“What if I told you our entire universe was at stake? What if I said that if I didn't find a way to stop an unstoppable enemy we—you, me, and that whatever it is over there—will all be dead, gone, and forgotten?”
“You have told me that many times. Far too many in fact. I hate weak excuses as much as I hate you. Up until now I have asked nicely. If you do not depart I will ask not nicely.”
“Losing those eyes and the hand are nice attempts?” EJ responded with incredulity.
“In my book they were cordial. Overly so, it would seem.”
“Well until I …”
“Ah, excuse me,” I said sheepishly. Whoever EJ was arguing with was most imposing and intimidating. Plus she wore sacred robes. When I was a kid my mom taught me to never hit a girl or a preacher. This large cat was both. “I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?”
The Liolipod spun on me with hunger in her eyes. Oh boy. Then she did an almost comical double take between me and EJ and back. “Are you twins? I shall say a prayer for your mother.”
“No, more like good friends, except we don't like each other much,” I responded cheerily.
“You are clones. I can see and hear it,” she growled.
Mirraya stepped in front of me. She was still in her Deft-humanoid form. “Sister of the Cloistered Tower, I am Mirraya, a Deft brindas. I would ask your indulgence and welcome.” She then bowed deeply.
Seven Ways' shoulders relaxed a bit. “Surely there are no brindas of Locinar left in the galaxy.”
Mirri smiled as she transformed into a somewhat smaller version of the Liolipod, minus any clothes of course. Arg. There we went with the nakedness again.
“It is true,” marveled the monk. “You, sister of Locinar, are eternally welcome here.” The Liolipod returned the deep bow. “I am Sister Seven Ways, a humble monk of this order, and I am at your service.”
“Thank you, kindred spirit. We will not derail you long from your important work. We have come only to retrieve our … our associate here.” Mirri gestured to EJ.
“Then I am twice blessed this day. I have met a brindas and this mongrel will depart,” she turned to address EJ, “never to return.”
“I am honored to be of such utility,” responded Mirraya.
“Gee gosh golly, I love being the butt of everyone's insults and abuse,” wheezed EJ.
“You say you're leaving now?” pressed Seven Ways.
Back on Stingray, we all crowded around the mess table. Daleria, Toño, Sapale, Slapgren, Mirraya, EJ, and me. Ragtag was a word that kept flashing in my head.
“I see you got my message,” EJ remarked to Mirri.
“Yes, and please never send it again. Your instant, painful, and irreversible death will ensue.”
“Not a problem,” he replied. “I'll never focus magical attention on your butt again.”
Slapgren began to rise. He was someone no one wanted mad at them. Mirri forced him back down with a hand on his shoulder.
“Okay,” I said quickly so as to avoid a duel, “we came. Why did you call us? And it better be good, by the way. We can probably only transfer to and from that universe twice more.”
“It's better than good. It's the solution we were looking for,” EJ replied smugly.
“The solution to what, Jon?” asked Toño. He was the only one who still saw EJ as a friend. No wonder, I guess. He created the both of us.
“To how to eliminate the Cleinoid threat once, for all, and forever.”
“That would be nice,” said Sapale.
“Yeah, it would be, wouldn't it?” he responded glibly. He was such a tool.
“You gonna tell us or do I have to beat it out of you, please?” I asked quite seriously.
“I found the … I found someone in the know,” he replied. “The source of the Cleinoids’ power is Clein. End the Clein and you end the Cleinoids.” He stared at Daleria as he spoke.
“What about that, Dal?” I asked. “Is that so?” And why didn’t you tell us if it is?
“The Clein?” she puzzled. “Are you serious? The Clein is a legend, an old-man's tale told around a campfire. It isn't real.”
“Oh it's real, baby,” EJ responded.
“It … it can't be. No one has ever actually seen it, I mean. Where is it?”
“I got no clue,” said EJ. “Hey, I can't do all the heavy lifting on our team. One or more of you'll have to help a little too.”
