Rage of the Ancient Gods

by Craig Robertson

  In that timeline, life on Earth ended before anyone could party like it was 1999. And when the planet was dead, the six death mongers allowed Quixot to select the next epoch to visit, and they were off.

  SEVEN

  “Neutral matter? Are you certain that is what Wul said?” Toño was utterly gobsmacked.

  “Yes. Want me to play back the audio?”

  “No, I suppose I am just so vexed to hear those words my credulity needs to catch up with my current state of mind. Jon, in all of my very long life I've never conceived of a third state of matter. I've never heard any species, even the Deavoriath, predict such a thing.”

  “Well now you have something to occupy your free time,” I returned. “Create a theory and put a large quantity in my hands. No hurry. Take all the time you need. I won't start nagging you, hounding, you, badgering you for two-three days.”

  “Very droll.”

  “I was being serious. Doc, we cannot allow any more of these two-bit gods to make it to our universe. The vortex has to be destroyed.”

  “Honey,” Sapale spoke up, “while I support your intent one hundred percent, there is one issue I fear I must mention. If we ex the vortex, how do we get home?”

  I angled my head. “Maybe we don't.”

  “So we stay here, what, forever and a day waiting to be uncovered as frauds and tortured beyond the limits of imagination?”

  “It is a looming possibility.”

  “Not such a pleasant one,” she replied.

  “But I find great reassurance in the fact we all have two fusion generators in our chest cavities. If we drop the shielding around the plasma cores, we won't have to worry about a goldarn thing ever again.” I tried to sound convincing.

  “Suicide? That's your fallback plan?” she accused more than stated.

  “It'll be on a case-by-case basis. To each his or her own, I always say.”

  “Let's end this macabre discussion, please. I find it disquieting in the extreme. If I don't come up with this neutral matter, your moral debate doesn't matter,” chastised Toño.

  “True,” Sapale responded. “So, you need any special place or supplies to pull off a miracle, Toño?”

  “Yes, I require access to Cragforel and his research lab. I also need an aspirin.”

  “Okay, Doc, we'll call that Plan A. Any updates on a Plan B yet?” I was able to ask with a straight face.

  “Yes. Plan B begins with you two leaving me alone immediately. Beyond that I'll have to get back to you.” He stuck out his tongue. Never seen him do that before. Maybe he was serious? Maybe I was just rubbing off on him, the lucky dog?

  “There's a restaurant/club not too far from here. Let's all go there. Doc, you can work in one of the side rooms reserved for privacy,” I said with a wink.

  “I hope I can find one that isn't sticky this time.”

  “Let's make that our thought for the day,” I concluded as we left.

  While Doc eggheaded in a freshly cleaned room, Sapale and I ordered up a proper banquet. No way around it, free, limitless, and delectable food from any time or place was an upside to being an ancient god. For her part Sapale had a vast assortment of Kaljaxian delicacies. Cubes of racdal fat, steamed grains from home, and, because there was no justice in Heaven, all seven forms of calrf, each more rank than the one before it.

  What did I have? What was my dream meal? Here's a hint. You'll never guess. I had five Pronto Pups and five Cheese Rarebits. Never heard of them? Then you missed something truly superb. I had them as a kid when we visited San Francisco, back when there was a San Francisco. Pronto Pups were not corn dogs. They were what corn dogs aspired to be but could never rise to the level of. And the rarebits were basically deep-fried batter-coated sticks of Velveeta cheese. A corn dog minus the dog, substitute American cheese. A ton of yum. Those ten representatives of culinary excellence were my if-I'm-going-to-die-tomorrow delights. That and too much mustard slathered on opposite sides of the Pups. Heaven on a stick, I tell you. Heaven on a stick.

  After we ate we told Toño we were going out for some air. I wanted to take a good look at the vortex again. Not that I had any notion of affecting it. I just wanted to study my enemy. Maybe inspiration would strike. It was far enough away that we hailed a cab, something my wife was never excited about. Her species was a bit more concrete-minded than ours. Weird-ass forms of transportation were outside her comfort zone.

