by J. Naomi Ay
Monrat didn’t recall anything else about the transit. This was probably a good thing since he had started out on Deck 17 and now was somewhere between Decks 1 and 2.
As Monrat rose to his feet and tried to hold his aching head straight, he noticed an object floating in the adjacent reservoir. As the vast room was dimly lit, Monrat couldn’t tell with certainty what it was. However, he leaned over the side of the pool and tried to fetch it out.
Unfortunately, he couldn't grasp it, as the spacebase rocked and rolled in a manner reminiscent of a ship at sea. First it moved one way, and then another, such that each time Monrat had it within his reach, the object sailed off in the opposite direction.
Monrat raced around the pool chasing the item from side to side. Just as he thought it might drift into his outstretched palm, the doohickey floated off. Now, Monrat's curiosity was piquing, for as it had neared this last time, he had clearly seen that it was a woman's purse.
It never occurred to Monrat to question how such an item might have ended up in the reservoir, or if the woman who came with it was still in the water. Rather, he considered it a stroke of immense good fortune and luck, as he had been unemployed for nearly a whole day. The sum total of Monrat's wages for the last week or two, perhaps, even this entire month, had been left on the roulette table, which was now fifteen stories higher.
Quickly, Monrat looked around for a stick or long pole with which he might fish the handbag out. As he wandered the perimeter of the room, finding nothing of use, he imagined a great fortune within the bag. In this quick glimpse, he had ascertained that it was not only of a fashionable design, but constructed of the highest quality in the galaxy.
Unfortunately, Monrat found nothing he could use as make-shift pole or a fishing hook, so he had no choice but to wait for the spacebase to rock again. Three times it took swaying back and forth, and then, forth and back, until the purse went flying out of the pool. It splashed upon the floor staying perfectly intact, as indeed, it was an indestructible bag.
Monrat picked it up and stroked the lovely, black patent leather, while admiring the clasp of solid gold. The initials KdK were engraved upon the top, and inside, Monrat discovered a bonanza.
There was a paycard in the name of Katie de Kudisha, a tortoise shell comb, and a tube of red lipstick. There was also a tiny mirror, a pack of mint chewing gum, and .40 caliber, gold-plated Lady Glock. Monrat, pleased with his new treasure, pocketed the gun and the comb, while chewing the entire pack of gum. He was not the type to wear lipstick, and mirrors had bothered him since his youth, so he left them and the purse next to the wall.
Now, Monrat proceeded to walk the perimeter of the vast room once again, this time searching for a door or another way out. As luck would have it, he found one, way on the other side, beneath a sign that read "Exit.” Pulling the door open, Monrat discovered a long, narrow tunnel, oddly colored in silver light and smelling a bit intense. Nevertheless, he went inside as there was no other way to get upstairs. His goal and destination was the pawnshop on Deck 7, where he intended to trade the gun for more gambling money.
Senya was getting bored with this game, although it had been a bit entertaining to watch these Humans chase each other through the labyrinthine tunnels. Now, they were all quite lost, which Senya found incredibly tiresome.
Here were Thad and Gina running around in circles, while Jerry and his friends wandered another way. Katie and Pym were being followed by Monrat, whilst unbeknownst to them, they followed Woofbert. Not a single person was even close to attaining the goal.
Ach well, at least he had time to smoke a few more cigarettes and catch the latest scores on ESPN. With the dust storm raging outside, which Senya considered a rather impressive feat, he could delay the final inning a little longer.
At least, his progeny had figured out how to enjoy themselves. There was nothing like destroying a few aliens to pass the time. There was Rent busily rescuing Trudy, while Steve and Joanne comforted a distraught Sara.
Senya laughed as his sons applauded each other, little did they know how the Rogarians truly began to melt.
“We did it, dude,” Shika cried, slapping his brother upon the back. “Maybe we each have a little bit of dad's powers. If we combine them, we can do all sorts of things.”
“Maybe,” Rent shrugged, “Can we discuss this later? We need to get out of here and Trudy wants a shower.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Steve enthusiastically took Sara's hand. “Come on, Princess, let's get you a bath. Maybe Uncle Rent and I can magic up some bubbles for you to soak in.”
