Shock the Monkey, page 26
Sahara made her way over the bone-strewn ground to them. “Did you see that? I thought there was only one of those gooey blob-things. Where did they even come from?”
“No idea,” said Noah.
“The birds were mine,” bragged Claire. “Sort of.”
Then Noah turned at a strange gnashing sound and saw Andi, looking more exhausted than he’d ever seen her, fall to her knees and double over. Gears popped out of her artificial skin, churning and grinding. Noah could tell she had lapsed into low-power mode and was converting back into suitcase form—but she was too damaged to make the transformation.
“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” she muttered.
“Let me help,” said Noah, and gently guided the pieces of her singed and dented outer shell into place.
“I’m the one who’s supposed to be helping and protecting you,” she said weakly. “I’m sorry I’ve failed you, Noah.”
“You haven’t, Andi. You’ve always been right there.”
“Shut up,” Andi said. “Let me have the satisfaction of feeling sorry for myself.”
Noah grinned. “Okay,” he said gently. “If, just this once, you’ll let me have the satisfaction of taking care of you.”
Andi sighed. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” Then she dipped her head, and Noah sat on her back until her outer shell closed and the latch clicked into place.
Just then, a sudden blast of heat drew their attention—and they realized that not all the Usurpers had been eaten. There was still one left.
Slash, who had been protected by Raymond’s living body, had grabbed the flamethrower from the skeleton of Predator Fred, and had set the web on fire.
“Don’t let him get away!” Noah yelled. But Slash was already gone.
And at that very moment, the ground shook with such bone-quaking force, it felt as if a mountain had fallen from the sky.
30
Take Us to Your Leader
THE GREAT SHIP OF THE TRIBUNAL, FINDING NO DESIGNATED landing area large enough, set their mountain down upon the palace’s southwest corner, completely crushing it—because any planet without the consideration to construct a mountain-sized landing pad deserved a lesson in the importance of courtesy.
The three judges stood stone-faced as the landing ramp lowered. That is to say their faces were actually stone. In fact, the infamous carved heads on Easter Island were modeled after the Tribunal during their one and only trip to Earth—not to pass judgment, but for vacation. It was an idyllic spot—but the local life-forms began to worship them. Which was nice for the first five minutes, then was just annoying. It ruined their vacation.
The planet on which they had just arrived, newly designated Claire, was not a vacation spot by any stretch of the imagination. This was business. This visit was about judgment, the rule of law, and punishment. But mostly punishment.
Forlo watched the ship come down, and, as the ramp descended into the rubble of the palace’s southwest corner, he strode forward to greet the three judges, to slow them down, and hopefully to create some spin in Claire’s favor.
On his way, he had managed to make a quick stop in a cloakroom where he replaced his worn-out jacket with a long robe, heavily embroidered, very regal-looking. Just the kind of thing in which to greet Galactic VIPs.
The three justices were mostly head, with short, stout bodies and stubby stone legs. Forlo stood in their path as they descended the ramp, his arms spread wide in greeting.
“Honored Judges! I, Forlo of B’light, welcome you to our planet, and am pleased to give you an extensive tour before you settle in for the trial!”
“We have no wish to tour. We would like to begin this trial as soon as possible,” said the chief justice. “Are you the ruler of this planet?”
“Guilty!” said the judge on one side.
“Not yet!” shushed the judge on his other side.
These were the Left Hand of Justice, and the Right Hand of Justice, standing like granite bookends.
“Me? Ruler? No, certainly not!” said Forlo.
“But you wear the robes of a king!” observed the chief justice.
Forlo looked down at the robe, seeing the royal crest on the chest for the first time. Perhaps his former rags would have been better. “If it pleases the court, I am merely the First Citizen of a single city.”
Then the chief justice frowned. “It does not please the court.” Then he spoke what were arguably the most common words uttered upon alien arrivals:
“Take us to your leader.”