  What did her reluctant acceptance yield? Our ride was a woolly mammoth that spoke a dialect of Prüm, a language used on parts of Alpha-Lyra 7. Sure, it was totally reasonable. The planet orbited a star twenty-five light-years from the nearest of those long-extinct pachyderms in a different universe. The long and short of it? Color Sapale unhappy.

  As we approached the vortex we headed for the spot Vorc had occupied earlier at the egress ceremony. Though the crowd was much decreased since that aborted attempt, there were still a goodly number of folks wandering about. Some appeared to be spectators like us, while others seemed to be in some manner attempting to fix the infernal manifestation. The ones who were laboring were mostly humanoid and were all dressed in dark formal-looking robes, like a monk or Druid priest. They bowed and doted at the swirling mass and I definitely heard chanting. I had no idea if they had any idea if their interventions had any hope for success. I elected not to inquire.

  Without realizing it Sapale and I were holding hands, standing there as close to the vortex as it seemed safe. The vortex didn't give off the vibe of say a weather pattern, like a tornado. But I sensed malevolence from it, hunger, and corruption. If I stopped breathing and listened very hard I could swear I heard voices. Some called out in horror while others seemed to be speaking, but the words and the languages were unidentifiable. There was nothing resembling an attempt at friendly communication. Whatever the vortex was, no matter how big it was, it was definitely associated with the dark side. If it had been functional I know it would have reached out and pulled us both in.

  “Jon, let's go. This thing creeps me out big time.”

  “Me too. Just a sec. I want to try getting a clearer picture of its nature.”

  “No.”

  “Huh?”

  “That's the last line a crazy person says before he does something stupid like try and attach probe fibers to it.”

  “Didn't you mean to say before he or she does something stupid?”

  “No, because I was referring only to you.”

  “That's crazy talk, hon. I'd never do something stupid.” The second I finished I shot my probe fibers into the center of the maelstrom.

  “No, Jo …” She didn't even get a chance to finish her cry.

  The fibers bounced lazily, churning around the vortex's center. With my free hand I gestured to the non-event and grinned at Sapale.

  With zero warning the fibers snapped taut. I was pulled roughly toward the center. Try as I might I couldn't slow my advance. Sapale wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled. That barely slowed me down. I felt like I'd hooked a twenty-meter white shark on light tackle. I was jerked and tossed forward.

  “Can you jettison your probes?” Sapale screamed into my ear.

  “No idea. It's never come up,” I shouted back.

  “Do it,” she yelled.

  I closed my eyes and focused. Release me, I said to the probes.

  The answer back was not what I anticipated. Not in infinity. “Nooooo, Jonnnn Rrrryannnn.”

  “What?” I screamed straight ahead.

  “No onnnnnne mayyyyy injurrrrre meeemee ananand liiive.” The voice was clear but did not seem to be spoken by vocal cords. Speech was foreign to it.

  To my hand I thought, Release the origins of the probes.

  And they slipped free. Sapale and I fell backward, tumbling like we were in a Keystone Cops skit. We came to rest on our sides, staring up at the vortex. It seemed much more energetic than it had been just before I tried to sample it.

  “It figures,” quipped Sapale.

  “What?�
� I defended.

  “You're so annoying you can piss off the weather.”

  “Let's get back to Toño.”

  “Now sensible words exit your mouth,” she replied as she fell in behind my rapid pace.

  “Please don't demand results,” leapt from Toño's lips before I was fully through the doorway.

  “No, his tail's between his legs,” said Sapale, pointing. “See?”

  He looked up from his tablet and inspected me as he moved toward us. “He looks none the worse for wear.”

  Ask him to show you his probe fibers,” she snarked.

  “Show me your probe fibers,” he parroted.

  “Sure. No prob actually. You'll just have to come with me to the vortex and hope it hasn't finished slurping them up yet.”

  “Somehow I think I'm not going to enjoy the rest of this tale,” he responded, setting down his tablet.

