Krystabald and the Great Old One
"Engage evasive maneuvers alpha!" He shouted at the AI that he had sold to the CyberSlavers on Gibson Alpha some time ago.
“Fuck!” He exclaimed again, as he realised that nothing happened, and that he had to maneuver the Kreutz S-9000 all by himself. He checked the screen to see the three red dots that were following him had dashes going out of them and moving towards him.
They were shooting at him, and the missiles hit the Kreutz at the same time that that realization hit him. The shields held for now, but three Quaradian raptors were far more than his race cruiser could take. He tried turning on the theoretical drive, but the damn spike-heads had theory-disruptors. He would have to evade them.
He took several more hits before finally managing to put the standard drive into override, and started evading the damn missiles. He was still faster, but his shields were now at 55%. A couple of hits more, and he will be fine dust.
He couldn’t even remember what he had done to the Quaradians. Sure, he hated them as much as anyone else in the galaxy, but he had made one of his life goals to evade their spike-ridden faces at first glance.
The Kreutz shook once again, and the shields where now at 44%. And there was now a plasma leakage. Great.
He had to look for a place to land. He called the screen with the scans of the current star system. There was one hospitable planet, largely oceanic, with what little land it had almost completely barren. But it was a bit on the heavier side, so even though it would be hard for him to walk, it would be doubly so for the Quaradians that were born in zero-G. In fact, they would be crushed on almost any surface if they stepped out without proper gear, but they weren’t known for their smarts, just for their ruthlessness.
Shields were now on 36.8%, and he simply had to land. He used the power from the life support systems to squeeze a bit more out of the Kreutz, and its quantum coil whined with power, its thrusters heaved at the extra heat. Krystabald couldn’t help but feel the excitement as the G’s inside the cabin increased for a moment until the inertial dampeners caught on.
The Quaradians were now lagging behind him, and he found it easier to avoid their projectiles. Their lasers hit him, of course, because he still couldn’t use the theoretical drive, but The Kreutz can take a lot of laser fire.
The planet before him was getting bigger and bigger, and he braced himself for entering the atmosphere. The screen warned him how the hull temperature increased rapidly, so he had to correct for a more gradual entry, all the while cursing himself and lamenting his shortsightedness about selling his AI.
Maybe he was a great space pilot, but he never really mastered landing. And now he was landing at speeds no sane being would even consider. But he had to do it like this if his plan was going to work.
And it worked. For all his mental incapacities, he still could master orbital mechanics better than the ones chasing him. And as a result, he witnessed one of the Raptors just burning off into the stratosphere, while another tried to raise it’s nose at a too steep angle, and after doing magnificent loops disappeared under the heavy clouds. The blip that represented the Raptor on Kristabald’s screen disappeared soon afterwards.
That left Krystabald with one more. And this one looked smart enough not only to follow him, but to continue shooting at the same time.
Krystabald thought fiercely. He dipped into the clouds, careful to not burn the hull in the process, and then dove below them. A mountain ridge was revealed to him, that ended steeply into the ocean on one side, but in a field on the other. So he steered the Kreutz while slowing down and carefully watching out for his enemy, who still seemed to be lost in the clouds.
He was getting about halfway to the ground when suddenly the Kreutz’s starboard side hit something. He couldn’t see what it was, for it was reflecting light in a frequency his mind couldn’t process, but his on-board computer could, if he cared to look at the right screen.
Or if he had an AI to warn him. He cursed terribly at the several generations of the Kamarnthians that were better at him in poker as he tried to decelerate his fall. The Kreutz crashed into several of the sparsely-grown trees in the valley, setting the weakly local vegetation on fire, before coming to a complete stop.
He checked the status. He was proud that there was minimal hull damage - a dozen trees proved no match for the Kreutz. But one of his thrusters was damaged, and he had no plasma left, meaning he was stranded here, at least until the Terentz Crystal was recharged. He immediately thought about calling a tow service, but then there was a Quaradian raptor still out there somewhere .
So he decided to sit this one out. He turned off everything in the Kreutz, making him undetectable to anything but a direct scan. And even if this land mass he was on wasn’t the largest he had seen, it would still take a while for the dumb Quaradians to find him. So, he waited for the hull too cool off, and for the grass fire to die down, before he exited the Kreutz.
The air outside proved surprisingly chilly, considering the recent fire and the fact that it was supposed to be 26°C. Other than the freshly fallen trees and the scorched grass, and the mountains to what seemed to be this planet’s East, he couldn’t really see anything.