“Oh so now it's our team, you included,” snarked Sapale.
“It’s always been that way, sweets. I was just working from home.”
“We'll see …” she began to respond.
Mirraya cut Sapale off. “What do you know about the Clein, Daleria?”
“Oh, it's a very very old story. It's said the Cleinoid gods were once mortals like anyone else. Then the Clein came to be and it imbued them with power, ultimate power. Something along those lines.”
“Why did it come to be?” posed Mirri.
Daleria shrugged. “No idea. It's an origin myth. Those are always vague or require suspension of disbelief.”
Mirri nodded. “I guess they do. What is it physically?”
“I have no idea on that either. I never paid much mind to the stories. No one discussed it and certainly nobody tried to research the topic. Not the almighty Cleinoids. We're too busy enjoying ourselves to be reflective.”
“Hmm,” responded Toño. “Creation myths can be hard to pin down, but in my experience many are based on some real aspect of history.”
“Could be,” said Daleria. “I just can't tell you much more about this one.”
“Is it said where the Clein is?” I asked.
“Not specifically.”
“How unhelpfully nebulous,” I replied.
“Well, it's said to be linked to our destruction. Not too surprising, I guess. No power, no us. Anyway, it's supposed to be located, and I'm paraphrasing I'm sure here, at the end of the Cleinoid path, when three miracles that are one work as two.”
“Yeah, we heard that cockamamy story before,” I scoffed.
“No, Jon,” corrected Toño. “We heard the last part, the one about the miracles. The first clue is new to us. My dear,” he addressed Daleria, “is anything said about the path's location? Where it starts and where it finishes?”
“I don't think so.” She blushed. “Sorry.”
“Don't be sorry. You've been very helpful,” reassured Toño. “If you do recall anything more be certain to tell us, all right?”
“Of course.”
“So we go to their universe, find the stupid Clein, and we kill all the birdies with one stone,” summarized EJ.
“The going back there is easy. The rest is kind of improbable,” responded Sapale.
“Well, the journey of a thousand miles and all,” I remarked as I stood. “Let's head back and take a stab at this new angle.” I didn't add that I thought we had no chance of finding a Clein. Only certain failure and even more certain death. Oh well, no party lasts forever. Sooner or later the fat people gotta start singing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Vorc sat behind his desk and he seethed. He seethed intensely. Everything that could go anywhere went the wrong way. Even his deep-cover agents had failed him. Bellicity was closing in on the next candidates for statues at Beal's Point. But she killed them before he could question them, find out who all was involved. And she somehow involved the drunken idiot Tefnuf in the stupidity. To top it off, Bellicity tried to blame some people who disappeared as if by magic instead of taking the responsibility for summoning Tefnuf. When one of his operatives screwed up, he only wished they'd own up to it before he cut them into little pieces.
Bellicity certainly hadn't. There she lay, small chunks oozing blood in that large barrel. Yet she never admitted her failure. She couldn't even find it in her soul to beg the mercy Vorc would never have shown her. Everything was going so badly for Vorc. If he thought he could abdicate without being executed, he'd do it in a hot second. He w
as such a good center seat, the best ever actually. Yet all around him foundered in the slick mud of incompetence and betrayal.
He shook his head. She said the person who actually cremated the two traitors was a dragon. A dragon. There were no dragons anymore. The only one there had been left with the first and only wave of egress. A stupid lie was a terrible lie. And Bellicity claimed the dragon worked for a humanoid mastermind who'd tried unsuccessfully to fool her into believing he was a would-be assassin. Such utter and absolute nonsense. She went on to describe with her dying breath a male who fit only one description. Ryanmax. He laughed in disbelief. She no doubt saw him at the vortex the day Rage departed. But she apparently didn't know Ryanmax had been killed and eaten by Gáwar. That sort of placed conspicuous holes in her fabric of lies. Why had he thought her loyal and clever? Bellicity was as bad as Tefnuf.