  “You'll love it, Doc, because you're a man of science. I've just pushed back the darkness of prior ignorance.”

  “At the cost of your fibers?”

  “We all carry spares,” I responded with a weak grin.

  “Yes we do. Why don't you take a seat here and let me begin replacing your fibers while you tell my why I'm needing to do so.”

  I sat, extended my hand, and he opened up my wrist compartment. “Hmm.”

  “'Sat a good hmm or a hmm hmm?”

  “It's a hmm, you idiot. Be quiet while I test the remaining system.” He attached his fibers and I felt some tingling.

  Idiot seemed pretty harsh. I'd let it pass because we were such old friends.

  “They were released cleanly. There is a mechanism for that to occur, but up until now I've never come across an occasion where the fibers needed to be ejected.”

  “Oh, my goodness,” moaned Sapale.

  “What?” Toño and I snapped in concert.

  “This is going to be so good. Wait, wait. Let me pull up a chair.” And she did just that.

  “Jon, why did you need to release your command prerogatives?”

  “I can answer that.”

  “Encouraging,” replied Toño in a measured tone.

  “I was unable to free the ends so I had to jettison them.”

  “Interesting on two levels. First, the obvious question. Did you know you could eject the fibers?”

  I chuckled unconvincingly. “I do now.”

  “The answer to question one is no,” helped Sapale.

  “What were they attached to that wouldn't release them?”

  “I bet you're going to tell me that's impossible, right?” I tried to sound upbeat.

  “If you’d asked me five minutes ago, I'd have staked my life it was.”

  “Well then you're welcome for the continuing education I have been …”

  “What wouldn't release the fibers, Jon?” His voice was definitely louder.

  “You know that vortex, the one the ancients are trying to use to leave?”

  “Is there another vortex I know of that I'm forgetting about?”

  “Well, see, only you could tell me that. I'm not inside your …”

  “It's the one and only vortex currently in our lives, Toño,” further helped my wife.

  “I'm hoping the next thing you're about to say is that you were walking toward the vortex, tripped, and accidentally fired your probes into the vortex.”

  I shook a finger at him emphatically. “That is exactly what happened, Sapale as my witness.”

  “Is that true, Sapale?”

  “Yes. I witnessed this knucklehead shoot his probes into the vortex.”

  “On accident?”

  “Yes. The accident being how stupid he is.”

  “As I suspected.”

  “But you can replace them?” I pressed.

  “Yes. Once. But you only carry one spare of those.”

  He reached to release a storage compartment under my left arm. Daintily he removed a small packet and closed me back up. He took the fibers out and confirmed they were working well with his own probes.

  “Excellent,” he said to himself. “This won't take long.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So you’d better speak quickly telling me what happened.” He looked up sternly at me. “Recall please that I'm quite busy.”

  “Well, I decided to probe the vortex.”

  He stopped and reflected on those words. “Not completely moronic.”

  “Thanks. I knew you'd support my inquiry.”

  “What happened?”

  “At first the cords bounced around limp. Then it was like a marlin hit the bait and dove deep.”

  “I held on to him but couldn't really slow him down,” added Sapale.

  “I wonder why the vortex cared to force you into it when it's barely functional?” he wondered out loud.

  “Ah, interesting story, that one,” I replied rather sheepishly.

  “With you it always is,” Toño responded tersely.

  “It doesn't like him,” peppered in Sapale.

  “A swirling vortex of neutral doesn't like you?” Toño either asked or stated. Not sure which it was, but either way he was incredulous.

  “It's not my fault,” I defended.

  “No, it never is,” scorned Toño.

  “Seriously, Doc, the pinwheel has attitude. Personally I think it harbors deep emotional scars, but I'm merely speculating in that regard.”

  “Toño, I hold you responsible for what my brood-mate just said. You allowed him to have oatmeal for brains when you created him.”

  “I shall go to confession at my first opportunity and try to make amens.”