“But, Your Honors,” said Forlo, “wouldn’t you prefer to see the Usurpers who actually created the violations you’ve come to judge? Let me bring you to them instead!”
“Bah!” said the chief justice. “While we have no love of Usurpers, the law is clear. Upon ascension to rulership, the current landowner is responsible for any and all violations.”
“Guilty!” yelled the Left Hand of Justice.
“Still not time,” said the Right Hand of Justice.
“But surely you have more important things to do than trouble yourselves with the affairs of a small humble planet such as ours,” Forlo pointed out.
“Yes,” agreed the chief justice, “but time matters not, as we can be in many places at once.”
“In fact, we even have a brother,” added the Right Hand of Justice, “who dresses festively and delivers holiday gifts to entire planets on a single night!”
“Do not speak of him!” ordered the chief justice. “He is dead to us.”
Suddenly, far-off wails of agony and terror erupted from the distant courtyard, and it drew the attention of the justices.
“What’s going on there?” the chief justice demanded. “Out of our way! If the execution has begun without us, we will be greatly miffed.”
Slash raced up the grand staircase and through the palace’s upper chambers to escape the humans. UnEqua had often dismissed his choice to have a live host, what with all the trouble wrangling its pesky consciousness. Well, Slash had the last laugh because UnEqua was now being digested in the belly of a bird. As were all their Usurper underlings.
Unfortunately, that left Slash vulnerable.
Slash felt the ground shake when the Tribunal landed. Time to make a hasty exit. It was just a matter of getting to the garden where his ship waited. That he would be the only Usurper to survive this planet didn’t bother him. After all, usurping can be a dangerous game. And his new partnership with Mittens the Cat—one of the Galaxy’s greatest criminal masterminds—was certainly a step up from UnEqua.
But before he could reach the ship, he was cornered in an upstairs hallway by the human N.O.A.H., whom Mittens had told him about, along with that three-armed creature that had also been in the courtyard attack. It was a species Slash knew the name of but couldn’t put Raymond’s finger on it.
“You’re not escaping,” the N.O.A.H. said. “We’re not going to let Claire pay for what you’ve done to this planet.”
“It can’t be stopped now that she’s been crowned,” Slash told him. “The Tribunal will judge her and execute her within the hour.”
“You’d better hope that’s not true,” said the N.O.A.H., “because if that happens, I swear I’ll pull you out of Raymond’s brain and crush you between my fingers.”
That made Slash laugh; bigger beings had tried!
Just then an image was projected into Slash’s mind—the image of a laundry chute just a few feet away. If he was able to slip into it and down to the first floor, it was only a dozen yards to the garden where the ship waited! He was just a few feet from freedom!
But who had projected that thought into his mind?
At the sound of a sly meow, he realized, without even looking, that it was his new business partner standing behind him.
“Mittens!” said the human. “I should have known you were working with this creep.”
And then it suddenly occurred to Slash exactly what kind of creature the boy’s three-armed companion was. Oh, this was glorious and would play in Slash’s favor!
“You’re a Triastral!” Slash said. “I didn’t think there were any of you left.”
“What do you mean?” asked the Triastral.
The human N.O.A.H. seemed to panic. “Don’t you talk to my friend! Don’t you dare say anything!”
But Slash wasn’t about to shut up now. This was an opportunity to fluster these two enough to slip past them and down that shaft.
“I’ve been to your planet; the Fauxlites have done wonders with it! Now Triastra is a dead frost world, void of life—but perfect for cold weather sports. What humans call skiing, sledding, and skating. And with no planetary life to get in the way, it’s perfect.”
“Wh-what do you mean, no life?” the Triastral said, taking the bait.
“Jad! Don’t listen to him!” begged the human.
Slash feigned surprise. “You mean you didn’t know? How terribly sad for you.” Slash was a master of many things, but manipulating the emotions of sentimental species was something he excelled in.
“Cover your ears,” the human N.O.A.H. said to the Triastral—who didn’t have the wisdom to take the other’s advice.