Well, unfortunately the bitch of the Lower Chambers still lived, unlike Bellicity. She tried to say Jon Ryan, the human whom she hallucinated long ago, had trapped her in a stasis bubble and released her at the massacre at the park. Was it possible for any brain to be that drunk? Apparently so. Vorc was so …
Jon Ryan? Ryanmax? Jon Ryanmax? Could there be some connection?
Vorc slapped his face very hard. No, there could not be. Ryanmax had long since been crapped out by that hideous monster. If there was a connection they were connected in excrement alone.
That's when the street-facing wall of Vorc's office exploded inward. He vaulted for the door. How many assassins were after him? He froze when he heard that laugh. Only one blight on the universe had that laugh. Gáwar. Vorc turned to face the breach but continued to slowly back toward the exit.
“Is that you, Gáwar?” he shouted with an unsteady voice.
“Of course, rodent droppings. Who else were you expecting?”
“I was not expecting you.”
“Then,” Gáwar bubbled as he entered though the large hole, “I'm a pleasant surprise.”
Vorc started to respond, but wisely aborted any negativity.
“Why are you here?” Vorc demanded.
“To make you soil yourself. Thank you for your cooperation.”
“I have not soiled myself. That is …”
“Oh you will before I depart.”
“I very much …”
“Do you know who I tasted in the wind?”
“Tasted? You mean smelled?”
“No, moron. I taste the wind. The wind is my friend, my only friend. It tells me of things. Wondrous things and impossible things.”
“Gáwar, I have no time for riddles and I have no time for games. What do you smell?”
“Ryanmax.”
Vorc relaxed by leaning against the nearest wall. What a relief. No news was the only good news he'd receive that day. “Of course you smelled him. You ate him. So his lingering scent follows you around. Why is that …”
“Ryanmax lives, fool. When I tasted him in the air I tasted his essence, his machinery, his foul breath. I tasted him, but it was in the wind, not my gut.”
“Breath? You said he was a robot. Robots don't …”
“Stop saying words before I eat you whole, vermin,” Gáwar thundered. “I say he lives. I tasted him.”
“Tasted? That's the past tense. I'm confused. You're saying you tasted him before you smashed him, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“Why is it I don't like the sound of that?”
“That would be hard for me to conjecture upon.”
“I … if … how long has he been back? I mean, he can't be, but if he is how long have you tasted him?”
“A few weeks.”
“A few weeks? And you thought to tell me only now? What an outrage.”
“Please calm yourself.”
“What? Calm myself? My archenemy has defied the impossibility of it and returned from the dead weeks ago, and you only tell me now? Justify your action immediately.”
“Ah, there is a twist … no, a clarification I should make. He's gone again.”
“Again? I like that less than the past tense thing earlier. Are you trying to say you killed him, he returned from the dead, but he's departed now?”
“Yes. Sort of, you know, in a way.”
“You just said nothing.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did what?”
“I said nothing. Actually, in my defense, I said little. Nothing is too harsh an assessment.”
“Why didn't you tell me when you first realized the beast was back?”
“Well … er … there was the matter of … well, you and I, we had an arrangement. Yes, that's it. We had …”
“You reprehensible slime,” howled Vorc. “If I dealt you my soul and those of people I care for to kill him and you didn't, then our arrangement would be off. You dare try and dupe me? To swindle me?”
“Dupe, swindle, trick, those are such … such judgmental terms. No. I was awaiting proper confirmation and a full review before rashly endangering your understanding and my stake. That's all. I was trying to be fair to you, friend Vorc.”
“Lies. If I hear speech I hear lies.”
“If that's how you feel, I suppose I won't be changing your mind on the subject. But know this. I will find Ryanmax and I will find him soon. Then I will kill him so completely and so many times that our deal will be fulfilled.”
Deal? What deal are you speaking of? You and I have not presently entered into any deal I know of?”