“What the fuck did I hit?” He spoke to himself as he started walking towards the mountains.
He glimpsed at the sky, but he couldn’t see anything there expect the thick cloud cover. At least he couldn’t see any ship also, so that’s good.
He was still with his head pointed towards the sky, wiggling his tail freely while his nose and chin hit something. It was hard, and from the sound of it, it was wood. He covered his nose, which hurt as only a nose could, and when he finally removed the hand from his face he noticed in relief that there was no blood.
He looked carefully in front of him, but there was nothing there. Not anything he could see anyway. He reached for the portable scanner in his pocket.
And the scanner showed a wooden something in front. And beyond that, a complete void. The sparse grass he was seeing didn’t seem to register at all. The scanner also told him the same thing that the computer on the Kreutz was telling him if he bothered to look: the wood in front of him was normal, it just reflected light at a frequency unseen by his eyes.
He extended his free hand towards where the wooden wall should be, very carefully, until he touched it. Then he knocked on it. It responded as any plank would respond to knocking, with typical woody sound.
‘Maybe this is some kind of a door? Maybe someone inside could help me?' He thought as he intensified his knocking. First it was only knuckles, then the side of his fist, then he escalated to hitting the ‘door’ with his whole forearm. Nothing. No response.
But he could feel that the door was not very sturdy. Maybe he can break it. He stepped a bit away, careful not to make any lateral moves and miss his target, and he run and crashed his shoulder hard on the poor ‘door’. It gave a soft crack, but the scanner showed that except for the smallest hairline fracture, it was unaffected.
Krystabald of course saw this as an invitation to continue with his quest to break the ‘door’. It was at his tenth try that the ‘door’ finally cracked louder. He was glad, for his shoulder was starting to hurt a bit more than it should. He thought that one more time would be enough.
And that's when the earth started shaking, and the scanner exploded in his hand, and he quickly dropped it, and his hand hurt, but he wasn’t really feeling it.
Because the landscape before him opened, revealing the void that the scanner was insisting just before was hiding behind. He felt the deep cold that came from it, fraying at the edge of his cortex.
And then It emerged from the darkness, tentacles coming from its mouth, flying impossibly on tiny bat wings.
WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER. It came thundering inside Krystabald’s head.
He immediately genuflected, head turned towards the soil to avoid the creature’s terrible gaze.
“Oh Great Old One” he began, his voice trembling. “Please forgive my intrusion, for I had no idea you were in slumber on this planet. Please, I myself was forced here against my will.”
“You cannot be forced otherwise, you fool.” This time it spoke with it’s mouth, still a bit loud, but at least Krystabald’s skull didn’t feel like shattering. The Great Old One landed softly on his hind paws. “What are you doing here, on my planet.”
“Great Old One, I had no idea it was your planet... ” but he was interrupted.
STOP KNEELING AND LOOK AT ME
Krystabald did so immediately. He needed to crane his neck outside of his comfort zone so he could look at the Great Old One in the eyes, and they were terrible eyes, devoid of color and sympathy. But could he do anything else but obey him?
He was unconsciously sweeping his tail across the soil in something that he would much later discover it was his new nervous tick, but was otherwise petrified in fear.
“That’s better, I hate when they don’t look me in the eyes when talking to me. It is impolite, you know?”
Krystabald kept his frozen stare.
“You could at least make some conversation, now that you’ve disturbed me. It is impolite to wake someone and then just stare at them.” The Great Old One set down its front paws now also, and then lay on the ground before Krystabald, finally releasing some pressure from his neck.
“I am going to ask you again, nicely, and forgive your rudeness. Why are you here? Why were you breaking my door.”
“The Quaradians...” Krystabald stammered. “They were attacking me, and I had to land here. But I lost one thruster and my fuel.”
“What are Quaradians?” Asked the Great Old One. And then Krystabald felt great pain starting from his entorhinal cortex and expanding through to the hippocampus as the Great Old One extracted the answer straight from the source.
Krystabald’s face twisted in agony as he brought his hand to the side of his head, clutching it as if trying to squeeze out the piercing pain. His cortical implants told him exactly which info was being accessed, and he wanted to cry out that he would have given the answer anyway, but the pain was simply too great. He just managed an almost inaudible croaking yelp. And then the pain subsided.
