Intergalactic Terrorist (New Dimension Book 1) (11 page)

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.”

    Charlie looked inside the first canister containing the pig-like alien. It had a big bruise on its forehead from Charlie’s earlier attack. Charlie was still proud of himself for his quick reactions but hoped that Greebol wouldn’t notice his opponent’s war wounds. Charlie chose not to look at the sleeping beautiful alien. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head since he had seen her. He was still reeling from the loss of his planet. He didn’t want to have the privilege of feeling anything but self pity and sorrow right now.

   
Ping!

    The lid on the second canister opened. A strange gurgling noise was heard within.

    “Now,” Greebol began, “this particular fellow is a little hard to talk to. He does not really have any social skills. You know what scientists are like.”

    It was true. Charlie did know scientists. He had been in a science group at school. He liked to think of himself as a bit of a nerd – computer games, science-fiction, the internet – but apparently, considering the other pupils in the group, he was miles away from Nerdsville. In fact he couldn’t even see its boundaries. The others in the group wore thick glasses, had buck teeth, terrible clothes and all had so many allergies and ailments that it was like being in a doctors waiting room. A doctor’s waiting room for nerds. None of them spoke anything other than science techo-babble. One only ever spoke in binary. To an outsider it must have felt like being in a different country.

    And of course they were all much better than Charlie at science. In fact Charlie only lasted two weeks as he accidentally made the class hamster explode when he was supposed to be drawing a pie chart.

    The blue alien sat up and blinked. His eyes were also blue but a darker shade. His forehead creased causing the ten billion wrinkles on his face to morph into twenty. He no longer looked old. He looked ancient. Age old skin stretched over bones.

    “I appear to be on an electrical,” the old thing said, his voice frail and cracked, “Gumthar in origin.” He cocked his head to one side as though listening, although Charlie could see no ears. “Ah… it is propelled by triple-sized boot engines. Probably a D class electrical. Should have been scrapped years ago.”

    “See what I mean,” said Greebol.

    The scientist finally seemed to notice them and stared at them with confused and slightly worried eyes. “Gumthar,” he said to Greebol and then looked to Charlie, “and an unidentified pink skinned alien.”

    Charlie was slightly insulted at being called an alien.

    “I see, I see,” the scientist continued, “this is a kidnapping correct? Let me guess… you Gumthar are a bounty hunter. No doubt hired by some unintelligent being that disagrees with my brilliant theories. Is one correct?”

    Greebol shifted on his feet slightly and looked down at the floor.

    “Is one correct Gumthar sir?” the blue skinned scientist continued.

    “Possibly,” Greebol grumbled.

    “Well you have me,” the blue skinned, straggly grey haired scientist continued.

    “Yes we do,” said Greebol. “Now I need you to-”

    “What an interesting piece of equipment,” interrupted the blue skinned, straggly haired, old, oh so very old, alien as he looked down at the canister he sat in. “Crude, very much so, but interesting. Ah I see you use polarized hyper-cooling neon ice in order to make the freezing process a success. It is a surprise that you did not kill me sir!”

    “Alright shut up now professor,” Greebol growled. “I need your help.”

    “I’m afraid one does not help criminals.”

    “There is something wrong with the galaxy,” Greebol persisted. “Everything seems to have changed.”

    Instantly the blue skinned scientist’s interest perked. Something wrong with the galaxy? Now this
was
something that he was interested in. It was something he could sink his teeth into. Of course he was so old that he had none of his real teeth left. They had fallen out years ago. Still, he could sink his dentures into it.

    He jumped from the canister, with more grace and agility then Charlie would have expected and rushed from the room muttering equations. Greebol was about to follow when Charlie stopped him.

    “Who is he?” he asked.

    “His name is Professor Amirous Phililanous Phstophogus and he is from a species called the Lampans,” Greebol said. “They are not much to write home about, but this fellow… he is a clever old sod. Has solved some of life’s most complex questions. This has of course put him out of favour with many groups, mainly the religious types. He proved to the galaxy what really happens to you when you die…”

    “And what would that be?” Charlie asked with keen interest.

    “I cannot remember now,” Greebol said shrugging. “Something to do with sparkly pants and soft cheese.”

    “And why have you woken him?"

    “Because my friend,” said Greebol with a twinkle in his yellow eye, “he might just be able to tell us what is going on around here!”

    They stepped through the door after the scientist.

   
SMACK
!

    Amirous rubbed his lack of a nose. It smarted.

    “A very clever and… unique security device,” he said sniffing. “Let me guess… it works on a sensor spring basis? It would work a little better if it was on a sixteen degree angle… may I suggest that-”

    “No you cannot,” Greebol butted in, putting the security hand back into its hidden socket at the side of the main door. “Trying to leave were you professor?” 

    “It is the first duty of any captured scientist… to attempt escape. Either escape or discover a new form of radiation, create a gaseous vortex from it and disintegrate his captors,” Amirous said smugly.

    Charlie looked out of the porthole and back to the professor. “You do realise we’re in the middle of space?” he said confused. “Open that door and you’ll float away… like a balloon. Or a kite. Or a hot air balloon. Actually the list is endless. And there’s no air in space so you wouldn’t be able to breath!” Charlie wondered if this professor was as clever as Greebol made out. Even Charlie knew not to open the door of a spaceship into space. And this was his first spaceship!

    “Of course I am well aware of that fact,” said Amirous, “which is why I just crafted this!” He held up a makeshift space helmet and rocket pack that, to Charlie, was as makeshift as a Lamborghini. It looked perfect. How he had crafted this helmet and rocket pack in such a short time and with what equipment he would never know.

    “Now... bounty hunter… what did you say this problem was?”