Gritting his teeth as well as grabbing hold of his failing nerve, Stevens pulled on the large ship’s wheel and tilted the Gibraltar in the direction of the cosmic rift. The pulsating impossibility appeared to drift toward them even as they fought the growing storm to reach it. Then suddenly the fluidity convulsed and expanded, swallowing the great dirigible in a spasm which cut the airship off from not only the storm, but from light, sound and sensation.
“What the bloody ’ell’s ’appening to us?”
“Captain, I can’t... can’t seem to breathe... I—”
Before Filimena could finish her sentence, however, the atmosphere around the Gibraltar rushed inward once more, revealing an entire new world about the explorers.
“Where in blazes are we?”
“As suggested earlier, captain,” offered Biggleton, staring out into the vast, unbelievable vista of oddly shifting colors before them all, “we have traveled beyond the wall of sleep, we have marched past dream and imagination where we will snare the energy needed to make our beloved England the mightiest nation in existence.”
*no... you shall not*
All heads turned toward the cylinder known as Roger. As each in turn tried to imagine what the machine voice could mean, it saved them the effort of doing so by explaining, *you shall do no more than bring death to your species... as was intended*
“Ummmmm, well,” responded Stevens, his hands still gripping the ship’s wheel as tightly as he had during the storm, his anxiety now even higher, “I’m certain these intellectual types know what you’re talking about, but if you wouldn’t mind... could you throw a bit of an explanation in with that statement? Just call me curious.”
*the triempalator was placed on your world to be found... I am of the Mi-Go... my race mines worlds for elements we do not possess ourselves*
Spitz entered the bridge at that moment, but none gave him any notice, their entire attention focused on Roger.
*we have done so here, many times throughout your history, but human interference has become simply too unbearable... you must be eliminated... thus you were given the triempalator*
“But how does giving a tremendous weapon to one’s enemy make any sense,” questioned Biggleton.
*your type is always greedy... as soon as you found you could use the device to acquire limitless power, you threw all wisdom aside and rushed to where you were told you could find power*
Roger made an almost smug sound, a chittering chuckle as it were, after which it continued, saying, *I offered no proof, merely implied that you would find ultimate power here, and thus here you raced... you are idiot children compared to the Mi-Go*
“So you mean,” asked Biggleton ruefully, “that there is no Bugg-Shash?”
As Spitz strode forth, listening to the cylinder with curiosity, the machine answered, *there is a Bugg-Shash... that is him, coming for you even as we speak*
The human contingent turned their attention toward a point far off the Gibraltar’s starboard side, all of them moving as one, all of them overcome with the horror of what little they could discern of the thing closing on their position. Vast was the approaching darkness, an inky morass spread across the alien background, a writhing nightmare of boiling energy, a thing covered in bleeding eyes and screaming mouths, a mass sliding hungrily forth to envelop them all—only as a beginning.
*And you are helpless to do anything... we Mi-Go learned long ago how to transfer our consciousness from our bodies into containers such as the one from which I now speak to you... you are powerless to resist my voice... I shall merely hold you in thrall until Bugg-Shash has reached your vessel*
Each of the crew knew the voice they were hearing spoke the truth. As all of them attempted to resist, struggled to do more than simply stand and stare out the window, Roger told them, *he is a creature of infinite appetite... as he flows over this conveyance, he will consume you all, then follow the trail you have left back to the doorway to your world*
Dollins shook with rage, his mind filled with curses as he attempted to move, to shout, to scream, to do anything but simply listen to the droning voice—
*normally he must be summoned, a beckoning which allows him but one soul at a time. You, however, have provided what he has always wished for, an open invitation to feast on all of humanity*
Filimena trembled, shamed at having been blinded by her own ambition, terrified at what destruction her hubris might cause her world—
*he will glide across the face of your planet, unhampered, removing every last bothersome one of you*
Biggleton filled his mind with mathematical formulas, desperately trying to seize his attention away from the hypnotic influence of the brain within the cylinder—
*and then, when you are removed...*
Stevens went in the other direction, attempting to distract himself from the voice by flooding his mind with anger, hatred for the cylinder and its Mi-Go—
*we shall mine your world in peace, taking what we want, as is our right*
And then, as eight human eyes stared unblinking as the horrific mass of Bugg-Shash grew ever closer, as Roger’s voice laughed within the four human minds its carefully modulated pitch held completely within its sway, suddenly a tremendous crash of metal on metal was heard, and the eight human eyes all blinked as the four human minds were released from their imprisonment.