“Give me a break, Steve,” Sara said. “Can we go home now? I’m sick of this vacation already.”
Back in the bowels of the spacebase's central core, a sign appeared above a brand new door.
"Hey, what's that?" Lester pointed at the writing which was in Mishnese and read, "Exit. This Way. Admit One."
"It's an exit," Michael declared. "I don’t know about you guys, but I'm getting out of here. As far as I'm concerned, your Emperor friend is twisted. Why he would lock us down here for his own entertainment is something I fail to understand."
"Well, there's probably more to it than that," Jerry cautioned, as Michael made to depart through the door, which had opened only enough to admit one. "Are you sure you want to go there, Michael? You never know what's on the other side. Maybe, I should go first. After all, I was in Spaceforce. I've encountered a lot more aliens than you."
"I'll be fine," Michael insisted, glancing inside and muttering under his breath. “If I have to hear one more time about how he was in Spaceforce, while I was home in Jersey, I'm liable to strangle him with my bare hands.”
In truth, Michael didn’t want to go in alone, but he also didn't want to ask for help. Michael had always been somewhat insecure, especially around his younger, favored cousin. Everyone knew how Grandpa Lou, the family patriarch, loved Jerry more than him. He would sit little Jerry on his lap and tell him to learn from Michael’s mistakes. Michael was too fat, his hair too curly or later, far too bald, and his glasses didn't fit his narrow face. When Michael brought home a girlfriend, she was examined from head to toe. Inevitably, she was too tall, too short, too round, too thin, or God forbid, a shiksa.
Jerry, on the other hand, was living off in space, a brave warrior and doctor, all at once. He was healing alien people and saving the Alliance from evil creatures. No one minded if he dated blue girls with three boobs. He had spent his whole life pining for a girl who was married to another man, but that was alright. In fact it was encouraged.
All the relatives loved to discuss Jerry, whose life was more interesting than any of theirs, while everything about Michael was normal and ordinary. Even though, they were all gone and had been for quite some time, Michael could still feel them looking down upon him and judging.
Now, here was his chance to be first. Michael could prove he was just as good as Jerry, or even better. He could climb that staircase and escape from this wretched place. He could be the first one to the top and win this ridiculous game.
“Don't!” Jerry screamed as Michael crossed the threshold. “
Les stared at the door, watching it close behind Michael.
"I guess, I'll go next." He shrugged. "Unless, you want to?"
"No, go ahead. I'm sure you'll be fine."
When the sign flashed again, Lester went inside and mounted the steps one at a time, thinking he had no regrets in his life.
Well, maybe just one, concerning his second ex-wife, Betty Sue. She was the only one he had truly loved and probably, still did. If he had five extra minutes, he'd write her a note, just to tell her he was sorry for being a fool. He'd also write a note to Gladys and apologize for all the times that he was mean. She wasn't that bad a person, and she played a good hand of Bridge.
At the top of the staircase, Les saw that man, the one in the cloak with his face covered by a hood.
"Are you the Emperor?" Lester asked.
"Why?"
"I
want to apologize in case I sold you a pair of bad shoes. Jerry tells me you have foot problems. Maybe, you ought to try inserts and orthopedic soles."
"'Tis quite all right, Lester. Your shoes have done me no harm. Though you weren't the best of men, you aren't the worst either. Go on with your journey. Your door is straight away over there."
“Thanks.” Lester nodded and held out his hand as if to shake. Then, realizing his faux pas, he took it back. “See ya around,” he said instead, to which the Emperor responded with “Indeed you will.”
Lester Nussbaum, intergalactic shoe salesman, moved on to his next destination.
Jerry's mind was on Katie, as he wandered around the room. Was she lost somewhere else down here? Did she enter that gun shop, or was that a space mirage? As the door shut behind Les, Jerry put his ear to the walls and tried to listen. Maybe, they should have stayed in the cardroom and forced that Andorian to play. What was it that Ron really wanted of them?