  “Boy, you two are real hoots,” I observed. “I nearly get swallowed by a lunatic cloud and you're all laughs and giggles.”

  “What gave you the impression it disliked you?” asked Toño.

  “When it wouldn't let go, I said release. I was speaking to my probes, but the vortex addressed me by name and said, No one may injure me and live.”

  “Can you confirm that, my dear?” Toño asked of Sapale.

  “No. I wasn't privy to the conversation.”

  “It said it real creepy too. Lots of hisses and mispronunciations. Sloppy grammar if you ask me.”

  “Thank you for the details. They do not help at all,” responded Toño with a sigh.

  “What's the sigh for?” I pointed to myself with both hands. “Almost killed here.”

  “Don't you see how this confounds our already tenuous position?”

  “I don't know. I thought we were running pretty close to zero as it was. Hard to imagine our fortunes have any downward mobility.”

  “Jon, if we were to ever wish to leave this wretched land, how were we to do that?”

  “I think the only way out is the only way …” I angled my head. “Oh my.”

  “Oh my indeed,” he responded smugly.

  “Maybe if I hid between you two it wouldn't know it was me sneaking through?”

  “Certainly. It's possible the immensely powerful sentient-immortal force is prone to slipshod screening,” replied Toño.

  “Not too likely, is it?”

  “Well I say it simplifies our situation considerably,” proclaimed Sapale.

  “This had ought to be good,” I mumbled.

  “If the damn vortex would eat you instead of letting you pass, you can't leave. If you can't leave, I'm sure as hell staying. Toño too.” She pointed to him. “So we don't need to worry about an exit strategy any longer.” She crossed her arms.

  “Interesting observation, my dear. It certainly does …”

  “No way. If there's a chance for you two to get home and warn people, to pass along all that we know, you gotta do it. Period.”

  They both looked at me blankly.

  “I'm serious. I'll stay behind and continue the good fight as long as I'm able. But the universe needs every break it can get. That means you two must return if you get a chance.” I tried to sound inspirational.

  “Okay,” said Toño dis
missively, “I have a lot to do and little time to do it. Let me know if Jon pisses off any other forces of nature.”

  “Will do. I'll be at the bar attempting to set a record if you need me,” replied Sapale as she turned to leave.

  I stood there staring at the top of Toño's head, his attention having returned to his analysis.

  “I'll be in …”

  I was freed of the necessity to let Toño know where I'd be by his waving of the back of his hand in my direction.

  EIGHT

  Walpracta skimmed across the forest floor. She had been on this new planet for several days. She'd learned its name was Selemmi. The majority of the sentients on Selemmi were humanoids that called themselves the Anco Chatta. The children of god. She couldn't help giggling once again at the irony. They may have thought of themselves as the children of some god. But it was tremendously clear already that no god thought of them as his children. No parent would have allowed Walpracta to do one percent of what she had if he, she, or it was paying the slightest attention.

  When she marched a million of them into the sea and they drowned, no god saved them. When she tossed a million of them into a boiling volcano, no god came to their defense. And when she managed to force half a million to eat half a million of their kin alive, no god interceded. Perdition's sake, she giggled, when she consumed the remaining half million, what god would stand still and allow it to pass? Sure, a Cleinoid would, but presumably the Anco Chatta weren't dumb enough to worship one of those. Talk about having a self-destructive death wish.

  The weather was pleasant and time abounded. There were swarms of inhabitants of Selemmi to torment, brutalize, and kill. Life was good. She could not help herself. She giggled once again. Then she smelled smoke. It wasn't from a city she'd torched. There were no oily or plasticky elements to the smoke. And there were no traces of charred flesh either. No, this was a cooking fire. She snorted a giggle. Hello. Some fool didn't notice the death and devastation, the rolling path of desolation across the face of this dying world? She rested a pincer on the top of a leg.

  Out loud she mocked, “Golly gee. The devil herself is ruining my planet. I think I'll just stop and have me a nice barbecue. No way the destroyer will see or smell the smoke, or possibly see the fire.”