Intergalactic Terrorist (New Dimension Book 1) Page 9

  Another example would be the lost civilization of Mangdar on the distant planet named Umf. Umf history tells that the city, which was paved with gold and marshmallows, was lost when a large crater in the ground opened up and swallowed it whole. Obviously, this is completely untrue. Once again it was a universal event that shifted several galaxies' positions with one another, Umf being unfortunately in line with the appearance of a giant black hole that threatened to swallow the whole planet. Instead however, it opted to just take the civilisation of Mangdar, as this particular black hole had a lust for gold. Gold watches, bracelets, belt buckles, even gold teeth. It was the black hole of bling, envied by all other black holes. Unfortunately, it was allergic to marshmallows and promptly died as only a black hole can.

  Some people would say that these strange events were completely random and that it was the universe's way of keeping things running. Of course the only people that had any memory of these strange events were the ones such as the dinosaurs, or the egg-shaped hermaphrodite people of Mangdar who are now nowhere to be found.

  In truth there was nothing random about the shifting of the universe. It was all perfectly controlled. By whom no one knew, as already mentioned, no one actually knew these events ever took place. Everyone in the universe remained blissfully unaware that anything had happened, except for those that it had happened to.

  On a small planet, orbited by five moons, a small someone stood sweating. He was one of those that it had happened to. He was just unaware it had yet.

  Chapter 11

  The wind was cold. It was a bitter, icy wind that stung the skin. And it howled. Howled like a dog. Or at least like a dog that had been stretched out, strung up and had a megaphone inserted into its voice box. The sky shook with the rumbling of thunder like an empty stomach and lightning flashed amongst the clouds.

  Standing alone in this deathly wind, surrounded by the lightning, was a squat figure, his shoulders rising up and down as he took deep breaths trying to regain his strength. He stood on the flattened peak of a large rocky mountain. The top of the mountain seemed to have been cut away many years ago, leaving large area in the centre, which appeared to have been sculpted into some sort of temple with dark rocked gargoyles with huge Johnsons standing beside the entrance.

  The figure had already been inside the temple. He had already faced the nightmarish horrors that lurked within, which included the gargoyles with large Johnsons. He had also already climbed the mountain. It had been a long, hard climb that had taken at least two days. Now he stood, staring back down, ready to descend. And he was certain it would not take him long to reach the bottom. Especially after seeing what was waiting for him on the mountain side.

  He was a Dwarf and a typical one in every sense. He was short in height but wide in girth. He would call it muscle but, although there was no doubt he was strong, others would probably call it pork pies. He had a long brown beard that was braided in several places (that in no way made him look feminine – especially if you wanted to keep your head attached to your neck) and long hair to match. On top of his head was a hard metal helmet with a spike on the top and he wore thick, strong armour over heavy chain mail. In his hand he held a large axe that was stained with the blood of his enemies.

  The Dwarf grinned. This was going to be a lot of fun!

  He gripped the handle of the large axe so tight that his knuckles turned white and tapped it on a large wooden shield strapped to his back. He snarled, showing his slightly pointed, slightly chipped, slightly yellow teeth. His other hand closed tightly around an object that glowed in a misty purple haze.

  “I am ready for you!” he bellowed at the top of his voice. For a man so short he had a belting shout. It did sound slightly like a broken fog horn (but you would never mention it unless you didn’t want to keep your legs).

  He stared with his beady eyes down the mountain at the hoard creeping towards him. A mass of dark green and grey climbed slowly upwards, all snarling and slobbering. They were Orcs and there were hundreds of them. The Orcs lived here on this mountain, protecting the temple and the precious item within. They were tall, thin, and hideously ugly. The Dwarf thought they looked like something scraped off the bottom of one’s boot after walking through a field of cows. Even that was kind.

  The Dwarf had managed to evade the Orcs on his ascent up the mountain. Luckily for him, Orcs are particularly stupid. Give them a simple sum like 1 + 1 and they would somehow manage to come up with the answer of a raw slab of meat, dripping with blood, fresh off the buttocks of a large animal. Possibly a bear but probably a walrus.

  However this time around the Orcs were ready for that pesky little Dwarf. He had taken that which they had to protect with their lives. It is what these particular Orcs were bred for.

  Of course it was not on this planet. In reality the Orcs and the Dwarves came from the same world. But as previously mentioned everything had recently changed. Although none of them knew that anything had. For them, all of this was perfectly normal.

  “Dwop the cwystal Dwarf!” spat one of the larger and more intelligent of the Orcs. His skin was bright green and covered in snot-like goo. The really thick stuff that you have to cover one nostril up in order to blow it out. “Dwop it ow we will dwop you!”

  The Dwarf laughed. “The only things dropping around here,” he shouted in his loud, deep, booming voice, “will be your dead bodies as they fall to the ground!”

  And he meant it.

  With one giant leap he jumped from the peak and began to run down the mountainside as fast as his small podgy legs could carry him. The Orcs raised their own weapons, which were crudely made swords and spears and knives, as they readied themselves for the tiny blur that sped towards them.