“You know very well we made a …”
“If we had or didn't have a deal, it was voided upon your failure to deliver. Arrangements such as that don't transfer forward unless so agreed upon.”
“You'll pay for this betrayal, Vorc.”
“Pay? Whatever are you talking about? Why would I pay someone anything unless we had a contract?” Vorc made a show of scanning the room. “I see no contract. Do you?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Our ever-growing band materialized in one of our past hideout caves. With the screwy time in the ancient god universe, we were actually not gone very long. We had tried to hatch a plan to find the location of the Clein, whatever it was. Unfortunately Daleria confirmed that there were no libraries, universities, or even museums to perform research in. The Cleinoids were totally not into knowledge, history, or culture. They were simple, free-spirit murderers. Nice. Every universe needs some of those.
I was so desperate The first thing I wanted the second we were back in the Cleinoid universe was for Casper to appear. Yeah, I wanted to see that most annoying ghost. My best chance to quickly obtain information on the Clein was from him. That said too much about how weak our position was. But, any port in a storm was better than none.
“Casper,” I shouted as soon as we materialized. “Casper, Mr. Ghost, are you here?”
Of course he was right behind me when he replied rather loudly, “I've never been apart from you.”
I basically jumped out of my polyalloy skin. Once recollected in one piece, I turned. I was instinctively going to chide or at least dis him, but I recalled I was totally reliant on him. Instead I somewhat pandered, “Hi, guy. Great to see you. How've you been?”
“Since I never left our side?”
“Sure,” I replied uncertainly. Then his use of words hit me. “Our side? You mean my side?”
“Sure,” he responded. I think he was playing me again.
If I didn't need him … ah well. “Any side you want, buddy.”
As was always the case, I noticed he'd morphed again. He looked like a human male. Incredible. Casper had gone from an amorphous blob to see-through homo sapiens in a handful of months. If my life got weirder, I was definitely asking Toño to reboot me.
“Say, you look different, kind of, you know, human.”
“You are human, correct?” he responded.
“Last time I … yes. I am.”
“You are not transparent. I am. How is it I appear human to you?”
“I meant you
r form is human, your outline.”
“And what is the significance of an individual having the form of a human in spite of not being one?”
“I … have … not … one … fraking … clue.” I surely did not. “Hey, since you're here, I had a question.”
He was silent—yeah, I had to characterize it—as the grave.
“So I'll just ask it, okay? Have you ever heard of the Clein?”
“Clein.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“No?” My heart sank like the Titanic.
“No, it's called Clein, not the Clein.”
“Ah. Then you have?”
“Have what?”
“Heard of th … of Clein?”
“Yes.”
“Thank the Sweet Lord in Heaven and all the little saints and angels.”
“You want me to what?” Casper asked, confused.
“No, I was expressing relief and joy. It was not a command.”
“Ah.”
Silence.
“So what is Clein?” I asked since he appeared not to be telling.
“It is the source of the Cleinoids’ power. Surely she told you that much?” Casper gestured a human-looking hand at Daleria.
“Yes, we know that. I was … checking to make certain. That's what I was doing.”
“Why?”
“In retrospect for no good reason.”
“Ah.”
You got it. Silence.
“Where is Clein?”
“I told him I didn't know because I don't,” Daleria clarified before he could ask.
“Clein is everywhere.”
Crap, we couldn't very well destroy it if it was everywhere.
“You told me yourself the Cleinoid gods are pulverizing your universe. They do so because Clein is there. It is everywhere.”
“I guess that means we can't very well end it,” remarked Toño. “It sounds like the Force of Star Wars fame.”
“Apparently,” I replied.
“No, it's not like that at all.” Casper was sounding kind of huffy. Dude was odd as well as a ghost.
“How are they different?” pressed Toño.
“And excuse me for asking, but how do you know about Star Wars?” I challenged. “They don't rerun it in this universe, I know that for damn sure.”
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