Intergalactic Terrorist (New Dimension Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter 5

The alien, going by the name of Greebol, smiled his unusually wide smile and wiped Charlie’s face with a wet cloth that he took out from the small drawer in the wall. Charlie was back inside the spaceship and lying on the metal table once again. He stared madly at the grey skinned alien as he moved about his ship. He dared not move, however a mad cramp struck his leg, probably due to the amount of steps he had fallen down only moments earlier. He tried to ignore it but the pain became too extreme and he was forced to sit up and rub his calf frantically.

    “Cramp?” said the alien with a genuine sound of concern. “Try this?” He reached back into the small drawer and pulled out a bottle similar to a flask and handed it to Charlie, who opened it cautiously. At once a small pink blob jumped from the neck of the bottle landing on Charlie’s injured leg. As he desperately tried to rip the peculiar slimy substance from him, it began to expand until it covered his entire leg. A warm sensation emitted from it and for a moment Charlie wondered if he had actually peed himself. Then, as quickly as it had attached, the pink blob removed itself from his leg and Charlie realised, to his embarrassment, that he had indeed peed himself!

    The pink blob bounced back into the bottle and the alien named Greebol popped the lid back on. Charlie discovered his leg no longer hurt. In fact his leg had never felt better.

    “Handy little fellow to have around,” Greebol said smiling. “Found him on the remote planet of Anterilax. He is some sort of healing fluid creature… little intelligence… an overpowering need to cure. As he absorbs your pain he appears to feed from it. I call him Bob.”

    “Erm… thank you?” Charlie responded, not really knowing what to say. “Can I go home now? Please?”

    Greebol placed the bottle back into the drawer and closed it. He slapped his hands together and smiled that large, uncomfortable smile once again. “You cannot go yet Charlie… you have yet to fix my electrical.”

    “I can’t fix your spaceship,” Charlie gibbered, “I am not a technician! I’m just a call centre agent and I’m not even that anymore thanks to you!” Courage began to take hold of him. It was all he had left. “You can’t go around abducting people,” he said sternly, “it is illegal!”

    “For your planet maybe,” Greebol said.

    “It should be illegal on
every
planet! I have rights you know! I have a life… albeit not much of one. I demand you return me to my home at once!”

    Greebol appeared a little shocked. “I never knew your species were so passionate,” he began. “Admittedly I never even knew your species existed until today! I crashed here you see. There I was, flying perfectly normally through space, when all of a sudden there was a bright golden light that expanded from the distance at a speed faster than a sheep chased by horny drunk man. It covered my ship, I was knocked off course, my engines cut out. The next thing I knew I was hurtling towards this remote planet! Luckily I managed to stabilise my electrical before it smashed into a million pieces!”

    Charlie crossed his arms and said, “That’s all very well but…”

    “And then the strangest thing happened…” Greebol continued, not seeming to notice Charlie had spoken. Something Charlie was more than used to, “…I spoke your primitive language! Not very well I admit… something I corrected whilst you were just unconscious on my table.” He picked up the dictionary and shook it with a smug look on his face. “I learned!”

    “I really don’t care,” Charlie said stubbornly, “I just want to go home…”

    “You cannot go home! You need to fix my electrical!”

    “As I have already said Mr Greebot or whatever you name is…”  Charlie wondered if he was correct in calling this alien ‘Mr’. For all he knew it could be a Mrs. Heck, it could even be some sort of gender that he had never heard of, but he didn’t feel it appropriate to look down the alien's pants. Besides, he hadn’t known him long enough for anything like that. “I cannot fix this spaceship,” he continued, “I don’t even know how to fix the leak under my kitchen sink. I just stick a bucket under it! The level of water leaked from that pipe must match that of the river Nile! Could quench the thirst of an entire drought affected tribe for years! Would be enough to support the building of an ark! I cannot fix things! The light in my bedroom has been broken for months… although that’s probably not so bad the things those dirty Turkish butchers get up to… meat slapped in all the wrong places.” He shuddered.

    “But do you not work at King George’s Electric Repairs?” asked Greebol hopefully.

    “Not any longer! And even when I did my job was to answer telephones. Other people did the fixing!”

    Greebol looked as though someone had kicked him in the groin – presuming he had one. His small, squinting yellow eyes almost filled with tears. The strange antennae on top of his head drooped as though he had suddenly received a cold shower.

    “But… how will I ever get home?” he said sadly, “I do not want to be trapped here… forced to wear my Image-Rendering Mask for the rest of my two hundred year long life!”

    A pang of pity hit Charlie. Even though this alien had abducted him, he felt sorry for him. A thought occurred to him that Greebol wasn’t actually that different to him. Apart from the obvious fact that his face looked like a grey cows udder.

