Intergalactic Terrorist (New Dimension Book 1) (14 page)

Chapter 16

Baggus’Regious in all its glory!

    A large, fat looking planet, brown in appearance and surrounded by the swirls of dark grey clouds. Orbiting the planet was a large space station that hung like a drying pair of shorts just out of its atmosphere. Numerous ships flew to and from it and down and up from the planet.

    The interstellar port of the galaxy. Or as some would call it, the interstellar slag of the galaxy. Everyone came here. It was the centre of the universe's trade. Of course when we say universe, we do mean the universe in the dimension that Greebol came from and not that that Charlie existed in. Or the one the Dwarves existed in.

    Greebol decided it was time to explain to Charlie the logistics of the dimension he came from. He explained that there were ten different space faring species in his galaxy. They all formed the Galactic Unison, a joined collective government that ruled space, led by the Overseer, an elected politician.

    Each of the ten species recognised and followed the same set of laws and they shared the same currency system called, somewhat unflatteringly, Knobs.

    Baggus’Regious, also known as the United Planet, was the first planet colonised to cater for all the ten species. It was the first planet where all of the ten lived and worked together. A place of peace and of eternal happiness.

    “Really?” Charlie had asked, always the disbeliever.

    It was then that Greebol had explained that a place of peace and eternal happiness was the image that the Galactic Unison tried to portray of the planet. In fact it was a scum ridden cesspit. Only the lowest of the low lived there. Work was scarce, food was short and many people were homeless. The streets were ruled by underground criminal organisations and the majority of trading that went on was illegal.

    Then there was the state of the planet itself. Baggus’Regious
was dying. The atmosphere was thick with pollution and the few seas and rivers that flowed were rife with disease. Constant earthquakes shattered the grounds and uncontrollable weathers ravaged, which included flooding downpours and burning hot suns. And
suns
was the correct terminology as Baggus’Regious had three.

    “Sounds lovely,” Charlie mocked.

    “I am glad you think you will like it,” Greebol said, still not grasping Human sarcasm. “It is like my home away from home. Of course… I am not legally allowed to come here.”

    “What do you mean?” Charlie asked.

    “I am a bounty hunter. I am a wanted Gumthar!”

    As the electrical flew closer to the planet, it passed by the orbiting space station. A beep sounded in the main compartment and a crackling voice was heard that seemed to echo menacingly around the room, reminding Charlie of airport tannoys.

   
“Electrical… this is the Baggus’Regious orbiting guard. Please identify yourself.”

    Greebol flicked a switch and a 1950’s style microphone rose up from the centre of the room. Greebol stood behind it and tapped it three times.

    “What’s this?” Charlie teased, “karaoke?”

    “Sometimes,” came the response. “You should see me kick out a belting tune. I could have been a tenor you know.”

    Greebol cleared his throat. The next time he spoke it was into the microphone and his voice was projected outwards in a loud booming tone.

    “This is the electrical trading vessel… erm… King George,” he said and he winked to Charlie who shook his head. “I am Captain Kentara Kerglas.”

   
“Please state your purpose at
Baggus’Regious,”
said the voice.

    “Trade,” said Greebol, “and perhaps a night or two at Lady Lungweena’s
massage
parlour… if you know what I mean!” He winked again. This time to no one in particular.

    “I understand… please provide your trading code.”

    Greebol stuck his hand down the front of his tight shorts and began to rummage around inside. He pulled out a packet of crisps, shook his head and returned them. He pulled out a copy of some disturbing magazine with a naked Gumthar on the front. He returned it. Finally he pulled out a scrap of paper with a number scrawled on it.

    “9, 6, 7, 81, A, T, 76, 5, 5, floppy pillow,” he read aloud and held his breath. It was an old code. He hoped it would work.

   
“Floppy pillow accepted. Proceed down to the planet and prepare for visual identity scanning. Remember weapons are not allowed on Baggus’Regious
.
Have a nice day. Oh and say hello to Lady Lungweena for me.”

     “I will do. Captain Kerglas out.”

    The microphone retracted and Greebol stepped back in front of the steering square. He steered the electrical slowly and carefully, passing the looming space station and towards the planet.

    Charlie stared at it in disbelief through the porthole. When he had first seen the electrical he had been in awe at the size of the ship. The station however was about one hundred times the size of the tin can they floated in. Rows upon rows of windows looked back at him. Thousands of twinkling lights flashing. Millions even. And in those windows he could see movement. Alien life! He could only make out their silhouettes against the bright lights inside but still it was enough to see that these were not Human.