“Spitz!”
“Ook!”
Realizing the others were being held captive by a force which apparently had no effect on him, the simian mechanic had grabbed up the heaviest tool available on the bridge and brought it down with shattering force on what he felt would prove to be the cylinder’s weakest point.
*no... no*
Again the spanner crashed against Roger, and again and again, until finally the chittering voice faded, and all the others in the room blinked once more, suddenly realizing what had befallen them. Rubbing his eyes, then staring out through the forward windshield, Dollins cried out, “That blasted thing of yours, Biggleton, it pulled a ’oodoo down on us, it did, and brought us straight to that thing what you wanted!”
“Yes,” admitted the scientist contritely, “but now that thing wants us, and not just us, but the whole of humanity.”
“But,” insisted Filimena, “it’s not your fault. As the captain said, the creature within the cylinder had the power to make others do as it wished.”
“Maybe,” answered Biggleton, “or maybe it only had the power to drag others down the road to hells of their own choosing. Whatever the truth of the matter is, the reality before us is that we’re in an acre of trouble with naught but a yard or two of escape before us.”
“We’ve gotten out of worse, we have,” shouted Stevens. Giving the Gibraltar’s wheel a tremendous spin, he brought the airship about, pointing it away from the approaching horror, shouting at the same time, “Spitz! Get down to the engine room. Get those jackanapes down there working!”
“Ook, ook!”
As the mechanic exited at a gallop, Dollins roared into the engine room tube for as much steam as possible.
“Biggleton,” roared Stevens at the same time, “what are you waiting for? Use that stupid machine and swallow that damn thing up! That’s what we came here for—right?”
Gordon Steadwater Biggleton, Master of Extraordinary Weaponry to the Crown, threw the three switches he knew so well in their proper sequence once more, but to no avail.
“It’s not working!”
“Do something!”
“For God’s sake, I’m trying!”
“Well, try something else, mate, because whatever it is you’re trying now, I’m telling you true, it is in no way oilin’ the gears!”
“Oh, my God... Mr. Biggleton, is that... is that... it?”
The scientist fumbled with his machine several times more. Then, realizing Roger must have somehow made certain the device could not reduce the monstrosity heading for them into its basic atoms, instead turned his attentions toward Filimena, asking, “My dear Miss Edgars,
did you follow enough of how that thing led us here? Could you map our way free, figure coordinates back home from inside this morass?”
“I—I believe so,” answered the librarian, “but which coordinates? And worse... no matter where we go, won’t that thing out there simply follow us?”
All eyes turned toward the port window. The horror which was Bugg-Shash was moving toward them with all the speed it could muster, its very motion a thing of diabolical hunger. Its million eyes stared at the Gibraltar, straining, glaring. Its million mouths drooled over the thought of its inhabitants, screamed at them, its hideous sound echoing through the corridors of the ethereal nowhere to which they had been led.
Stevens could feel the airship beginning to surge forward, but the motion made him wonder—what did it matter? They could not lead the horror back to their world. But, where else could they go? What else could they do?
Applejack Stevens was not a coward. He had stared down the length of a rifle into the face of marauding hordes and had not flinched. He had not worried about death when on the line with the regiment, and the idea of giving up the ghost to save the entire world actually had a certain amount of appeal.