"Hey, Ron?" Jerry called. "Why exactly are you playing this game with us? I mean, it's been years since we've met or even spoken. You can't still be mad about all that water under the bridge?"
"Come this way," the Emperor's voice replied, his accented English no better than it had been years before. Then, the door opened again, beckoning Jerry inside, into a dark and pungent staircase where he stood alone.
"Ron?" he yelled after a moment or so. "Sir? Your Majesty? Whatever you are? Would you kindly please explain what I'm supposed to do?"
"Ach, Jerry," the Emperor sighed from where he appeared half hidden by shadows. "'Tis long past time for you to let go of your fixation upon my wife. What you see here is the stair to release your fears and the weight upon your soul. As you mount each step, let the staircase chase your burdens and sins away."
"But, why now?" Jerry asked. "And, why you of all people? Don't tell me this staircase leads to the pearly gates."
The Emperor chuckled a bit and took a drag upon his cigarette.
"The answer to that won't be apparent until you pass through."
"What about Michael and Lester?" Jerry stepped higher and closer to the top. As he neared, the Emperor's image began to fade. In fact, Jerry wasn't entirely certain he wasn't seeing someone or something else.
"Only they know their ultimate destination. This game is about you, Jerry, and it shan't end until you have done as I have bid."
"Alright," Jerry replied. "I guess, I’m sorry. I'm sorry for being a schmuck, and not acknowledging what a good life I've had with Janet. Katie never loved me anyway, and I should have realized that from the start. I should have appreciated more the woman who always did." As the words flew from Jerry's mouth, he realized how true they were, so he kept on speaking, continuing his confession. "I'm sorry, I've hated Michael. I should have stayed in touch with him over the years. Spending these last few days together, I realize he's not so bad. In fact, we're alike in a lot of ways, and we could have been good friends. When I see him again, I'm going to tell him exactly that."
"Very good, Jerry. Is there anything else?"
"I'm sorry, I was jealous of you, over Katie, over everything else. You were better looking, a better doctor, had more money, and won the girl. I should have been happy with my lot in life, but instead I let the envy eat at me. I'm sorry for all that, and I apologize to you."
"Do not covet and all that?"
"Yeah, exactly, that one. I think the rest of the Commandments, I was pretty good about."
"Yes, Jerry, you were. You were a good man and a good doctor, even though, you were and still are a schmuck."
"Thanks, Ron," Jerry replied, standing at the landing on the top. "I mean, Sir, or whatever it is you like to be called."
"I am who I am," the voice said, for the man had vanished in the mist. "However, ‘Ron’ was a name I have always liked, much more so than some of the others I have been called."
Then, the door swished open in front of Jerry, and a brilliant beam of light in rainbow colors met his eyes. Jerry tried to cover them at first, but, then decided to watch, for when they dimmed, he discovered that waiting for him were his parents, his old dog, and Grandpa Lou.
Chapter 20
Thad and Gina had ended up in a room as large as an elevator box. In fact, perhaps that was exactly what it was.
"We should have stayed with Jerry and his friends," Thad said, feeling kind of sick. "But, no, you had to chase after that Andorian dude who was dressed in purple and wearing a false beard."
"I thought he might be able to help us get out!"
"Well, he didn't!" Thad snapped, "And, now we're more lost than we were before. Damnit, Gina! I don't know why I ever listened to you. I don't know what insanity ever compelled me to marry you in the first place."
"Go to hell, Thad!" Gina screamed and swung her purse at her ex-husband's face.
"I think we're already going there!" Thad retorted, ducking away.
Gina's bag smashed against the wall, which had started moving. Oddly, they weren't going up or down. Rather, they traveled horizontally, and were gaining quite a speed.
"What in the hell is happening now?" Gina cried, clutching the wall.
"I don't know," Thad gasped as the lift was moving so quickly, it seemed as if his very words were being whisked away. In fact, it was becoming difficult to breathe. If Thad didn’t know any better, he would say that Gina's face was starting to stretch, all those staples and tiny tucks were coming apart at the seams.
"Oh God." Gina clutched the walls. "I don't think this is the least bit funny."