“Interesting,” spoke the eldritch horror “they seem a fierce and strong, but very stupid race. I wonder if they will follow you here. I hope they do. They sound… delicious.”
“I can bring them to you, Great Old One.”
“Can you please stop calling me that? My brother’s obsession with that title is quite enough. I had to endure him for eons! Great Old Ones this, Great Old Ones that. Waging war against the Elder Things.. Can you imagine the immense embarrassment this brought to our family?”
Krystabald looked at the being quizzically. “You speak of Cthulhu?”
“Yes… Wait, you thought I was my brother?” The being’s eyes reddened, and Krystabald readied himself for another wave of pain. But it didn’t come, the being’s eyes simply returned to their normal voidness.
“It is a common mistake, so common one, I have stopped eating people because of it a long time ago. Yes, of course, I am his brother. I guess you probably think the same as the rest, that he was a single being, but have you really thought about it? What being is single?”
“Well, I thought a God...”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” The earth shook as the being laughed. “My brother, a god? That is hilarious!” And then it continued laughing for some time. “He was a mere priest, you know.” It spoke between taking breaths from laughter. “You made me laugh, you.. whatever you are. It is a shame I have to eat you.”
Krystabald’s tail was now sweeping the ground furiously, as his mind tried to think of a way out of this situation.
“Oh being of great power, can’t I change your mind about that?”
“Hardly, especially if you speak to me like that”
“But, you said you wanted to taste Quaradians. I can bring them to you, as an offering. Just let me get back to the ship, and I’ll call them.”
“Hmmm..” the being went into thinking, the ground gently vibrating to his m’s. “I guess if you brought some new snacks, I could let you go.”
“Thank you, oh being of great power!” Krystabald bowed in honest gratefulness.
“But there are rules.” The being said, with annoyance. “First, stop calling me silly names. Call me Bob. And second, if you try to cross me in any way, or your Quaradians do not come, you will not just be eaten. Your suffering would be legendary, except no one will know about it, just you and me, and so there will not even be a legend about it.”
Bob’s voice was leveled and calm as it was delivering it’s threat, and Krystabald found this far more terrifying that the glowing red eyes accompanied by the earth shaking voice. He remembered with agony the pain from just minutes before, and that was just Bob extracting information out of him. No, he will not double-cross Bob. He will get him the Quaradians.
If they were still there. Or even alive. It was a terrible gamble, he had to put his life against the stupidity and tenacity of the Quaradians. Even if they were to land here, they would probably forget about the gravity and die from the pull.
He was screwed, he realised that. He brought his tail in his hands, and stroked it gently. He never really found time to really appreciate it. He might never find that time. But he had to try calling the Quaradians. Small chance is better than nothing.
“Is stroking your appendage part of calling the Quaradians here?” Bob asked, half out of annoyance, half out of sincere curiosity.
“Sorry bein… I mean, sorry Bob. I will get to it immediately.”
Saying that, he reluctantly turned his back to Bob, and started walking towards the Kreutz. He just needed to turn on his distress signal, and the Quaradians will be able to see him.
If they are still out there. He looked at the sky, but the clouds still refused to yield.
He not only sent a distress call, but also a message to the Quaradians, calling them filthy hedgehogs, the greatest insult one could call them. He hoped there won’t be any other Quaradians that will receive his massage. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life dodging them.
Once that was done, he only needed to wait.
Correction. They both needed to wait. He was content to sit this one out in his Kreutz. These were maybe his final hours, and what better way to spend them than in his favourite ship, scratching his back with his brand new tail he paid so much for? But he knew that wasn’t an option. He would have to go to Bob and entertain him somehow, while the idiots, if they still were in orbit, manage to find him. Even though he really made a beacon out of the Kreutz, it will sill take them time to find him.
It will take them time even if he set out a nuclear explosion at his position. What a terrible way to die, waiting for Quaradians to find you…
So he went back to Bob, who was sitting at the same place he left it, almost motionless if not for his gently flapping little bat wings.
“Well, where are they?” Bob enquired.
“They’ll be here, but it will take them some time. They’re not really good at finding stuff.”
“They seem smart enough to find and chase you.” Bob said, with its tentacles waving. Krystabald wondered if that was its way of smirking.
“They will be here, Bob.” Krystabald fought the urge to call him ‘great Bob’, he was sure that will incur it’s wrath. “They seemed very eager to get me.”
