Into the Fourth Universe

by Robert Wingfield

  “Of course. Six…”

  “Sir?”

  “Get yourself a uniform from the quartermaster and for Phoist’s sake remove that belt before it accidentally goes off and we end up having to do our own washing again.”

  * * *

  “Corporal.”

  Caryl looked up from the steaming tub of soldiers’ underwear she was stirring from as far away as she could manage. “Commander?”

  “We are moving out in 60 minutes. Finish up here and report to the battle lines for disembarkation.”

  “What about the pants, sir?”

  “Their owners will be along to collect. Tip out the water and leave them on the grass to drain.”

  * * *

  When Caryl re-joined the army, the amphibious vehicles had already been winched down the cliff on to the eastern beach, and the invasion force was gathered ready for the journey. She attached herself to the last squad of soldiers to visit her pant pile, and was amused at the damp patches showing through the uniforms as they made their way uncomfortably down the cliff path. An adjutant saluted smartly, and asked her if she would be kind enough to join the General in the lead vehicle. She complied reluctantly, but was encouraged when she saw Gough at Antarn’s side.

  “Well?” Antarn helped her into the armoured car. The two men were poring over a map pinned to the dashboard. It had a plan of the island and an expanse of sea; nothing else. “Where do we go? Can you fill in some blanks?” He handed her a marker pen.

  “This way, sir.” She drew what she could remember of the coastline. If we head due east and then change course towards east-south-east by a few degrees every five miles, we should be there in three hours or so.”

  “Sixty miles?”

  “Not really sir. You see I believe that we’re moving between universes, so it could be any distance.”

  “So be it.” He spoke to the driver. “Let’s get the fleet moving. I hope we have enough fuel.”

  Two hours later the armada was still skimming across a smooth sea. Antarn was getting impatient. “Where is this blasted place, Corporal?”

  “Not far now, sir.” Caryl was beginning to feel uneasy. Suppose the portal had closed and they were only heading further and further out to sea, in the same universe.

  “Why can’t I see signs of any cliffs yet then?”

  Caryl thought quickly. “It’s the portal, sir. After we cross the boundary, things should start to become visible.”

  “They better had. Leading an army into an empty ocean is a court martial offence.”

  “Along with just about everything else,” Caryl thought silently. She had been given a list of things not to do, including exposing one’s bottom to a senior officer (she had been very careful in the tent she was now sharing with Gough), calling a fellow soldier ‘mate’, and wearing the wrong hat, being only a few of the offences she could remember. It was no surprise to her that the entire army had been more than courteous once she had donned the uniform. Apparently their behaviour did not extend to non-military personnel though; rape, theft and murder were actively encouraged, a legacy from the old country. Caryl silently thanked Gough for his foresight in getting her a posting, albeit in such a role.

  She shivered as they went through a cloud of mist, but the sun was soon on them again, and there in the distance were the cliffs of their destination. A cheer went up from the surrounding boats.

  “Time to kick ass,” said Antarn. “Pass me the field glasses and I’ll find somewhere to land. Recommendations, Corporal?”

  “There sir.” With relief Caryl recognised a sandy beach she used to play on as a child. “There’s plenty of space and it won’t be defended.” She thought to herself, “Who would bother defending it anyway? Now how the hell am I going to escape before they find out that the place has already been devastated?”

  The fleet had landed without incident. A number of tanks and other armoured vehicles and field guns had been unloaded and Caryl was still being held close to Antarn. Gough had disappeared to run his own unit, assuring her that she had nothing to fear, being now protected by military law… unless she tried to escape. Despite the threatened court martial for that particular transgression, she was desperate to leave the army, and looked for opportunities at every turn. In the daylight though, every move she made was watched. The soldiers were mostly men, and the other women in the army were almost more like men than the men themselves. Caryl was a celebrity for the drooling troops. Fortunately for them, thoughts about what they would like to do with her were not punishable. Her other problem was that she had hoped they would make camp after the journey and then only discover the mess the country was in after she had made a run for it, but it was not going to be so. As they came across the first of the villages that the original Antarn had destroyed while he was chasing her, her heart sank.

  “So this is it?” Antarn frowned at her. “This is civilisation?”

  “I’m afraid so, sir.” Caryl fingered the pistol at her side, ready to shoot him, or herself if things got any worse.

  “These houses…”

  “Yes sir, I’m sorry but…”

  “They’re a lot more intact than I expected. Did you try to play down the sophistication of the people on the mainland?”

  “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “Back in our universe, these would be considered as luxury. I’m glad we came. The spoils are going to be rich, without a doubt.”

  Allan switches off a Hairdryer

  A

  llan stood obsequiously before his companion. “Your Eminence?”

  “What do you want, you inconsequential worm?” The smoking android still appeared to be in one piece.

  “I’ve been thinking, while you were blowing yourself up…”

  “A good start.”

  “As ‘High Shenh of the Third Universe’, surely you need a minion?”

  “Why would we want one of those?”