    “There must be some way of fixing this thing,” he said, patting Greebol on the shoulder. For someone who had just met an alien for the first time, Charlie thought he was handling it rather well. “There must be someone else that can help?”

    Greebol’s yellow eyes turned slowly, stopping as they met Charlie’s. “Someone… else?” he said meekly. Then with a sudden new blast of gusto he sprang forward, planting a large sloppy wet kiss on Charlie’s lips. Charlie fell back disgusted as he tried to wipe the cold dead feel of those extraterrestrial lips from his. Being abducted by an alien was one thing… being embraced in a somewhat passionate lip-lock with one was another thing altogether. He hoped he hadn’t caught anything. He hoped he wasn’t pregnant!

    Greebol bounded over with a head achingly amount of enthusiasm and switched on a small screen where one of the porthole windows had previously been. Instantly television appeared. Not alien television but full colour Human television! Charlie almost wailed with joy at seeing something familiar! There was a cornflakes advert… and an old re-run of Starsky and Hutch! There was University Challenge and Trevor McDonald on the news! And there… there was Geoffrey George in his ridiculous advert!

    Greebol had been flicking through the various channels and had now found what he was looking for.

    “The King you can trust,” said Geoffrey George, dressed in a royal cloak and crown, sitting on a large throne, whilst the sound of trumpets blasted in the background. “You can trust my electrical repairs!”

    A jester appeared on the screen trying to juggle a number of items: a television, a radio and a toaster. He slipped on a banana skin, dropping the electrical items, which smashed on the floor. Forced canned laughter filled the air.

    “Don’t trust any old joker,” Geoffrey George continued, “trust me! King George! Call me today! At King George’s Electrical Repairs we can fix anything electrical!”

    As the advert came to a close, Geoffrey George was surrounded by children holding electrical goods, staring up at him like some sort of electrical god whilst a Michael Jackson song played on a
bontempi
organ.

    “Prick,” Charlie muttered as the advert finished and Greebol switched off the screen.

    “Perhaps,” the grey skinned alien said, “but he is a prick who knows his stuff! His stuff about electrical repairs! I finally understand it now. You were just part of a large organisation… just one little worker in a huge working world!”

    “That’s right.”

    “You were just a pawn… a drone… at the bottom of the ladder… the last man to know anything… a nobody-“

    “Alright, alright we get the picture,” Charlie grumbled crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

    “There
is
someone else who can fix my electrical,” Greebol exclaimed with joy.

    “Well…” said Charlie looking around at the button-clad room, “at least someone who is better qualified than I am.”

    “Then I shall fetch them!” Greebol replaced the mask back onto his face. For a moment it sat there, bright white, not a feature upon it. Greebol pushed something underneath the chin and instantly a nose and ears began to form, followed by eyes and a mouth. Eventually, after all of the features appeared, the skin turned from the bright white to the plastic looking peachy colour, the hair turned jet black and the moustache, the one that made the man mask look like an Italian car salesman, grew under the nose.

    The moustached man was back.

    “It is called an Image-Rendering Mask,” the Human looking moustached Greebol explained, “I bought it in Baggus’Regious obviously. Was created by a one-eyed prostitute called Lousina. She was a failed scientist – hence the prostitution. To be honest she was a terrible scientist… but great at her secondary profession.” And he winked. “Now, when not pleasuring men with her fish-netted tentacles, she sells illegal inventions. And they are pricey too. But well worth it. This Image-Rendering Mask changes to look like whatever species you are currently thinking about. Clever stuff!”

    Charlie was impressed. He was sure that there were many things this alien had that would be far more advanced than anything on Earth. Except for maybe in Japan.

    “So this erm… prostitute… Lousina… she is a one-eyed alien is she?” Charlie asked curiously.

    “She is now,” Greebol chuckled, “after her pimp cut her other two out!” He walked over to the door and opened the lock once again. “I will not be long. Make yourself at home. I recommend you pour yourself a hot cup of enlog. Squirms as it goes down the throat!” With that he stepped out of the spaceship and closed the door behind him.

    Charlie ran to the already closed door, banging on it as hard as he could. “Don’t you leave me in here!” he shouted. “Let me leave! I want to go home! Don’t you leave me in here! Don’t you leave me in here!”

    He slumped down onto the floor and sighed. He did not belong here yet for some reason he was beginning to feel at home.

Chapter 6

Frank Barber and Stanley Firm stood by the lakeside watching the waters surface. For the last thirty years they had come to this lake. It was their time away from their lives, away from their wives and families. They had known one another for years. Now, in their sixties, they might not be able to do as much as they could when they were younger but they hadn’t lost that lust for life.