“Well, I am bored. And you do not really want to bore me, Krystabald.” Bob stood still for a moment, contemplating something, while Krystabald’s blood gently started freezing. “So, I have this game of non-euclidean Parcheesi that I really was dying to play with someone. Well, not really dying, as I cannot trully die, but you catch my drift. Isolation has its perks, but eons have passed since this board was opened. And I want you to play with me.”
“I would be honored to play with you, Bob,” Krystabald blatantly lied. For he really hated non-euclidean boards. It made his head hurt. And then the dice… he never learned how to roll them properly. It never quite fit in his palm. But what could he do? He cannot say no to Bob.
“No, you will not be honored, but you do not have a choice, really.” Bob apparently read his mind, and his tentacles waved a bit more. “To make it more compulsory for you, if the Quaradians do not arrive by the time this game finishes, I will devour your soul as an hors d'oeuvre.”
‘Well, that settles it then,’ Krystabald thought conceding to his faith ‘the last thing I’ll probably do in my life is playing a stupid and needlessly confusing game with Cthulhu’s brother. Way to go, Krystabald.’
By the time his thought finished, Bob had already materialised the board in front of them. ‘Oh, great, it goes into four dimensions.’ Krystabald sighed internally, while getting his MindExpander™ co-processor to alter his visual cortex to non-euclidian four dimensional space. Everything shifted around him, looking twisted and unnatural, except the board that looked kind of normal. He could also now see the void behind the illusionary wall. And as for Bob, he tried to not think about it really, for the horror that Bob was in this spatial mode was indescribable and would turn one insane if that one thought too much about it.
So Krystabald didn’t think too much about it. He chose his color (at least Bob had chosen from the possible color palette for the pieces), and grabbed the dice that, of course, cut into his palm a little, but ignoring that pain was easy when a far greater one is looming over your head.
And so the game began, one elder immortal being against a very mortal Krystabald. It was as boring as one would expect a Parcheesi game would be. And this was a four dimensional, non-euclidean, with twelve pieces each. It was tedious, long, complicated, and Krystabald contemplated suicide almost every minute. He could cut his veins with the dice, swallow it and let it rip apart his non expecting three dimensional organs. He could put his tail to good use and strangle himself. He could choke on his tail. He thought about running into a tree full force, until his head caved in. Bashing his head with a rock. Setting the Kreutz on self destruct and dying in a blaze of glory. He even thought of asking Bob to just get on with the soul devouring. It couldn’t really be worse than this torture.
But his will to survive was strong enough, and he played as if his life depended on it. Because it really did. And every time his piece would be sent to the start he felt death approaching him, and the same happened when he would send one of Bob’s pieces back, because it meant this game will go on.
Bob on the other hand, was having the time of his life. ‘Of course he is having fun,’ Krystabald thought, ‘this is merely a nanosecond of his life, he has time for this fucking abomination of a game.’ And Bob literally had all the time in the universe.
They were both down to four pieces when a rumble interrupted them. The Quaradians also hit Bob’s wall, and they were diving straight behind them, finally crashing in a blaze similar to the one Krystabald created earlier. Krystabald’s anxiety returned again to replace his suicidal boredom. The idiots were going to kill themselves.
He switched to normal vision, and, after the short recalibration headache, he noticed in relief that the doors of the Quaradian cruiser were opening. And then, he felt another wave of relief when he realised they were prepared for high gravity. It was the first time he appreciated smart Quaradians. And most probably the last.
“Ahh, dinner is here.” Bob exclaimed. “You were good on your word, Krystabald. You must excuse me, I must feast now, and then we will finish the game, for it is impolite to leave a game unfinished.”
Bob then rose from the ground in full glory, wings fully extended, claws also extended from his paws. His tentacles wiggled with terrible power, his eyes shone, projecting terrible horrors. If Krystabald was looking, he would see how the Quaradians were simply flown into his gaping mouth, his tentacles catching them and crushing their bones for easier consumption.
But Krystabald wasn’t watching. He was in his Kreutz, overjoyed that Bob was a natural source of Komancov radiation. ‘Talking about deus-ex machina.’ he thought to himself, and smiled. He kicked the engines to the max, realising that he would have to do with one thruster, but even burning up in the atmosphere of this hellhole was more appetizing than playin that dreadful game again.
He felt the G’s rising, as well as the growing instability of having one good thruster. Once he was out of the atmosphere, he would just kick in the theoretical drive, and everything will be fine. And he managed to do that, because he was Krystabald, hero of Triangulum, knight of Ursa Major, and bane of the Magellanic Clouds, and his piloting skills were the stuff of legend.
