On the flip side, those very same males and females relegated to living in the outer- world of Crimon (which was the name of the planet as well as its inhabitants) hadn’t only joined his team, but were intermingling nicely with the Sharks. If their intent was to turn on them eventually, then the present subterfuge didn’t seem the prudent way to go about it. It would be far more effective to either assume armed positions behind the Sharks or encircle them.
As a precaution, Billy initialized his battle suit, though he felt pretty secure that he and his men were in no immediate danger.
Billy heard Tops’ voice stammer over the open channel:
“Commander … the … the … tracks. Mollie, Boomer, and the … others … looks like we’re still going in the same direction.”
Billy looked down at the rusted, greasy metal under their feet. The countless smudged footprints were a jumble of smears. Looking over at Tops, Billy’s expression said it all: There’s just no way you can make out whose footprints we’re looking at …
With a subtle gesture, Tops signaled, nodding his helmet, to look past the footprints to the far side of a large pipe that ran in the same direction. Sure enough, there they were! Even Billy could differentiate that the footprints were the same ones he’d been shown before.
Oranammy walked in-step with Billy, Glorianne several paces behind.
“According to these footprints, we’re heading in the same direction as our other team. It’s also evident they’re being guided … by someone. Any idea just who that might be?” Billy asked.
Oranammy and Glorianne exchanged a quick glance. Glorianne said, “Could be anyone who’d been sentenced to this hellish outer-world. We all want out of here. But if I were to guess, I’d say it’s Corman—the maintenance superintendent for this block.”
“Why him?” Billy asked.
“He’s got even more motivation to slip into the inner-world than we do. His young daughter is ill and I hear she doesn’t have long to live.”
“Heard that from whom?” Billy asked, looking around.
Oranammy used his knuckles to rap on a nearby greenish-hued pipe. “This is a communications conduit. Look around … they’re all over the place. We may not be able to see our loved ones, but we can fairly easily tap into the speak-all lines.”
Billy assumed a speak-all was similar to Earth’s old hard-wired telephone lines. “I guess that’s something. So where would this Corman fellow take them?”
“Same place we’re headed,” Oranammy said. “It’s either up ahead, where we’re going, or it is back the other way … to the Red Gates.”
“Red Gates … what’s that?” Billy asked, thinking about the three ministry members and the alternative direction they had chosen to take.
“Just like it sounds. Massive in size, it’s for the elite … dignitaries … those coming from other Crimon nations. It’s also the egress and ingress for all winged transports.”
The information got Billy thinking. Seemed the ministry members had already known where to go. That seemed likely.
“Here we go,” Oranammy said.
Several hundred feet ahead was some kind of depot. A dingy-looking, railed transport train could be seen entering through a simple rollup-type door. Like an opened garage door, but on a far larger scale, the train was quickly swallowed up in the ensuing darkness. Troops could be seen milling about—some were armed with the same double-stocked weapons the security force carried, while others were unarmed. Two observation towers, positioned on either side of the tunnel opening, and multiple gun turrets were on various elevated platforms—situated around the depot. Even from a distance, Billy noted protruding gun muzzles, which periodically changed position. Evidently, whoever was manning the weapons was being fairly vigilant. The tunnel, even with his HUD’s zoom capabilities, was cloaked behind a hanging layer of smoggy-sooty ozone.
“That’s it. That’s the only way you’re going to enter into the inner-world,” Oranammy said, wearing a half smile, along with a fatalistic expression. Apparently, the intention was for Billy to witness how impossible it would be to progress any further.
The raised tunnel door began to roll down, and a moment later closed.
“What’s that?” Sanchez asked, pointing toward a sudden downward burst of running water.
Oranammy said, “That’s part of the HDES … heat dissipation exchange system. Heated coolant is re-circulated below, where it is cooled.”
“Huh … that’s a lot of water,” Billy said.
