red blood matted his unkempt hair. “S-Sorry,” he muttered.

  Agent 27142 gained the satisfaction of punching the idiot in the gut once more. The fool let out a small gurgling sound and slumped down onto his side in the dirt. “Tell that to the families of the soldiers we just lost.”

  Agent 27142 watched the prisoner bite his lower lip, obviously trying to hold in a comment. When he could no longer restrain himself, the prisoner muttered, “Fine. Gimme their numbers. I’ll say I’m sorry and I’ll let them know I accidentally killed their loved ones because their commander took me prisoner for something I couldn’t control, and then dragged me into a war zone with NO GODDAMNED TRAINING!”

  Agent 27142 kicked the prisoner in the belly and smiled at the feeling of the fool’s gut around his boot. The prisoner shriveled. Agent 27142 said, “We do not have time for this or for your self-pity. Get to your feet. And this time, do the opposite of whatever your instincts tell you to do. Maybe then the rest of us can survive in one piece.”

  Agent 27142 turned from the prisoner, gave the signal for the marines to continue moving, and strode back to the front of the column. He heard Agent 29333 pick up the prisoner from the ground and shove him forward.