“Fuck!” He exclaimed again, as he realised that nothing happened, and that he had to maneuver the Kreutz S-9000 all by himself. He checked the screen to see the three red dots that were following him had dashes going out of them and moving towards him.
They were shooting at him, and the missiles hit the Kreutz at the same time that that realization hit him. The shields held for now, but three Quaradian raptors were far more than his race cruiser could take. He tried turning on the theoretical drive, but the damn spike-heads had theory-disruptors. He would have to evade them.
He took several more hits before finally managing to put the standard drive into override, and started evading the damn missiles. He was still faster, but his shields were now at 55%. A couple of hits more, and he will be fine dust.
He couldn’t even remember what he had done to the Quaradians. Sure, he hated them as much as anyone else in the galaxy, but he had made one of his life goals to evade their spike-ridden faces at first glance.
The Kreutz shook once again, and the shields where now at 44%. And there was now a plasma leakage. Great.
He had to look for a place to land. He called the screen with the scans of the current star system. There was one hospitable planet, largely oceanic, with what little land it had almost completely barren. But it was a bit on the heavier side, so even though it would be hard for him to walk, it would be doubly so for the Quaradians that were born in zero-G. In fact, they would be crushed on almost any surface if they stepped out without proper gear, but they weren’t known for their smarts, just for their ruthlessness.
Shields were now on 36.8%, and he simply had to land. He used the power from the life support systems to squeeze a bit more out of the Kreutz, and its quantum coil whined with power, its thrusters heaved at the extra heat. Krystabald couldn’t help but feel the excitement as the G’s inside the cabin increased for a moment until the inertial dampeners caught on.
The Quaradians were now lagging behind him, and he found it easier to avoid their projectiles. Their lasers hit him, of course, because he still couldn’t use the theoretical drive, but The Kreutz can take a lot of laser fire.
The planet before him was getting bigger and bigger, and he braced himself for entering the atmosphere. The screen warned him how the hull temperature increased rapidly, so he had to correct for a more gradual entry, all the while cursing himself and lamenting his shortsightedness about selling his AI.
Maybe he was a great space pilot, but he never really mastered landing. And now he was landing at speeds no sane being would even consider. But he had to do it like this if his plan was going to work.
And it worked. For all his mental incapacities, he still could master orbital mechanics better than the ones chasing him. And as a result, he witnessed one of the Raptors just burning off into the stratosphere, while another tried to raise it’s nose at a too steep angle, and after doing magnificent loops disappeared under the heavy clouds. The blip that represented the Raptor on Kristabald’s screen disappeared soon afterwards.
That left Krystabald with one more. And this one looked smart enough not only to follow him, but to continue shooting at the same time.
Krystabald thought fiercely. He dipped into the clouds, careful to not burn the hull in the process, and then dove below them. A mountain ridge was revealed to him, that ended steeply into the ocean on one side, but in a field on the other. So he steered the Kreutz while slowing down and carefully watching out for his enemy, who still seemed to be lost in the clouds.
He was getting about halfway to the ground when suddenly the Kreutz’s starboard side hit something. He couldn’t see what it was, for it was reflecting light in a frequency his mind couldn’t process, but his on-board computer could, if he cared to look at the right screen.
Or if he had an AI to warn him. He cursed terribly at the several generations of the Kamarnthians that were better at him in poker as he tried to decelerate his fall. The Kreutz crashed into several of the sparsely-grown trees in the valley, setting the weakly local vegetation on fire, before coming to a complete stop.
He checked the status. He was proud that there was minimal hull damage - a dozen trees proved no match for the Kreutz. But one of his thrusters was damaged, and he had no plasma left, meaning he was stranded here, at least until the Terentz Crystal was recharged. He immediately thought about calling a tow service, but then there was a Quaradian raptor still out there somewhere .
So he decided to sit this one out. He turned off everything in the Kreutz, making him undetectable to anything but a direct scan. And even if this land mass he was on wasn’t the largest he had seen, it would still take a while for the dumb Quaradians to find him. So, he waited for the hull too cool off, and for the grass fire to die down, before he exited the Kreutz.
The air outside proved surprisingly chilly, considering the recent fire and the fact that it was supposed to be 26°C. Other than the freshly fallen trees and the scorched grass, and the mountains to what seemed to be this planet’s East, he couldn’t really see anything.
