Normal-Art noticed the giant’s eyes slowly open, and he gulped in terror. The robotic arms that had been working with the needle in the giant’s chest dropped it unfilled to the ground, and then jerked into action to launch themselves toward the soldiers pushing the handcart. The arms grabbed two of the soldiers by the ankles and tossed them onto the giant’s lap. The giant giggled and smiled, and then poked the soldiers in the ribs like he was trying to tickle them. However, instead of filling the soldiers with laughter, time somehow distorted around them and the soldiers grew old, died, rotted, and turned to dust. The giant stared for a moment at the dust in his lap with a confused look before screeching in anger.
“NO!” it bellowed, pointing toward Art and the remaining soldiers. “ME WANT FRIENDS! BRING ME MORE FRIENDS!”
The robot arms grabbed two more of the soldiers pushing the hovering hand truck and tossed them toward the giant. They met the same fate. Normal-Art glanced back over toward Officer-Art. The final two soldiers on handcart duty sprinted with the handcart through the exit, along with Officers Art and Ginny and all the remaining soldiers. They had left Normal-Art to stand staring at the action like a bumbling idiot. Normal-Art cursed and launched after them at a sprint.
When he was a mere half-dozen feet from the exit, he felt hard metal clasp around his ankle. He shrieked a curse. However, before he could meet the same fate as the unlucky B.I.T. marines, Officer-Ginny intervened. She blasted one of the two arms with her Scatter Gun pistol while her eagle blasted the other with lightning, sending it to another dimension. She grabbed Normal-Art by the collar of his shirt and dragged him through the exit.
The giant now stood to its feet and began shuffling toward the B.I.T. raiding party, but as soon as Ginny pulled Normal-Art completely through the threshold of the factory and back into the hallway, she ripped the Dimensional Binding Tape from the threshold of the door. As soon as she did so, the factory disappeared as the pocket dimension cut itself off from this reality.
Officer-Ginny dragged Normal-Art to his feet and shoved him back down the hallway in the direction from which they had come.
“Who was that guy?” Normal-Art demanded as Officer-Ginny hauled him down the hallway.
After Normal-Art asked the same question a good half-dozen more times, Officer-Ginny finally replied, “It was obviously Father Time. Now be silent!” At a sprint, they caught up with the group just as it rounded the corner. At the end of this hallway, a turret dangled from an open hatch in the ceiling and fired conical ray beams at the raiding party. Another soldier found himself devolved before Officer-Art disintegrated the gun with his Scatter Gun pistol.
Four bearded men in purple bodysuits jumped into view at the end of the hallway and began firing ray guns at the B.I.T. raiding party. Officer-Ginny and Officer-Art made short work of them before they were able to strike any of the B.I.T. marines with their ray guns. Officer-Art pressed the distress button on the collar of his uniform and barked an order for Squadron Pi to begin their diversion by assaulting the B.T.T. headquarters with their hover tanks.
The raiding party then continued sprinting down the hallway. They turned left around the next corner, only to find themselves face-to-face with another turret and another four B.T.T. agents in purple bodysuits. The raiding party replicated the performance of the last hallway, losing a single soldier before Officers Art and Ginny eliminated the turret and the agents. They repeated this process two more times with the next two hallways, and finally found themselves in the hallway leading to the elevator bank.
Ten purple-bodysuited B.T.T. agents stood with their backs to Officer-Art and the raiding party, firing toward Squadron Umbrella, whose members were leaning out of cover in the elevator cars to fire at the B.T.T. agents. One of the B.T.T. agents touched a finger to his ear, nodded, and then spoke into his watch. “Got it, sir,” he said.
This agent then spoke to the other nine agents with him, “We’ve also got hostile forces attacking the front gates. Chief says to stay here and deal with these intruders befo-”
But before he could finish, Officer-Art, Officer-Ginny, and the remaining soldiers in Squadrons Twelve and Zero fired their Scatter Guns into the backs of the B.T.T. agents, flanking them with such speed and ferocity that they were all disintegrated before they had time to return fire a single time.
The raiding party sprinted the remaining distance to the elevators. When they reached Squadron Umbrella and the relative safety of the elevator cars, Officer-Art turned to the six remaining members of Squadron Zero. He pointed back the way they had come, toward the interior of the B.T.T. headquarters. He ordered, “You know what to do. Go cause chaos and bring honor to your unit.”