    Frank’s fishing rod began to bend and his float dipped under the water, teasing the surface. He grabbed hold of the reel and began to turn. This one felt like a whopper! Stanley adjusted his fishing hat and rushed back to the tent, grabbing the keep net. He unfolded until it stretched out wide, looking like one of his wife’s stockings.

    “This one’s a keeper,” he said to Frank who was gritting his teeth, trying his best to keep the fish. Slowly it was pulled closer and closer to the lakeside. This had to be a prize carp for sure!

    “Here it comes!” Frank shouted as he pulled upwards for one final tug at the rod. The surface of the water splashed upwards as the fish that the fisherman had hooked flung up out of the water.

    Frank and Stanley stared at the ‘fish’ in disappointment, confusion and slight amusement. Hooked on the end of the line was an old Wellington boot covered in weed.

    There was a sudden rustle from the bushes nearby. Frank and Stanley panicked. There were rumours of savage, wild animals in the forest. They had never witnessed one in all their time coming here but still it was enough of a scare to force them into each other’s arms as they huddled together in a frightened embrace.

    Closer the unseen rustler of the bushes came. Twigs broke beneath it as it moved. Whatever it was, it moved erratically, almost as though it twitched as it slunk through the undergrowth. Frank and Stanley held their breath as it finally emerged.

    It was a metal sphere, about the size of a basketball, with six metallic robotic legs sprouting from beneath, moving it along like a bug. It stopped a few feet away from the two huddling men, the legs retracting inside the spherical body. There it sat, still once again, as if it had never moved at all.

    Slowly, Frank stepped over to the sphere. He prodded it with his stick, cowering back expecting it to explode. Nothing happened. He began to chuckle.

    “It’s just a glorified coffee machine,” Frank chortled, “fancy a latte?”

    “I’ll have a cappuccino if one’s going?” Stanley responded reaching into his backpack and bringing out a fine china cup and saucer set.

    Suddenly a flap opened at the top the sphere and a long thin metal stick emerged, unfolding outwards until it reached the height of Frank’s face. Without warning a second sphere the size of a tennis ball popped up from the top of it. The second sphere had an eye in it. It blinked. Frank stepped backwards.

    “You might want to put away that china Stanley,” he whispered, “I’m not sure this is a coffee machine after all.”

    “That’s a shame,” said Stanley, “I was looking forward to a late night cuppa.”

    The eye on the end of the metal stick scanned the area. It looked up and down the two men, who were once again embracing in each other for protection, wearing their fishing hats and large boots. It looked at the small two-man tent and the single double sleeping bag inside. It looked across to the bag of pampering products and baby oil on the floor. It looked to the pink car they had driven in with the love heart bumper stickers.

    With one sudden move the sphere opened up, metal grinding against metal as thick robotic arms and legs stretched outwards, followed by a small rounded head with glowing red eyes. Straightening up to its full height it stood at least three foot higher than the two fishermen. It turned its head towards them and spoke through a grill where the mouth should be in sporadic, tinny bursts of speech.

“YOU… ARE… NOT… THE… UNWELCOME!”

    “This is true,” said Stanley, “we have always been welcomed in this forest. Back in our small country town however it is a different story. I’m a married man. Frank here has three children! People just wouldn’t understand our love for one another.”

    The robot tilted its head to one side, clearly confused as to what the men were talking about.

    “I won’t forget that time we worked up in the mountains,” Frank said, staring longingly into the other’s eyes, “looking after those sheep. I remember the drinking… the play fighting… dressing up as Little Bo Peep…”

    “I dressed up as a wolf,” put in Stanley, “and chased you around the mountain tops growling!”

    “You were an animal!”

    “But that night…
you
were the animal!”

    “Simpler times Stanley. Simpler times.”

 
 
“ENOUGH!
”
snapped the robot, its head spinning in confusion of these two strange looking beings
,
“YOU… ARE… NOT… THE… ONE… I… AM… LOOKING… FOR!
”

    It raised one of its arms, pointing it towards the two fishermen. A strange orange glow emitted from a large weapon fixed to the end of its arm. The two men held each other tightly, ready for the end. The weapon fired a blast of orange laser light towards the men who squealed with fright!

    When the bright light from the laser dimmed, the robot curled itself back into the sphere, metal grinding against metal. The six legs extended once again and the sphere scurried off into the forest.

    All was quiet by the lakeside. Where the two men had stood, only a pile of their clothes remained - two fish with slightly Human faces flapping wildly amongst them.