“What the fuck did I hit?” He spoke to himself as he started walking towards the mountains.
He glimpsed at the sky, but he couldn’t see anything there expect the thick cloud cover. At least he couldn’t see any ship also, so that’s good.
He was still with his head pointed towards the sky, wiggling his tail freely while his nose and chin hit something. It was hard, and from the sound of it, it was wood. He covered his nose, which hurt as only a nose could, and when he finally removed the hand from his face he noticed in relief that there was no blood.
He looked carefully in front of him, but there was nothing there. Not anything he could see anyway. He reached for the portable scanner in his pocket.
And the scanner showed a wooden something in front. And beyond that, a complete void. The sparse grass he was seeing didn’t seem to register at all. The scanner also told him the same thing that the computer on the Kreutz was telling him if he bothered to look: the wood in front of him was normal, it just reflected light at a frequency unseen by his eyes.
He extended his free hand towards where the wooden wall should be, very carefully, until he touched it. Then he knocked on it. It responded as any plank would respond to knocking, with typical woody sound.
‘Maybe this is some kind of a door? Maybe someone inside could help me?' He thought as he intensified his knocking. First it was only knuckles, then the side of his fist, then he escalated to hitting the ‘door’ with his whole forearm. Nothing. No response.
But he could feel that the door was not very sturdy. Maybe he can break it. He stepped a bit away, careful not to make any lateral moves and miss his target, and he run and crashed his shoulder hard on the poor ‘door’. It gave a soft crack, but the scanner showed that except for the smallest hairline fracture, it was unaffected.
Krystabald of course saw this as an invitation to continue with his quest to break the ‘door’. It was at his tenth try that the ‘door’ finally cracked louder. He was glad, for his shoulder was starting to hurt a bit more than it should. He thought that one more time would be enough.
And that's when the earth started shaking, and the scanner exploded in his hand, and he quickly dropped it, and his hand hurt, but he wasn’t really feeling it.
Because the landscape before him opened, revealing the void that the scanner was insisting just before was hiding behind. He felt the deep cold that came from it, fraying at the edge of his cortex.
And then It emerged from the darkness, tentacles coming from its mouth, flying impossibly on tiny bat wings.
WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER. It came thundering inside Krystabald’s head.
He immediately genuflected, head turned towards the soil to avoid the creature’s terrible gaze.
“Oh Great Old One” he began, his voice trembling. “Please forgive my intrusion, for I had no idea you were in slumber on this planet. Please, I myself was forced here against my will.”
“You cannot be forced otherwise, you fool.” This time it spoke with it’s mouth, still a bit loud, but at least Krystabald’s skull didn’t feel like shattering. The Great Old One landed softly on his hind paws. “What are you doing here, on my planet.”
“Great Old One, I had no idea it was your planet... ” but he was interrupted.
STOP KNEELING AND LOOK AT ME
Krystabald did so immediately. He needed to crane his neck outside of his comfort zone so he could look at the Great Old One in the eyes, and they were terrible eyes, devoid of color and sympathy. But could he do anything else but obey him?
He was unconsciously sweeping his tail across the soil in something that he would much later discover it was his new nervous tick, but was otherwise petrified in fear.
“That’s better, I hate when they don’t look me in the eyes when talking to me. It is impolite, you know?”
Krystabald kept his frozen stare.
“You could at least make some conversation, now that you’ve disturbed me. It is impolite to wake someone and then just stare at them.” The Great Old One set down its front paws now also, and then lay on the ground before Krystabald, finally releasing some pressure from his neck.
“I am going to ask you again, nicely, and forgive your rudeness. Why are you here? Why were you breaking my door.”
“The Quaradians...” Krystabald stammered. “They were attacking me, and I had to land here. But I lost one thruster and my fuel.”
“What are Quaradians?” Asked the Great Old One. And then Krystabald felt great pain starting from his entorhinal cortex and expanding through to the hippocampus as the Great Old One extracted the answer straight from the source.
Krystabald’s face twisted in agony as he brought his hand to the side of his head, clutching it as if trying to squeeze out the piercing pain. His cortical implants told him exactly which info was being accessed, and he wanted to cry out that he would have given the answer anyway, but the pain was simply too great. He just managed an almost inaudible croaking yelp. And then the pain subsided.
“Interesting,” spoke the eldritch horror “they seem a fierce and strong, but very stupid race. I wonder if they will follow you here. I hope they do. They sound… delicious.”