  Allan settled into his patter. Why sell windows, when he could sell himself? “Imagine if you will, that you are sitting in your space-machine and doing really great things, as befits one of your brilliance…”

  “Of course.”

  “Who will see those great things? Who will document your activities for history students? Who will be able to admire your genius? Who will tell you how clever you are? Who will announce you when you arrive in new places and need to impress the locals? Who will explain what you are doing for the benefit of the reader, or watcher if this adventure ever got made into a film?”

  “We will announce ourselves. We will explain, ourselves, what we are doing so that the uninformed reader stroke watcher is not kept in the dark. We will tell said subject the extent of our genius.”

  “I beg to disagree, Your Majesty, but it’s a noteworthy fact that if you have to tell people how great you are, then you are probably not as great as you would like to be.”

  “Though we hate to say it, you may be right. We will find some grovelling nematode to perform that service. We also agree that without an underling, we will be muttering clever things but with nobody to explain them to.”

  “Permission to be that grovelling nematode, Your Greatness?”

  “It has to be advertised externally first, of course. We have to follow the correct protocols even if there is already a qualified candidate.”

  “Oh.” Allan was concerned again. He had been getting his hopes up that he might be able to leave the planet and continue to shag the glorious creature. “Advertise externally?”

  “Yes, it is a standard process in order to waste people’s time with all the application paperwork, get their hopes up and then cruelly dash them to the ground when we appoint the person who is already doing that job. It all serves to keep the great unwashed totally demoralised, and boosts the illegal drugs industry…”

  “Boosts the drugs industry?”

  “Yes, people invariably turn to the solace they offer, as an alternative to w
orking, which of course explains why there are so many addicts and dropouts.”

  “Hmmm, failed job applications… I completely understand now that you have explained it.” Allan punched home his point. “You see, Your Majesty, you do need a minion to ask you to explain statements like that; I should come along as acting nematode perhaps?”

  “We suppose so… until someone better turns up, which will probably be the very first applicant.”

  “Brilliant; your astuteness is befitting such a great ruler.” He took a breath… “And don’t forget that as nematode and minion, I have to perform the standard sexual rites befitting one of your magnitude.”

  “We are unaware of that particular role, but we will consider.”

  * * *

  Kara and Allan had made their way back into the Cylinder. The android rubbed her hands together. “We have decided we need to re-enter the Third Universe and take our rightful place as ruler. Who knows what has been happening in our absence.”

  “Of course, Your Masterfulness; are you sure that you don’t want me to perform those sexual rituals I was outlining on the way back?”

  “They will have to wait. You can content yourself watching our brilliance in action.”

  “Thank you Your Majesty. I will sit here by your side with my hand on your thigh then, as befits First Nematode in your retinue.”

  “Yes, good, now let us see if we can remember how to get this thing moving.” She pressed a button and the lights went out. “Worm?”

  “Yes your Invisible-ness.”

  “Get us the emergency photon device.”

  “What?”

  “It should be in a clip under the console.”

  “This?” Allan detached the torch and switched it on.

  “Yes. Now we are having trouble with the isolinear coprocessor. We think there are thoron emissions in the plasma field… oh no.”

  “What? Are you okay?” Allan stood up and shone the torch on to the console. “The backlighting seems to have failed.”

  “That is what we said… We think the bi-continuous, non-porous electrodes have discharged.”

  “So the battery is flat. How did that happen?”

  “We may have left the frenzied stirring atmosphere tress aqua displacement device engaged.”

  “I’ll go and find the hairdryer then.” He left the android sitting in the dark and went over to the recess which would take him to the upper level. The gravity tube entirely failed to work. “Um, how do I get up to the bedroom when the power’s off?”

  “There is an emergency progressive manual elevation unit behind the panel.”

  Allan located the ladder and climbed up to the bedroom, the torch in his teeth. He found the offending device and disengaged its electron reactive processing unit, using the switch marked ‘off’. The lights came back on, dimly. “Right, I think her ladyship is suffering from belated shell-shock. I wonder if I dare risk another of those resets.”

  “What, we heard that?”

  “My lady...” Allan stepped back in to the tube to the control room and plummeted. “Ow!” He regarded the android at the console. “I think your greatness is suffering from a nasty attack of traumatic techno-babble.”

  “How dare you say that? We will remove you from our noble presence with the use of our hydrogen reaction projectile appliance.”

  “See what I mean. Please put your gun away.”

  “Nonsense, once the propulsion units are replenished with gravitons, we are going to relocate our matter dissolution transport vehicle and reclaim our rightful place...” She paused, seemingly reflecting. “Oh, we now understand what you are saying.”

  “More than most people,” muttered Allan.

  “We heard that, toad.”

  * * *

  The Cylinder materialised in a charred patch of ‘Rosa Baccara’ in the main square of a ruined city. The hatch slid open and Allan stepped out into the fetid atmosphere. “Subjects,” he announced to the crowds of eager people who were not there to meet them. “Behold the return of the High Shenh of the Third Universe.”

  Kara followed him out. “Are you taking the piss? This is not how we remembered it. Where are our subjects?”