The soldiers saluted, turned on their heels, and then ran back down the hallway. At its end, they split up, two taking each of the three forks. Officer-Art entered the elevator, and then held the door open with his hand for Officer-Ginny, Normal-Art, and the remaining members of Squadron Twelve. Then he pushed the button for the bottom-most sub-basement. As the doors shut, screams echoed from the end of the hallway. Normal-Art frowned.
After what seemed like way too long, the elevator doors opened onto the familiar scene of the sub-basement storage warehouse. Officer-Art pushed the hand truck out of the elevator and stopped it next to the computer terminal. He stared out at the crisscrossed green lasers that covered the ground.
“We don’t have time to dodge between all these lasers,” said Officer-Art. “B.T.T. agents are going to come pouring out of these elevators any second. We’ve got to sprint.”
Officer-Art turned to the commanders of Squadron Umbrella and Squadron Twelve. “Me and Agent 29333 will push the hand truck. You and your men will form a shield around us. Squadron Twelve, you form the inner ring while Squadron Umbrella forms the outer ring. Myself and Agent 29333 must make it out of here at any cost. The Multiverse depends on us.”
The commanders of Squadron Umbrella and Squadron Twelve, a female with skin the color of lavender and a male wolf-man, respectively, nodded. “Aye, sir,” they said in unison.
Officers Art and Ginny gripped the handle of the hovering hand truck. Normal-Art shoved his way forward so he was between them. Though his hands were encased in plaster, he rested them against the back of the handle, knowing he would be no help, but that he would be less likely to get maimed or hurt if between these two. Officer-Art scowled at him, and Normal-Art half-expected the brute to shove him aside, but the agent instead shouted, “Go!”
Officer-Art began pushing the cart at a sprint. Officer-Ginny joined in, and so did Normal-Art, though he provided very little force and instead struggled merely to keep up with their pace.
As soon as the group pushed into the territory of the crisscrossing lasers and tripped them, alarms began blaring. Conical rays began firing down from the ceiling, but the rays missed all the soldiers, instead crashing against the wooden crates.
Normal-Art sighed in relief until he realized the aim was intentional. The wooden crates began moving backward in time, transitioning from cratehood into the forms of mighty trees. However, these trees had eyes, mouths, arms, and legs, were covered in blue and yellow war paint, and carried gigantic wooden mallets in their hands. Each also had embedded in its chest some sort of oddly juxtaposed artifact, obviously the artifact that had been stored within each crate—one a red amulet chased in gold, one a long and straight cone wrapped in mummy gauze, one a jeweled toad, one a clay mold of a child, one a dog shaped from corn husks, and many others just as strange. As Normal-Art sprinted, the goggle readout scrolled, Treendians, native to Earth 4. Were hunted to extinction to be used as crates. And, as you are undoubtedly learning, they make a good security system when alive.
Mallets crashed down upon the members of Squadron Umbrella. Four marines exploded in gore, their blood and entrails erupting to rain down on Normal-Art and the remaining soldiers. The Treendian cries ululated across the expanse of the warehouse, reminding Art of Native Americans in those old black and white Cow
boy and Indian films he watched with his mom as a kid. Squadron Umbrella and Squadron Twelve sprayed Scatter Gun blasts everywhere, killing the foe as best they could. But there were too many car-sized mallets raining down seemingly from all directions, and before long, the entirety of Squadron Umbrella and much of Squadron Twelve was left behind on the ground of the warehouse, nothing but squashed ringlets of gore.
However, their sacrifices were not in vain. Officer-Art, Officer-Ginny, Normal-Art, and the seven remaining members of Squadron Twelve pushed through the exit just as the last member of the Squadron Umbrella met his unfortunate fate. Officer-Art immediately slammed closed the stone door and twisted the stone dial to lock it. Normal-Art’s heart raced as he listened to the mallets beat upon it.
Officer-Art smirked. “No need to worry. The High Commander built this door himself. It is impervious. They won’t make it through.”
Officer-Art then turned on his heel and began pushing the hovering hand truck toward the mouth of the cave. “Come on,” he ordered. “And watch for the damned booby traps this time!”