But, he could not bear the thought of Filimena Edgars sharing such a fate, having to make the same sacrifice. Then, just as he began to ask Dollins what he thought of the idea of his taking out the Gibraltar’s scout balloon in an attempt to distract the trailing monster so the others might escape, Biggleton shouted, “Miss Edgars, the coordinates we need to reach are latitude 6• 6’7.2”S by longitude 105• 25’22.8”S.”
“But, sir,” the librarian cried out, “the creature will follow us.”
“Then that will be the end of him.” Turning to Dollins and Stevens, the scientist said, “Gentlemen, I have an idea. I do believe we can destroy that creature. I propose this only because these Mi-Go want our world. If we sacrifice ourselves, they will simply try the same stunt repeatedly until they succeed. This is no time for the cowardice of nobility. We must fight back, for the lives of every man, woman and child on the face of the Earth. Are you with me?”
Giving Biggleton a smile, Dollins asked, “Do we ’ave to save the French?”
With the captain’s quip breaking the tension on the bridge, everyone snapped into action. Working completely within her mind, Filimena translated the swirling currents of the ethereal dimension through which the Gibraltar was traveling, plotting the course they would need to follow to reach the coordinates Biggleton had requested. Knowing his pilot could handle the airship on his own, Dollins abandoned the bridge and headed for the engine room to help Spitz keep the crew in line, aware that the sight of him pitching in would help keep any who might be losing their grip to hang on a bit longer.
At the same time, as Stevens and Filimena worked to get the Gibraltar to its necessary destination, Biggleton had taken the triempalator to the lower level of the main gondola. Throwing open the bottom hatch, he stared out into the swirling eddies. Great spiraling whirls of color and disaster pulled at him, cascading arcs of greenly orange lightning splattering wickedly from horizon to horizon, whispering to the scientist, urging him to step off the platform edge, to join in the oneness of the cosmos beyond, to free himself of flesh and breath and the useless weight of his hindering soul—
“Stevens,” Biggleton roared, calling into the communication tube leading to the bridge, “are we there yet?”
“Soon,” came Filimena’s voice in response. “I assume there is some manner of disturbance there that will open a gateway back to our world?”
“I believe so,” answered the scientist. Closing his eyes against the nightmarish atmosphere outside the airship, he continued, saying, “Before our departure the ministry received a quite routine report from our people in the area of Indonesia. Seems there was some volcanic activity going on in the area. If it’s enough to match the disturbance a typhoon can cause, then—”
And, opening his eyes, Biggleton shouted, “Yes! It is! There’s a rift opening ahead of us. Head for it, Stevens. Go straight into it, fast as possible. And once we’re through, don’t stop for anything!”
The Gibraltar lurched forward, moving as fast as it ever had, Applejack Stevens’ steady hand manipulating the wheel ever so slightly left, then right, making certain the airship would slip through the expanding crack he could see growing in the distance. He was not certain how such things were happening, why no one had ever reported observing one before. But, he did not care. All he knew was they had one chance for survival and he threw all his concentration into making certain they succeeded.
Below the pilot, Biggleton prepared the triempalator. Moving it to the very edge of the hatchway, he held the machine as steady as possible, leaning over the opening, watching, waiting for the moment when they would pass through the dimensional rift, needing to time his next actions to the precise split-second which would mean the difference between victory or defeat for all mankind.
Behind both the pilot and the scientist, however, the swirling madness known as Bugg-Shash was drawing ever closer to the Gibraltar. The creature was not in a tremendous hurry, the meal offered by the racing speck before it was little more than a mote. But still, eternal hunger being what it was, the thing continued onward, relaxing in the knowledge that in no more than a few more seconds it would overcome and consume the fleeing appetizer.
Staring out the opening, Biggleton made certain the triempalator’s three switches were in their upright position, then moved the white and yellow to the opposite setting. As he did so, the device’s opposing aperture opened once more. Then, suddenly the atmosphere changed, the dark and screeching ether all about them shifting to the familiar steamy blue of home. Smelling heat, tasting smoke, the scientist watched for the volcanic mouth he knew would have to come into sight at any second.