  With one almighty crash the Dwarf connected with the first of the Orcs, flinging them up into the air. The Dwarf continued to run, his speed increasing with the momentum. No matter what the Orcs tried to do, they could not lay a single hand on the running little man, yet the running little man easily laid his hands on them. Legs parted from bodies, intestines spilled, heads flew. The mountain became stained with the Orcs dark blood.

  The larger, more intelligent Orc stepped forwards ready to strike. ‘More intelligent’ of course only meant this particular Orc was able to put his boots on the right way around, whereas the others all walked bow footed. And of course this particular Orc was able to differentiate between male and female, which saved on a number of terrible discrepancies.

  “You’re mine shorty!” he growled.

  “Not today puss face!” laughed the Dwarf. He grabbed the shield from his back and ripped it free from its straps. With a great leap, that looked incredibly unrealistic for a fellow of his size, he dove from the current rock he stood on, slipped the shield under his feet and continued to surf down the side of the mountain, smashing into and cracking the bones of many Orcs as he went. The ‘intelligent’ Orc was the first to be hit by the shield. It hit him on the head, cracking his skull.

  The Orc didn’t die from the impact. Instead he lost all of the few brain cells his head caged making him one of the most dim-witted, stupid Orcs to ever live. From that day on he did indeed walk bow footed due to his boots being on backwards and he did indeed mix up males with females. A terrible shock to the ugly bugger the next time he took a lovely ‘lady’ Orc back to his bedroom for a bit of rumpy pumpy.

  Still sailing down the mountain on his shield, the Dwarf laughed out loud. He was now through the main throng of Orcs and was sure that nothing could stop him. He looked at the glowing object in his hand and smiled.

  “Victory!” he shouted.

  The shield suddenly hit a large rock and flipped, forcing the Dwarf to flip along with it. An impressive show had the Dwarf been wearing his swimsuit and diving from a board. Shame about the belly flop.

  The Dwarf, shakily stood, terribly winded. He staggered. He steadied himself. He burped. He felt better. It was something his father had taught him and his father’s father had taugh
t him. A good burp solved most things.

  The Orcs had regrouped and were heading towards him. He looked into the distance. He could just make out his means of escape. He had to run now or there was no chance he would make it.

  Setting off on a sprint as fast as a Dwarf being chased by thousands of angry nasties could, the Dwarf ran whilst being chased by thousands of nasties. Not far now. Not far.

  An arrow was released from a bow. It struck the Dwarf in the back of the shoulder but he chose to ignore it. Another scar to add to his long list that stretched from his toes to the top of his forehead. He even had scars in places that most people never knew existed. How they got there was his story and his alone (and you wouldn’t ask unless you didn’t like your head being on your neck and not up your arse).

  Finally arriving at his destination he took a high leap, landing on top of the cube-like rusty object (it is best to call it cube-like because it was in no way the shape of a cube. Possibly once, yes it was. Now it resembled an ice cube that has been sat in a warm sex on the beach for too long).

  He opened a small hatch, only wide enough for him to force his bulky form inside. He sat down on the seat, which was the only thing that could fit inside the object. It was so small you could not swing a proverbial cat in it. It was so small that you couldn’t even swing a real cat in it, unless you didn’t mind the cat bouncing off the walls with every turn.

  The Dwarf adjusted his buttocks into the carefully moulded imprints on the seat of the chair and reached up to close the hatch.

  An Orc’s head thrust in through the hatch, the noseless, pointed eared, bald, green skinned monster snapped its sharp teeth, hoping to catch a part of the Dwarf within them.

  “This place ain’t big enough for the both of us Killer,” the Dwarf said. He swung the hatch closed, the thick metal striking the Orc’s neck, parting his head from it. Black blood splashed on the Dwarf’s face who cried out in triumph, the Orc’s head bouncing on his lap!

  “Time to leave this cursed planet!” he shouted. He grabbed the joystick in front of him, pressed the large button and looked to the sky.

  The cube-like metal object was in fact a spaceship in its own right. The thrusters fired and, covered in snarling Orcs, it lifted up into the sky. The few Orcs that managed to hold on to the ship, as it travelled at ridiculous speeds through the storm clouds of the barren planet, didn’t hold on for long. As soon as the ship was surrounded by the stars, their bulbous forms simply floated away. Forever to drift the endless mass of the galaxy.

  The dwarf, wearing a breathing mask, for this ship had no source of oxygen, plotted the course back to his fleet. He took one last look at his prized possession that he had worked so hard to retrieve before placing the glowing purple crystal inside a leather satchel and storing it in the glove compartment that contained no gloves.

  “Onwards!” he shouted, smiling to himself.

  The cube-like ship zoomed off into the distance.

  Chapter 12

  Pain. Oh the pain! A million needles stabbing in and out of the brain. In and out, in and out. Perhaps a million blackbirds pecking at the skull. Peck, peck, peck. Or even a million bees stinging the head. It didn’t really matter what it felt like, only that it didn’t feel nice. Not nice at all.