  Allan stared round at the devastation, clouds of smoke and fires still burning. “I guess they are all out at the moment.”

  “What has happened to our Shenhdom?”

  “We appear to have had an exothermic reaction pattern here.”

  “Are you still taking the piss?”

  “As if… Look out, Your Eminence, we appear to have company at last.” Allan pointed to a group of scruffy singed people who had emerged from one of the streets. “Perhaps they will be pleased to see you.”

  “You may be correct, worm. Announce us.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” Allan stepped forward and held a hand up in greeting. “Ladies and gentlemen, if that’s what you actually are, please be upstanding for your supreme ruler, the High Shenh of the Universe.”

  “Supreme ruler eh?” A ragged filthy creature who may have been their leader stepped forward. “Like that last mad bastard we had?”

  “No, not like that last one.” Allan knew nothing of the history, but ad-libbed adequately. “This one is benevolent and gorgeous and sexy and available—everything you are looking for in a charismatic leader.”

  “Is she now?” The man peered at Kara with distaste. “She seems a bit clean to be one of us.”

  “I’m sure she will smear down quite nicely if it bothers you.”

  “Does she speak for herself?” The man eyed the High Shenh suspiciously.

  “I am her minion and official spin locum. I can answer your questions.” He looked back to see Kara impatiently tapping her foot.

  “Good. Then what is her manifesto?” The man folded his arms. His fellows crowded round.

  “She is High Shenh. Is that not enough?”

  “As you are obviously a recent visitor…”

  “How do you know?”

  “You are not covered in soot. Can I continue?”

  Allan nodded. “Fair observation. Go on.”

  “Good, because you will need to know this, and as a tourist, I will give you the benefit of enlightenment.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “For the moment anyway.” The threat barely registered before the leader continued. “Since that previous ruler nearly shut down the whole universe, we have been in a power struggle with the remains of the military. As you can see from the state of this place, we have spruced it up a lot since then. We allowed the survivors of the army to depart for a better place, so we are now in sole control, and we were having a rather good party. To the Republic!” He produced a paper bag containing a bottle and took a swig.

  “To the Republic. Long live the Republic.” His companions toasted him with cans of ‘Extraordinary Fermentation’ and other similar disgusting beverages.

  He wiped his mouth with the back of a filthy hand. “The idea of the Shenh being replaced was the army thing. We have no desire whatsoever to have one back, even,” he glanced at the delectable form of the android, “something like her.”

  “Oh.”

  “So take your ideas of Shenhdom and autocracy back into your silly box, and bugger off.”

  “Her Majesty won’t like it.”

  “Tough.”

  “I’ll tell her then, shall I?”

  “Do that.”

  Allan retraced his steps to where the android was picking at her nails. “I’m afraid they don’t want a new Shenh here, Your Ingenuity.”

  Kara’s face went black as her outrage control systems failed. “We will see about that.” She strode purposely towards the group of ‘republicans’. “Right you scum, listen up. We are the High Shenh of the Third Universe and you will bow down to us and grovel on the floor as our loyal subjects.”

  “Will we? Cop this then, Your Delusional-ness.”

  As one, the group produced
hand weapons and opened fire. Owing to the stage of the party they had interrupted, the aim was erratic—laser bolts went everywhere. Kara was still standing bewildered when a few found their mark. She wavered on her feet, staring in bewilderment at the burn marks on her dress.

  “Come on Your Majesty. I think that we’re not welcome here.” Allan dragged her out of the firing line and back into the Cylinder.

  “Feisty bunch aren’t they,” muttered the android as her eyes flickered closed. “You had best get us into the regeneration unit while you work on an improved strategy to boost our popularity.”

  Some Genitals Explode

  T

  he Magus stood up and brushed himself down. He smiled as he remembered the first rule of investigation: always wear a big coat (especially when that coat is lined with Electro-Psycho-Kevlar: ‘A new feather-light garment lining; guaranteed to resist limited bursts from plasma, spiritual and projectile weapons, or your money back.’) It had cost and arm and a leg, but the missing appendages were worth it (especially as he had lopped them off the Quadrillipod storekeeper while he was stealing the material.) “Oh Phoist. Ludwig...” What had happened to his friend in the hallway? Had he managed to get all the men, or had they got him? He took the steps two at a time and skidded to a halt on the hall carpet. The big Charman was where he had left him. He was not moving. “Oh no!” The Magus shook him. The chair creaked. The man’s eyes flickered open.

  “Wo bin ich?”

  “Ludwig. Are you all right?”

  “Natürlich. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “What?”

  “I was having a lovely sleep, dreaming of my dear Marlene.”

  “Who?”

  “My wife.”

  “I didn’t know you were married.”

  “Oh yes—we used to get on pleasingly.”

  “Used to? I’m sorry, has she passed on?”

  “Ja, to a better place; she spends all her time now in quiet contemplation of shopping catalogues and TV channels. She took to collecting porcelain pachyderms, and has quite a collection now.”