"I always hated traveling in space," Thad said. "And, I hate it even more now. I should have just stayed home and let Ron kill me there."
"If you would have stayed, I would have too." Not only Gina's face, but her voice was distorted by gravity's pull.
Then, as if they had been shot from a gun, the elevator burst off into a void. Without windows, the occupants couldn't tell where exactly they were going, or how fast. However, a moment later, their faces were set right, and their voices returned to a normal pitch and volume. Even the lights in the lift came back on to a soft incandescent hue.
"Are we safe?" Gina asked, moving closer to Thad, who was sitting on the floor not far from where Gina's purse had spilt. Her pink Smith & Wesson was lying near his hand, and strangely, the barrel was hot while emitting a tiny wisp of smoke.
"Did you shoot someone?" Thad asked. "Or did I?"
"I don't remember," Gina muttered. "I was drunk."
"Me too," Thad admitted, feeling his body for holes, and finding one right in the center of his forehead. "Uh oh. I think it's over."
"Really? I don’t have any holes in me."
"Uh…yes, you do, Gina." Thad pointed. "Turn around and have a look." Sure, enough there was an exit wound on the back of Gina's head. "You must have shot me and then, swallowed a bullet yourself."
Curiously, Gina didn’t begin to cry, and for that matter, neither did Thad. Rather, they sat on the floor and waited for the elevator to stop, grateful that it was not immediately going down. Hopefully, they'd have some time to make things right.
Back at the spacebase, Monrat Morfel was wandering through a dimly lit tunnel made of metal and lined with dripping pipes. He held the gold-plated Glock tightly in his hand. The tortoise shell comb was in his pocket as a sort of good luck charm, although, at this particular moment, Monrat wasn't feeling very lucky.
There were odd noises echoing in here and creatures were flying overhead or crawling on the floor. Monrat hated vermin. He despised reptiles and rats. Most of all he hated bats and things that flew. All in all, this tunnel was very creepy and just being here sent chills up Monrat's spine. He had no clue how to get out, especially since he wasn't entirely sure how he had gotten in, but Monrat didn't dwell on that. Instead, he kept on walking.
Up ahead, somewhere not far away, Monrat heard the sound of a voice that he knew well. It was either crying or wailing in pain. No, actually it was singing what sounded like the Andorian Na
tional Anthem, except the words were changed from, ‘My Glorious Blue Planet,’ to, ‘My Glorious Blue President, Me.’
This irritated Monrat in a very large way. The anthem was sacred, almost like a prayer. He clutched the Glock tighter in his grasp, wondering if he could or would use it on Woofbert Wangdog. Given the opportunity, what would Citizen Monrat Morfel do?
When he had been an insider to the cause and Wangdog was his friend, Monrat had closed his eyes to the transgressions upon the Andorian people. Now, that he was on the outside looking in, Monrat wondered if this was the task set before him today. Would lowly Monrat Morfel set the Andorian people free?
"Oh, Monrat," Woofbert cried when his former assistant appeared. "How fortunate to discover you trapped in here with me."
"Not fortunate at all," Monrat sneered, raising the Glock and aiming at Woofbert. "Unless you're referring to the people of Andorus II."
"Oh, that's beautiful," Woofbert exclaimed, reaching out for the gun, "And you remembered that gold was my favorite color! Monrat, I've decided since you've been such a faithful companion, and truly, my very best friend, I'm going to reinstate you as my loyal Chief of Staff."
Monrat's hand wavered as his resolution faltered. The gun drooped, and now, pointed at the floor.
"In fact," Woofbert continued, taking the gun from Monrat's limp hand, "I'm going to give you a raise in compensation. I was just thinking, right now, before you came on the scene, that I bet Monrat would love to play a round of Worf. You could borrow one of my old beards. I've got at least three, and purple suits are quite easy to come by. What do you think, dear friend? As soon as we get home, we'll tee-off and then, we'll have some drinks."
Woofbert's voice was hypnotic, his cadence like a drum, as it pounded into Monrat's brain. A game of Worf and a drink with his best friend and Dear Leader, how could Monrat have been so foolish to question the One?