And then, sensing the boiling red glow before he could actually see it, Biggleton depressed the red toggle once, and released all the remaining ectoplasmic energy his device contained into the raging mouth of Krakatoa.
Several Weeks Later
Although they had been able to transverse thousands of miles quite quickly within the jurisdiction of the other dimension, once returned to the world they knew, those aboard the Gibraltar found themselves once more bound by the natural laws to which they were more familiar. Reaching England once more, the airship’s crew had bid a civil, if not fond, farewell to Biggleton, sending him off to make his report to the Queen, and reminding him of the debt still owed to the Gibraltar Company, Ltd.
The scientist acknowledged his debt to them all, taking enough time to make certain Filimena knew that he felt she could still be very valuable to the Ministry of Extraordinary Weapons. Letting her know that her office was still hers if she so desired it, Biggleton made proper goodbyes to both the captain and to Stevens, told Spitz he expected a chance to win back the one hundred and fifteen pounds he had lost to the mechanic playing cribbage, and then had taken his leave.
Resting after their adventure, sharing a much needed dinner in a quiet restaurant where they might be waited upon, and pampered in a manner which might actually allow them to forget some of the horrors they had so recently escaped, Dollins, Filimena and Stevens ate with hearty appetites. Relaxing afterwards with brandy and cigars, an activity which would have shocked Filimena’s family if they were to discover her indulgence, the three amused themselves with attempting to blow smoke rings at one another. Finally, however, the librarian turned the evening toward the somber, informing the others, “I had a communication from Mr. Biggleton this morning. Seems news has been coming in from the East.”
“About the volcano?”
“Yes. It seems the entire island was disintegrated by the blast. It was so powerful it created a tidal wave that swept over both Java and Sumatra. Hundreds of towns were destroyed. Tens of thousands lost their lives.”
“Well, that’s the way of things,” said Dollins matter-of-factly. “Those Mi-Go blokes what targeted the Earth, Biggleton was righ
t in the end. It’s a shame all them innocent blokes ’ad to meet their maker premature like, but like ’e said, even if we would’ve sacrificed ourselves, they’d just’ve found some other chump what would ’ave gotten the human race right back in the soup all over again.”
“It’s true,” agreed Stevens. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. Don’t forget, we almost died with them Sumatrans and the such ourselves, you know.”
“I know,” admitted the librarian.
“That being the case,” asked the pilot, “tell me, what else do you know? Are you going to keep on at the ministry?”
“Oh, I think not,” answered Filimena. Teasingly, she continued, saying, “I mean, look at its name—the Ministry of Extraordinary Weapons. Those initials, M, E, W... why, every time someone abbreviates the name there, they sound like cats calling to one another.”
Dollins smiled at the young woman’s comment. Stevens chuckled in relief. Then, just as their waiter returned to inquire as to whether or not they would require anything else, Filimena asked, “Gentlemen, I’ve been wondering, why is it Spitz was able to act when none of us could?”
“My guess is, my dear,” answered Dollins, “that that there Roger thing ’ad set itself to controllin’ human minds and ’adn’t counted on anyone like Spitzie bein’ aboard.”
“Lucky we were to have him along once again, I suppose,” admitted the librarian. “He certainly did know the right thing to do.”
“Yeah, clobbered that thing good, he did.”
“By the way,” asked Filimena, crushing out the last of her cigar in the table’s ashtray, “what kind of tool was it Spitz used to destroy the cylinder?”
“Why, what else,” answered Stevens, preparing to duck, “a monkey wrench, of course.”
The Ghost of Løve VanMeek
James Daniel Ross
In the beginning there were the words. A million jumbled collections of letters lit up behind my eyes like endless stars. I felt them move, rotating inside my personal universe as each shed a feeble light which combined to form the mighty dawn of my awareness. The sound of metal on metal tickled at what could be called my ears. I did not open my eyes—I had no eyelids—but I became sensitive to the world beyond me.
Clockwork Chaos Page 25