“That’s not water. If it were, any of us would have jumped into that evac-drain a long time ago. No, that’s chemion. Stays cold longer, but it’s a terrible corrosive. Part of the reason the air pollution here is so awful. Prolonged direct exposure to it strips the skin right off your bones.”
“So where does that evac-drain lead to … specifically?” Billy asked.
“I told you, it’s not an option. It leads down to a utility vault, over one hundred feet below.”
“So there’s another level … one in between this outer-world and the inner-world?”
“That’s right … but getting down there is impossible,” Glorianne said.
Billy, adjusting his HUD settings, scanned the indicated location below. From the look of things, it didn’t seem that much different from where they stood now—lots of pipes and conduits, along with that big, vertical evac-drain. But, sure enough, about one hundred feet below all that was a series of wide catwalks.
“If we were to get you down there … to that intermediary sub-level … would it be easier to enter into the inner-world from there?”
“Of course. The only centralized security is right here, or back at Red Gates. But, like I said, there’s no way to pass—”
“Fine … I get it!” Billy said, shutting Oranammy up in mid-sentence. It seemed obvious now that he didn’t intend to help them—he never had.
Suddenly, lots of chatter could be heard over the open channel. Sanchez was in the process of configuring the right settings for the Sharks to phase-shift together to coordinates below. Hayes could be heard arguing with another Shark about something or other.
Billy, raising his palm to Oranammy and Glorianne, said, “Hold on, we’re figuring this out.”
Two minutes later Billy turned back to them. He raised his visor so they could see his face more clearly. “Look … I appreciate you taking us this far. It’s evident you never thought we could progress any further than here. Maybe our walking here was simply a means to break up another tedious day here. I don’t really know … or care.”
Oranammy merely shrugged and smiled. Billy caught several in his security squad exhibiting the same nonchalant behavior. When their smiles faded, they began to move away from the Sharks, their weapons raised.
Looking irritated, Glorianne turned to Oranammy, then back to Billy. “Yes,” she said, “this was a setup … a trap. Delivering you into the hands of the outer-world command guards. It’s a very good way to get months, maybe even years, shaved off their sentences. Can you blame them? They don’t know you … none of us do.”
“Best you shut up,” Oranammy said, his eyes narrowing and fixed on Glorianne. “This is the standard procedure. We don’t owe these strangers an explanation.”
She ignored him. “But I meant what I said. Please … take me with you.”
“We’ve got a shitload of Crimon guards coming this way, getting ready to surround us, Boss,” Sanchez said.
Billy, viewing all the red icons approaching on his HUD, also noticed numerous gun turrets pointing in their direction.
Billy said to Oranammy, “Pray you don’t see me again.” He held out his hand, palm up, in front of Glorianne. She looked at it questioningly, then placed her hand over his. Over the open channel, Billy said, “Get us out of here, Sanchez.”
In a bright white flash—Billy, Glorianne, Traveler, and the Sharks phase-shifted away together.
Chapter 40
Unknown Multiverse Realm
&nbs
p; Crimon, Middle-world
__________________________
Present day …
The catwalk was indeed where it was supposed to be, and the ten had phase-shifted onto it without an issue. It was dark on the catwalk—constructed a hundred feet or so above Crimon’s surface below. Billy’s first impression brought back an old experience he had in high school, during the high school’s stage production of Grease. He was dating the lead—the Sandy Olsson character—played by Olivia Newton John in the movie version. As he stood on stage, what seemed a lifetime ago, he experienced the same kind of detached—almost voyeuristic—excitement he felt now. His attention, way back then, was centered on a breathtakingly pretty junior, named Tracey Birnbaum. Whereas the scene below him now was a different kind of stage—a mystical world setting that was entirely simulated.
Billy, looking to his left, noted his teammates were also leaning against the metal pipe railing and peering downward. Traveler tilted his magnificent large head and snorted in wonder. On Billy’s right, Glorianne had turned sideways. Looking directly at him, she seemed not the least bit interested in the goings on below them. In the near-darkness, only the simulated saffron glow of a late afternoon sunset subtly highlighted her delicate features. Surprised, he noticed moisture glistening in her blue eyes.