“I can bring them to you, Great Old One.”
“Can you please stop calling me that? My brother’s obsession with that title is quite enough. I had to endure him for eons! Great Old Ones this, Great Old Ones that. Waging war against the Elder Things.. Can you imagine the immense embarrassment this brought to our family?”
Krystabald looked at the being quizzically. “You speak of Cthulhu?”
“Yes… Wait, you thought I was my brother?” The being’s eyes reddened, and Krystabald readied himself for another wave of pain. But it didn’t come, the being’s eyes simply returned to their normal voidness.
“It is a common mistake, so common one, I have stopped eating people because of it a long time ago. Yes, of course, I am his brother. I guess you probably think the same as the rest, that he was a single being, but have you really thought about it? What being is single?”
“Well, I thought a God...”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” The earth shook as the being laughed. “My brother, a god? That is hilarious!” And then it continued laughing for some time. “He was a mere priest, you know.” It spoke between taking breaths from laughter. “You made me laugh, you.. whatever you are. It is a shame I have to eat you.”
Krystabald’s tail was now sweeping the ground furiously, as his mind tried to think of a way out of this situation.
“Oh being of great power, can’t I change your mind about that?”
“Hardly, especially if you speak to me like that”
“But, you said you wanted to taste Quaradians. I can bring them to you, as an offering. Just let me get back to the ship, and I’ll call them.”
“Hmmm..” the being went into thinking, the ground gently vibrating to his m’s. “I guess if you brought some new snacks, I could let you go.”
“Thank you, oh being of great power!” Krystabald bowed in honest gratefulness.
“But there are rules.” The being said, with annoyance. “First, stop calling me silly names. Call me Bob. And second, if you try to cross me in any way, or your Quaradians do not come, you will not just be eaten. Your suffering would be legendary, except no one will know about it, just you and me, and so there will not even be a legend about it.”
Bob’s voice was leveled and calm as it was delivering it’s threat, and Krystabald found this far more terrifying that the glowing red eyes accompanied by the earth shaking voice. He remembered with agony the pain from just minutes before, and that was just Bob extracting information out of him. No, he will not double-cross Bob. He will get him the Quaradians.
If they were still there. Or even alive. It was a terrible gamble, he had to put his life against the stupidity and tenacity of the Quaradians. Even if they were to land here, they would probably forget about the gravity and die from the pull.
He was screwed, he realised that. He brought his tail in his hands, and stroked it gently. He never really found time to really appreciate it. He might never find that time. But he had to try calling the Quaradians. Small chance is better than nothing.
“Is stroking your appendage part of calling the Quaradians here?” Bob asked, half out of annoyance, half out of sincere curiosity.
“Sorry bein… I mean, sorry Bob. I will get to it immediately.”
Saying that, he reluctantly turned his back to Bob, and started walking towards the Kreutz. He just needed to turn on his distress signal, and the Quaradians will be able to see him.
If they are still out there. He looked at the sky, but the clouds still refused to yield.
He not only sent a distress call, but also a message to the Quaradians, calling them filthy hedgehogs, the greatest insult one could call them. He hoped there won’t be any other Quaradians that will receive his massage. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his life dodging them.
Once that was done, he only needed to wait.
Correction. They both needed to wait. He was content to sit this one out in his Kreutz. These were maybe his final hours, and what better way to spend them than in his favourite ship, scratching his back with his brand new tail he paid so much for? But he knew that wasn’t an option. He would have to go to Bob and entertain him somehow, while the idiots, if they still were in orbit, manage to find him. Even though he really made a beacon out of the Kreutz, it will sill take them time to find him.
It will take them time even if he set out a nuclear explosion at his position. What a terrible way to die, waiting for Quaradians to find you…
So he went back to Bob, who was sitting at the same place he left it, almost motionless if not for his gently flapping little bat wings.
“Well, where are they?” Bob enquired.
“They’ll be here, but it will take them some time. They’re not really good at finding stuff.”
“They seem smart enough to find and chase you.” Bob said, with its tentacles waving. Krystabald wondered if that was its way of smirking.
“They will be here, Bob.” Krystabald fought the urge to call him ‘great Bob’, he was sure that will incur it’s wrath. “They seemed very eager to get me.”
“Well, I am bored. And you do not really want to bore me, Krystabald.” Bob stood still for a moment, contemplating something, while Krystabald’s blood gently started freezing. “So, I have this game of non-euclidean Parcheesi that I really was dying to play with someone. Well, not really dying, as I cannot trully die, but you catch my drift. Isolation has its perks, but eons have passed since this board was opened. And I want you to play with me.”