“Since everything and everyone on your planet was killed when it was terraformed,” continued Slash, “I’ll bet you’re the last one! Although I hear that the Fauxlites have a planet where they keep specimens of everything. Is that where you escaped from? The World of Last Life?” Then Slash shook his head in mock sympathy. “What a pity. Yours was a beautiful species. But people do need their winter sports.”
Noah knew capturing Slash wasn’t going to be easy, but he had never anticipated this. He could see all of Jad’s fur rising, standing on end, but not in a cute furball kind way. It was more like the needle-fine quills of some alien porcupine.
“That’s not true,” growled Jad. “You’re lying! It’s not true!” Then Jad looked to Noah, pleading. “Tell me he’s lying, Noah.…”
Noah wished he could, but he didn’t have it in him to deny the truth anymore. “We can talk about it later, Jad,” he said. It felt like trying to talk someone off a ledge.
That’s when Slash made his move, bolting toward a linen closet with a laundry chute that was just wide enough for Raymond’s scrawny frame to fit through. Noah, with all his animal speed and agility, couldn’t move quickly enough to stop him.
But Jad could.
Jad didn’t just move—the anguished Triastral teleported to the spot, blocking the chute. And in Jad’s eyes, Noah could see grief so white-hot it was like looking into the sun. And although it was the Fauxlites that Jad was truly angry at, it was Slash who was there to represent and bear the brunt of all the fury of every lost species of Triastra.
Noah could only hope that Raymond’s consciousness was good and gone, because he knew there was no stopping what was coming next.
Slash quickly found that Raymond’s body was no match for a feral Triastral. Slash was slammed against the wall, the ceiling, the floor, over and over. A breath of blue flame set his clothes on fire, then acidic vomit doused it, only to burn in an even more terrible way. The Triastral gave off a screech loud enough to burst the eardrums of this human host, and Slash was speared by dozens of quills tipped with poison, not meant to kill but only to deliver intense, excruciating pain. Triastra might have once been a kind and gentle place, but its species certainly knew how to defend themselves.
Slash now knew that telling this creature the truth was a serious miscalculation. But there was always a way out, and Slash always found it. He would not let the last member of an extinct species destroy him. And then he saw his salvation watching from a dozen feet away, looking concerned but also very much amused.
The cat!
While the Triastral took out its anger on this human body, Slash let go of it and wormed his way up from Raymond’s brain stem and out through his left ear. Then, seeing a clear line between him and Mittens, launched himself into the air.
For a moment, but only a moment, he was nothing but a small green worm flying through the musty hallway—but then he landed on the edge of the cat’s right eye and quickly burrowed into a tear duct.
Mittens. Went. Berserk.
He was not having this! He had partnered with the Usurpers to get off this planet, but partnering with one and being taken over by one were two very different things. Mittens fizzed up and jumped and yowled and sprang like a Halloween cat, doing everything within his power to shake the little green worm out—but to no avail, because he now felt Slash there, in his brain stem, trying to seize control of his body.
In any other circumstance, it would have been easy for Mittens to slip down the laundry chute and get to the spaceship, but he was too busy fighting for control of his own feline body. And he was losing.
Slash was amazed he hadn’t thought of this before! A Usurper in the body of a telepathic cat that was also a criminal genius—it was the perfect power play! If everything went right from this moment forth, he could be the most powerful Usurper who ever lived! Worlds would fall before him, making Slash a contender for domination of the known universe. So he burrowed deeper.
Ogden arrived just in time to see the little green worm leap to the cat. He saw Mittens fizz up and bounce around the corridor—and he knew exactly what had happened.
“Ogden! Stop Mittens!” Noah yelled, which was easier said than done. But Ogden knew, no matter what, he couldn’t let Mittens get away—not with a Usurper inside him—because this wasn’t just bad for Mittens. It would be bad for everyone, everywhere.