Leaning in close to him, her lips close to his ear, she said, “One hundred and thirty-seven years ago, when the Dal arrived … this was all constructed. Almost overnight.”
Billy peered down at the scene below. To him, it resembled a town not too different from any number of towns back on Earth. He estimated its timeframe to be in the 1930s era, based on the way the people were dressed. Even the automobiles weren’t too dissimilar from those manufactured in Detroit during that time. There were buildings and sidewalks, and a lush, green Central Park-like area that had a lake and what looked to be a small petting zoo.
“It looks nice down there … doesn’t it?”
Billy shrugged. “It’s weird … I’m not so sure I understand—”
She smiled and leaned in close again. “I guess one can get used to anything over time. Everyone down there lives a very uneasy existence. Anxiety is profound everywhere. They never know, from one day to the next, from one moment to the next, what will enter their reality.”
As if to punctuate her words, a loud commotion suddenly pulled Billy’s attention downward. Big rainbow-colored bubbles were rising in the air. They reminded him of the soap bubbles kids like to make—dipping a plastic wand into sudsy bottles, then blowing air through its circular opening. But no—these weren’t the same kind of magical bubbles children played with on Earth. These were much, much larger and people were trapped inside them. Billy watched in horror as pedestrians, walking along the sidewalks, minding their own business, were randomly—one by one—encased in these watery orbs that were now rising in the air. Their early confusion quickly turned to nervousness as they rose higher in altitude. Billy found himself holding his breath. As they came nearer, he witnessed their early nervousness turn to frantic fright—their mouths wide in silent screams. As they rose ever higher, Billy could now make out small buttons on clothing and double-knots on shoes; even the shade of lipstick a blond-haired young woman wore on her lips. The bubbles seemed almost close enough to touch when the first rainbow-hued bubble burst. A splattering of wet droplets surprisingly cascaded upward. Billy could see a silk-like barrier separating their higher up, behind-the-scenes section from the illusory world below. The young woman wearing the crimson lipstick flailed—momentarily weightless—then fell as gravity pulled her downward. She died instantly upon striking the street, her limbs splayed awkwardly in unnatural positions. One-by-one—pop … pop … pop … pop the trapped fell to their deaths. And then it was over. Pedestrians spared the ordeal began to tentatively walk on again. One young mother reached for her child’s hand then picked up her pace.
“Fuck me …” Hayes said.
“That’s some cruel shit,” Sanchez said.
“What the hell is this place?” Billy asked, turning toward Glorianne. Angry, his hands were balled into white-knuckled fists.
“It’s called the Dal’s what if place,” she said.
Billy shook his head, not understanding.
“This is where the Dal comes to play the game what if … what if people were turned into fish in a small lake … or, what if, all at once, everyone forgot who they were? Or, what if people suddenly experienced the most profound sense of love and kindness in their entire lives? Or, what if people were to suddenly find themselves encased in big soap bubbles rising into the air?”
“How often does something like this happen?” Billy asked.
“Once a month … every few months … twice in one week … you never know,” she said.
“I’d rath … rath … rather live up in that outer-world,” Tops said.
Traveler said, “I do not understand a place like this.”
Billy wondered how many other worlds existed in this same realm, which Rom Dasticon had infused with his own personal brand of evil. What observation posts—horrible menageries—had been built here on a whim? A sick god that pulls out the feathers—one by one—from a bird’s wing just to see when it can no longer fly. Billy was originally on the fence about the Rom Dasticon aspect to this mission. Retrieving the girls was fine, then they would return to normalcy in their own multiverse realm. But now he totally got it. He understood why Boomer and Mollie came here, against the wishes of their father and mother. No, Dasticon could not be allowed to exist. The slightest possibility of his entry into Earth’s realm was unacceptable. It was worth any price … even their lives … to safeguard against him ever doing so.