“I would be honored to play with you, Bob,” Krystabald blatantly lied. For he really hated non-euclidean boards. It made his head hurt. And then the dice… he never learned how to roll them properly. It never quite fit in his palm. But what could he do? He cannot say no to Bob.
“No, you will not be honored, but you do not have a choice, really.” Bob apparently read his mind, and his tentacles waved a bit more. “To make it more compulsory for you, if the Quaradians do not arrive by the time this game finishes, I will devour your soul as an hors d'oeuvre.”
‘Well, that settles it then,’ Krystabald thought conceding to his faith ‘the last thing I’ll probably do in my life is playing a stupid and needlessly confusing game with Cthulhu’s brother. Way to go, Krystabald.’
By the time his thought finished, Bob had already materialised the board in front of them. ‘Oh, great, it goes into four dimensions.’ Krystabald sighed internally, while getting his MindExpander™ co-processor to alter his visual cortex to non-euclidian four dimensional space. Everything shifted around him, looking twisted and unnatural, except the board that looked kind of normal. He could also now see the void behind the illusionary wall. And as for Bob, he tried to not think about it really, for the horror that Bob was in this spatial mode was indescribable and would turn one insane if that one thought too much about it.
So Krystabald didn’t think too much about it. He chose his color (at least Bob had chosen from the possible color palette for the pieces), and grabbed the dice that, of course, cut into his palm a little, but ignoring that pain was easy when a far greater one is looming over your head.
And so the game began, one elder immortal being against a very mortal Krystabald. It was as boring as one would expect a Parcheesi game would be. And this was a four dimensional, non-euclidean, with twelve pieces each. It was tedious, long, complicated, and Krystabald contemplated suicide almost every minute. He could cut his veins with the dice, swallow it and let it rip apart his non expecting three dimensional organs. He could put his tail to good use and strangle himself. He could choke on his tail. He thought about running into a tree full force, until his head caved in. Bashing his head with a rock. Setting the Kreutz on self destruct and dying in a blaze of glory. He even thought of asking Bob to just get on with the soul devouring. It couldn’t really be worse than this torture.
But his will to survive was strong enough, and he played as if his life depended on it. Because it really did. And every time his piece would be sent to the start he felt death approaching him, and the same happened when he would send one of Bob’s pieces back, because it meant this game will go on.
Bob on the other hand, was having the time of his life. ‘Of course he is having fun,’ Krystabald thought, ‘this is merely a nanosecond of his life, he has time for this fucking abomination of a game.’ And Bob literally had all the time in the universe.
They were both down to four pieces when a rumble interrupted them. The Quaradians also hit Bob’s wall, and they were diving straight behind them, finally crashing in a blaze similar to the one Krystabald created earlier. Krystabald’s anxiety returned again to replace his suicidal boredom. The idiots were going to kill themselves.
He switched to normal vision, and, after the short recalibration headache, he noticed in relief that the doors of the Quaradian cruiser were opening. And then, he felt another wave of relief when he realised they were prepared for high gravity. It was the first time he appreciated smart Quaradians. And most probably the last.
“Ahh, dinner is here.” Bob exclaimed. “You were good on your word, Krystabald. You must excuse me, I must feast now, and then we will finish the game, for it is impolite to leave a game unfinished.”
Bob then rose from the ground in full glory, wings fully extended, claws also extended from his paws. His tentacles wiggled with terrible power, his eyes shone, projecting terrible horrors. If Krystabald was looking, he would see how the Quaradians were simply flown into his gaping mouth, his tentacles catching them and crushing their bones for easier consumption.
But Krystabald wasn’t watching. He was in his Kreutz, overjoyed that Bob was a natural source of Komancov radiation. ‘Talking about deus-ex machina.’ he thought to himself, and smiled. He kicked the engines to the max, realising that he would have to do with one thruster, but even burning up in the atmosphere of this hellhole was more appetizing than playin that dreadful game again.
He felt the G’s rising, as well as the growing instability of having one good thruster. Once he was out of the atmosphere, he would just kick in the theoretical drive, and everything will be fine. And he managed to do that, because he was Krystabald, hero of Triangulum, knight of Ursa Major, and bane of the Magellanic Clouds, and his piloting skills were the stuff of legend.
Comments
Post a Comment