Officer-Ginny shoved Normal-Art forward, and he began sprinting his slow, awkward version of a sprint back toward the ships.
Chapter 22
TIME FOR GOODBYES
AGENT 27142 REACHED one hand up from pushing the hovering hand truck through the cave to turn down the volume on his earpiece. Squadron Pi’s commander was in the process of giving a status update on the tank assault on the B.T.T.’s front gates when the commander’s tank exploded. Ensuing static ripped through Agent 27142’s ear canal, and he grunted before he was able to get the volume to a reasonable level. Though the squadron commander had been unable to finish the update before unceremoniously dying, Agent 27142 heard enough to understand that all of Squadron Pi was now gone.
Agent 27142 felt no guilt at losing the entirety of three squadrons and most of a fourth. Seventy-three dead agents were a small price to pay for the bomb stowed on the cart before him, for it represented salvation for the nearly infinite number of creatures throughout the Multiverse that would be spared from the cosmic bears. A small smile crept up the sides of his lips. He decided that he would enjoy this moment of victory, for soon he would be facing judgment and hard time in a penal dimension for this raid.
Agent 27142 and his surviving companions reached the front of the cave, where Squadron Ampersand stood with their Scatter Guns aimed out into the harsh afternoon light to eradicate any opposing force that approached the cloaked ships. Agent 27142 cleared his throat and said, “We return, smaller in number but successful.”
Agent 27142 nodded in approval as none of the soldiers turned to face him, and none of them removed their guns from their ready positions. None except the humanoid-octopus squadron commander, who had been using his tentacles to cling to the shadows on the ceiling of the cave. He dropped down and stood at attention before Agent 27142. The commander said, “Aye, ‘tis good news.”
“Give me a status update. Have you encountered any foes?” demanded Agent 27142.
“We’ve seen no action here today. But we did lose one soldier. Agent 99087777 was one of the tri-gendered koala-people from Earth 789,564, and it turns out that its species is allergic to something in the air here on Earth 4. None o’ our breathing filters were strong enough stop to its allergy attack. We couldn’t risk the agent’s constant sneezing drawing the B.T.T.’s attention to this area—because, as I’m sure ya know, the sneezes o’ the tri-gendered koala-people from Earth 789,564 are as loud as the church bells from the capitol of Earth 650,113—so Agent 99087777 b’came a casualty for the sake o’ the mission. The soldier understood. Its body and a letter it wrote to its family are stowed on one of the shift-shuttles for safe return back to its home reality.”
Agent 27142 nodded. “Good work. I shall need your team to assist me on one final mission before we depart. You may see some action yet.”
The commander nodded. “Aye, we’re at your service.”
Agent 27142 turned to the remaining members of Squadron Twelve. “Take the bomb aboard my shift-shuttle and load it so it is ready to be dropped.”
Squadron Twelve’s survivors saluted and went to work. Agent 27142 turned to Agent 29333. She looked dusty yet attractive in the shadows of the cave. He licked his lips. Prisoner-Art stood behind her and grunted like a fool as he attempted to swat a sundial-shaped bug away from his face, but instead managed nothing more than a smack upside his own nose. Agent 27142 scowled at him. Agent 29333 noticed the scowl and elbowed the prisoner in the gut without looking. The prisoner collapsed to the ground.
Agent 27142 swallowed his emotions and spoke. “Agent 29333, when I accessed the terminal, I found something else on this reality that will help ensure our success, but it will require me to stay for just a little while longer. Thus, you will take my shift-shuttle, the prisoner, and what’s left of Squadron Twelve back to Earth 55,777. There you will immediately detonate the bomb.”
Agent 29333 nodded. “Aye, sir,” she said. “Right away.”
Agent 27142 stared down at his boots. He licked his lips once more. Just tell her how you feel and kiss her, you fool! This may be your last chance, he thought.
Still looking at his shoes, he said, “The task I am staying behind to complete will be dangerous, and I may not make it out alive—and even if I do, the trans-chronal-dimensional politics at play in the crime we just committed against the B.T.T. will demand that justice against me be swift, so I will likely be carted off to a penal dimension as soon as the Multiverse is saved. So just in case this is the last time we see one another, I want you to know that I am in love with you. And if we can kiss, if we can make love just one time, all my sacrifice will have been worth it to me.”