“Still want to go below … to the inner-world?” Glorianne asked.
Billy shook his head. “I don’t know … we may find the girls there, but Dasticon … he’d be up here … watching. What else is up here,” Billy gestured with his hands to the area around them, “within this middle area, this puppet-master’s purgatory?”
“The Dal’s Window,” Glorianne said. “It’s heavily guarded, though I don’t think I’ve even contemplated getting anywhere near there. No one would. The punishment is that horrific.”
“Seriously? Worse than … that?” Billy asked, gesturing to the body-strewn street below.
“Far worse … unimaginably worse,” she said, her face cold and expressionless.
Billy let it go. “I take it that is where the Dal visits to observe his sick twists on reality?”
“From the Dal’s Window he can observe the inner-worlds of the eight Crimon nations. I don’t know what is there. As I said, it’s so off limits it’s not even talked about.”
Sanchez brought up his virtual notebook and was using his hand to quickly wave past scanned areas of no interest. After several moments, he returned to an area he’d already passed by. “Look here,” he said, gesturing to the virtual display “… this is the Red Gates area they talked about, Boss. That’s where everything’s happening. Lots of activity and this …” Sanchez repositioned the scanned section of the virtual image and zoomed in on an octagon-shaped area.
“The Red Gates are fifteen miles away from our current coordinates. Our battle suit sensors aren’t able to penetrate the octagon. Oh … and did I mention it’s made of Glist?”
Billy’s eyes followed the curve of the catwalk beyond Glorianne, until its length was consumed in the darkness—twenty or thirty feet on. How many miles did it, and other catwalks, extend? On his HUD, he saw several icons moving in the distance. The Dal’s puppeteers.
“Let’s get out of here,” Billy said. “Wherever that octagon is … The Dal’s Window. That’s where Dasticon will be.”
Billy glanced back to Glorianne. “Still on board for this?”
She nodded, but he sensed she’d lost some of her resolute determination.
They all flashed away.
* * *
The bright flash came and went, and for a moment Billy won
dered what went wrong. They hadn’t seemed to move any. Then he noticed Traveler and Sanchez were occupying different locations on the catwalk—they’d swapped places.
And the scene below was different, showing a far more rural landscape. There were farmhouses and open fields and what looked to be a gathering of locals. Billy quickly realized it was a barn-raising, or the Crimon equivalent of one. It looked like a happy occasion. Billy heard the quick inhalation of breath and watched Traveler reach for his heavy hammer, hanging from a leather thong on his belt. Realization hit him—looking to his right, Billy’s worst fears were confirmed.
The all-powerful Sachem was in his natural state, Billy surmised. He looked as old and withered as a being could possibly be. His long robe was brown and simple, a nomad’s attire. His thin, twisted, angular fingers pulled his hood back—letting it droop against his back—exposing his long, narrow face. His dark sunken cheeks, with their exaggerated folds and wrinkles, showed millennia of lifetimes. But the ravages of time stopped there. His blue and intelligent eyes glistened, just as they did when he stood next to him—when he was Glorianne.
Chapter 41
]Sol Star System
Open Space
__________________________
Jason’s visit to the scrapyard house, and remaining incommunicado for nearly twenty-four hours, nearly brought Liberty Station’s high command into a wild frenzy.
Within seconds of changing the mute setting on his NanoCom, Admiral Portman was on the fine edge of crossing the line into insubordination. His voice, rising in volume by the second, made his point in no uncertain terms: “So you went offline just as thousands of alien warships headed toward the Sol System? With all due respect, who in hell does that? As the ranking Omni, your responsibility—”
Jason cut Admiral Portman off mid-sentence: “Admiral … take a breath. The time I spent here was absolutely necessary. I’m certain by that by now you … and the other highly competent officers up there … have come to the same disheartening conclusion I have. Even with help from the other worlds within the Alliance, we’re doomed.”
Glory for Sea and Space (Star Watch Book 4) Page 22