  When he woke this morning, Charlie Pinwright felt relatively healthy – other than the usual headache from the junk food he ate the night before, the aching back from his hard and lumpy mattress that felt like he slept on a camel and the pain in his groin from really, really needing a wee.

  Now however, his body hurt all over from falling down those steps, his throat was sore from all the screaming and now his head was pounding like it had never pounded before. And on top of all of that he had a pain in his groin from really, really needing a wee.

  “I feel abused,” he grumbled as he slowly sat up rubbing his head, his bum numb from the cold floor. All of the lights were off again but they were slowly flickering back on. Greebol was standing by the porthole, looking out into space.

  “Strange… very strange,” he muttered to himself. “It is not right. None of it is right.”

  “The golden light,” said Charlie, standing and stepping over to Greebol, “was it the same thing that hit your electrical earlier?”

  “The very same. And the same thing has happened once again.”

  “Well,” Charlie chuckled, “at least the electrical seems in once piece this time. How about you take me back home now, worry about the rest later?”

  “I cannot Charlie,” the Gumthar sighed.

  Charlie began to feel that terrible feeling of rage surge through him once again. “You will take me back!” he shouted. “You said you would! You can’t go back on your word now!”

  “No… I mean I really cannot take you back,” Greebol said, great concern in his voice. “Your planet Charlie… Earth… it is no longer there.”

  The scruffy haired Human slapped his face against the porthole, his features squashing against the glass. He stared out into the endless night. Stars. That was all he could see. Earth was no longer there.

  “We’ve moved away from it,” he gibbered like a turkey, “we’re too far away to see it. Of course Earth is still there. Of course it is! We’re just facing the wrong direction. Right? Greebol? Right?”

  Greebol had turned on the screen above the steering square and was tapping touch screen-like buttons on it, bringing up maps and star charts and lists of endless information and pictures of star clusters, solar systems, various suns, constellations, red hot sex with busty babes. Greebol’s grey face turned a shade of red as he quickly switched off the screen.

  “You should not have seen that,” he said quietly. But Charlie was not listening. He was still pressed against the porthole window. Greebol wondered if he was stuck.

  “Earth is gone,” he continued slowly, “there is no trace of it ever existing. Your entire solar system has vanished as if it was never there in the first place.”

  It was clear from Charlie’s glass squashed expression that he did not understand.

  “Before I was first hit by the peculiar golden glow your system did not register on my scans. You did not exist. Then, after the golden light, you were there. Now you are gone once again. How very strange.”

  But there was more. Greebol read reports and scanned vast areas. Silence filled the room as he worked. Charlie was unable to speak. He watched as Greebol moved about the control panels, pushing and prodding.

  A thousand thoughts ran through Charlie’s mind. What if he were unable to return to Earth? Would it really be such a bad thing? Would he be able to fit in, way out here in space? He supposed his life in the far reaches of the galaxy could not be much worse than his life on Earth.

  “Everything is different,” Greebol said with a gasp. “Everything has changed! Doing these scans I can see that my home world is still there. I can see many planets and stars that I recognise… but there are also other planets… other stars. They should not be here, yet they are. How very confusing.” He stepped over to the porthole and pointed out.

  “See that star constellation?” He pointed over to a cluster of lights that resembled a donkey being eaten by a giant mongoose with rabbit ears on its head and in its hand a purple umbrella. How it was obvious that the umbrella was purple is hard to explain. But it was.

  “It is not supposed to be there,” Greebol continued. “There used to be an interesting nebula there that turned anything green that flew too close into pink. I had a green skinned May’orn friend named Hen’Nosa… built like a brick, had been sentenced to death in fifteen systems, feared across the galaxy. Now of course, bright pink, he is a laughing stock. People call him the pink pansy. He went into retirement four years ago and has not been seen since. Some say he is now a woman… I am not sure how true that story is.”

  “You’re rambling,” Charlie grunted.

  “Yes, but my point is that things have changed. This is all wrong… very wrong. It is very disturbing.” />
  “Then what are we going to do?” said Charlie. “How am I going to get back home?”

  Greebol thought. A clock ticked in his head. It was one of those annoying ticking clocks that kept you awake at night. Charlie tapped his foot impatiently.

  “The scientist!” Greebol called out at last, a finger pointed in the air. He bounded over to the nipple door and pressed the button once. It opened and he stepped into the darkness.

  Shaking his head and moving very slowly, Charlie followed the alien into the gloomy room.

  “Ohhh, the bathroom,” said Charlie with a nervous smile hoping that Greebol would get the joke. He didn’t.

  “As I have already said there is no bathroom on the electrical.”

  “No bathroom?” Charlie repeated as Greebol stepped over to the canister on the far side of the room. “How do you… you know…?”

  “I take what is called an anti-leak tablet,” Greebol said as he pressed the red button, defrosting the blue skinned alien inside. “Originally created to stick in leaking pipes but soon discovered, by us long term space travellers, as an effective way to beat the most natural of all leaks.”

  “That’s lovely,” Charlie said solemnly.

  “I will get you one if you like.”

  “I’m alright thanks.”