Agent 27142 puckered his lips, closed his eyes, and leaned forward. He felt no similar puckered lips touch his, so he waited a moment longer. Behind him, he heard Squadron Ampersand’s commander clear his throat. Agent 27142 jerked his head toward the commander.
The commander pointed past Agent 27142 and toward the shift-shuttles. He said, “Sir, I regret to inform ya that she heard not a word o’ that. She took off right after ya gave her your orders. A good soldier, that one.”
Agent 27142 turned in the direction that the commander pointed. The ramp to Agent 27142’s shift-shuttle closed. The shift-shuttle took to the air and disappeared in a bolt of lightning. Agent 27142’s eagle crooned sadly. He patted its head.
“For what it’s worth, sir, I thought it was a beautiful speech, and I’d consider m’self lucky to have ya if ya could open your heart to a beast such as me.”
Agent 27142 ignored the creature, his neck turning red from anger and embarrassment. He really, really wanted to torture something just now and wished that he had not sent the prisoner away with Agent 29333. However, there were other things he would have the pleasure of torturing in but a few moments, so he did what he did best and returned his focus back to his mission. “Come on, we’ve got work to do,” he muttered.
Agent 27142 sprinted from this cave and entered a different cave on the other side of the clearing. The soldiers of Squadron Ampersand followed, their boots making scratching noises in the dirt as they ran. When Agent 27142 entered this cave, he noticed a dull purple light glowing far in the distance at the cave’s rear. He heard a female voice chanting. Beautiful echoes from the chant surrounded Agent 27142 and his soldiers at the entrance to the cave.
Agent 27142 smiled. The information he had discovered on the B.T.T. computer terminal had not been false. He stepped forward, knowing he was about to ensure that the fate of the Multiverse would bow to his will.
Chapter 23
BOMBS AWAY
Officer-Ginny strapped Normal-Art to his seat and sat down in the pilot’s chair. She pressed a series of buttons on the dash and flipped a few toggles, and the ship’s engine began vibrating in reply.
“What’s so special about this bomb?” asked Normal-Art, removing the metaphorical dam that blocked his mouth now that O
fficer-Art was no longer present. Though Officer-Ginny had no qualms about beating and torturing him, her heart never really seemed to be in it. She only hurt him badly when Officer-Art was around and paying attention.
Officer-Ginny ignored him, pulling back on the stick and achieving liftoff. What appeared to be a large, soggy rock thudded against the view screen and then bounced away. It left a few red streaks in its wake, which the ship’s automatic cleaners immediately wiped clean. Officer-Ginny frowned and tapped a few more buttons. “Guess we’ve got incoming fire. Time to move.” Then she screamed, “Engage!” to her eagle, which in turn fired lightning into the small metal pole sticking up from the console. The matching bolt of lightning appeared in front of the ship, and the ship dashed through it into the infinite expanse of the barrier between realities.
Normal-Art glanced down the hatch and toward the hold. He could hear the voices of the seven Squadron Twelve survivors drift up into the cockpit. They discussed lost comrades and their uneasiness concerning the weapon sitting at the ready near them, their speech now thick with survivor’s guilt, now thick with nervousness.
Normal-Art looked back over at Officer-Ginny. Her eagle sat on her shoulder facing backward, its eyes glaring at Normal-Art like he was a rodent it wanted to rip apart with its curved beak. “What’s so special about this bomb?” repeated Normal-Art.
Officer-Ginny huffed her breath out between ill-spaced teeth, the intent of which seemed to be to exert frustration and annoyance, but the whistle that erupted removed any of its intended intimidation. Normal-Art asked, “What’s going to happen when we detonate it?”
Officer-Ginny glanced over her shoulder at Normal-Art, scorn etched on her face. Normal-Art noted, however, that the etching seemed to have been completed by an artist only half-committed to the job. Normal-Art suppressed a smile, for out of all her body language he had experienced in his decade in her presence, this subtle uncommitted hatred was one of his favorites, because it generally meant she had no predisposition for violence at this time.
The Endless War That Never Ends Page 19