Ogden considered Mittens, considered the hallway, considered his options. And all at once an idea came to him!
Because even hairless, Ogden was still full of harebrained schemes.…
Noah could have gone after Mittens himself, but he couldn’t just stand there and let Jad continue to rip into poor, defenseless Raymond.
“The Usurper’s gone, Jad. It’s in the cat now, let Raymond go.”
Then weakly, frailly, Raymond said, “Whatever you are, please stop hurting me.…” Noah’s insistence, combined with Raymond’s helpless plea, finally got through, and Jad was able to get all those alien animal instincts tamped down enough to let Raymond go.
Raymond collapsed onto Noah, grimacing and wracked with pain.
“It’s going to be okay, Raymond,” Noah said, although he wasn’t sure if that was true.
Then Jad, still shaking from the ordeal, reached out toward Raymond.
“Jad, no,” said Noah. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”
“It’s not what you think.” Then Jad placed a palm against Raymond’s forehead. “The Touchbliss uses neural resonance to shut down pain receptors, so its prey feels no pain when it’s eaten,” Jad said. “But I guess I can use it any way I like.” And then, in an instant, Raymond stopped grimacing, relaxed, and slumped like a child coming down from a tantrum.
“Is that thing in my brain gone?” he asked.
Noah nodded. “It’s gone, Raymond.”
Raymond turned to Jad. “Thanks for getting it out,” he said. Then he passed out in Noah’s arms.
Ogden watched Mittens staggering, still fighting the losing battle with Slash. Time was of the essence here—because once Slash was in full control, his plan wouldn’t work. Quickly Ogden went a short distance down the hall, then pulled open a door with a hearty, hefty creeeeeeak that made Mittens’s ears perk up.
“Mittens,” he said pleasantly, as if he were just calling the family cat. “Mittens, look over here! Look!”
Deep within his own mind, Mittens struggled to regain the upper hand. Then he saw Ogden open the door. That was enough to give Mittens momentary control over his legs—because there is something deeper in a cat than consciousness or even curiosity. There is, in every cat, the overwhelming, all-consuming, irresistible desire to drop everything, to abandon any sense of decorum or restraint, and go through an open door.
Slash, just beginning to latch onto the cat’s brain stem, felt the surge of urgency as the cat ran toward the threshold. No! Slash screamed. No, you mustn’t! But that was yet another miscalculation. Because anyone who knows anything about cats knows that you never tell a cat what not to do.
Mittens leaped through the door and into the room on the other side, knocking over a hat rack that, admittedly, had been very poorly placed to begin with.
“Meowwowwwowww,” Mittens wailed, avoiding the falling hat rack.
Look what you’ve done! yelled Slash in their joined mind, all his dreams of galactic domination crumbling to dust. We’ll never get out of here! We’re doomed!
Mittens turned and tried to race back out the open door, only to find himself turned back around, and knocking over the hat rack again.
“Meowwowwwowww.”
Look what you’ve done! We’ll never get out of here! We’re doomed!
Mittens tried again, only to knock over the hat rack once more.
“Meowwowwwowww.”
And now Slash had no choice but to resign himself to a very different eternity than he had planned, stuck in the mind of a very angry cat.
Look what you’ve done. We’ll never get out of here. We’re doomed.
“Meowwowwwowww.”
Meanwhile, on the other side of the doorway, Ogden looked sadly upon Mittens jumping out of the way of the falling hat rack for the fourth time, and said, with far more compassion than you might imagine:
“Bad kitty…”
Then he slowly closed the door to the Mobius Suite, never to be opened again.
31
All Kinds of Guilty
THE RESIDENTS OF B’LIGHT, P’LIGHT, AND S’LIGHT, THE THREE cities nearest to the palace, stood in awe as they witnessed the colossal mountain descending from the sky, a sight that could only herald the arrival of the Tribunal of Ancients. Whispers spread like wildfire through the bustling streets as the news spread.