    And then there was the planet itself! As the electrical began to descend through the dark clouds, the landscape below slowly became visible. Charlie could see the tops of buildings. He could see the tiny lights below. Futuristic space vehicles moving through the streets looked like tiny ants. Albeit tiny ants with lights on their backs and large burning engines up their jacksies.

    What caught Charlie’s attention the most was the fact that the city below, which Greebol called the city of Baggus, seemed to go on forever. It stretched all the way from the large river in the west, far beyond the horizon in the east.

    Closer still, Charlie noticed that the buildings were not tall and proud like many of the ‘space age’ buildings back on Earth. These were made of brick or wood (it should be noted that they are made from very old brick and wood) and many were almost crumbling down. The buildings were close together. Too close. If someone leaned out of their bedroom window they would end up with their head poking through the window of the house next door. Probably resulting in a slap, especially if that window happened to be the bathroom.

    Even closer, Charlie could now smell the rich scent that the city had to offer and it made him gag. To say that the busy city of Baggus smelt bad was an understatement. It wasn’t that the city had no sewage system, it was that for some unknown and random reason, the sewage system travelled through large pipes
above
the houses. Large, holey pipes it should be added. If you thought that birds droppings falling from the sky was annoying, you should try living in the city of Baggus.

    “My God,” Charlie gasped, pinching his nose so hard that not even a microscopic being could enter, “that smell is so pungent.”

    “Glorious is it not?” Greebol replied, taking in large breaths through his strange nostril.

    “Not really the word I was looking for,” Charlie admitted, “In fact of all the words I could be thinking of
glorious
would be at the bottom of the pile.”

    Charlie felt a disturbing twinge in his groin area and was forced to cross his legs.

    “Please tell me there are toilets in this city?” he asked.

    “Are you sure you do not want one of my tablets?”

    “Greebol my penis is made for two things. One of those things it seems won’t be happening to it for quite some time so please at least give me the luxury of peeing!”

    “Fair enough. But there may be some wait. We have to go through visual identity yet.”

    The electrical landed with such a bump that Charlie almost released his stored liquids there and then.

    Greebol picked up the Image-Rendering Mask and inserted it over his head. As Charlie looked at him confused, head cocked like a dog hearing a high pitch, Greebol pressed a number of buttons and the mask began to distort, change shape and colour. Within minutes the grey skinned, squinted eyed, wide mouthed face that Charlie had now come to see even when he closed his eyes, was replaced by a shiny, smooth, blue face with remarkably very few features. The same species as Professor Amirous

    “Why have you changed to look like a Lampon?” Charlie asked.

    “The same reason I disguised myself as a Human on Earth. To hide my true identity. As I said I am a wanted man here. And it is Lampan not Lampon. They are very protective over the pronunciation of their races name. A hundred year war ensued because of it. Terrible times.”

    “Then I am going to cause a lot of wars,” Charlie grumbled, “for I am a stranger here. I’m going to get everything wrong.”

    “Do not worry my friend. I shall guide you.”

    “That does not exactly instil me with confidence.”

    Greebol squeezed his wobbly body into a Lampan shaped suit. It was like watching someone try to squeeze a pear into a balloon. A slightly sloppy pear at that.

    “All ready to go!” Greebol smiled. Even with the face of a blue Lampan that smile still showed through. It made Charlie shudder.

    “What about me?” he asked shyly. “Won’t I need some sort of disguise?”

    “Why? You’re not a wanted criminal are you?”

    Charlie grinned. “Well… not out here. On Earth however I am considered a very dangerous man.”

    “For some reason I highly doubt that,” Greebol frowned, looking up and down at the Human’s scruffy hair and shabby, dirty, creased clothes, not noticing the joke.

    Charlie decided he should probably refrain from telling jokes in the future. It seemed that, even though the jokes that Greebol made were not too dissimilar, Charlie’s sense of humour was lost out here in space. He always considered himself to be a funny man. People laughed at him all of the time.

    “I was meaning that I am a Human,” Charlie continued, “I don’t belong here. Surely someone is going to notice that.”

    “On Baggus’Regious? You would be surprised.” Greebol patted Charlie on the back with a slightly plastic blue hand. “You will be fine. Trust me.”

    Greebol was the least trustworthy person that Charlie had ever met. But he didn’t have the heart to say it out loud.

    Greebol opened the main doors and the steps descended. He took a deep breath, taking in the vulgar air, and stepped out of the electrical. Charlie followed, not quite as excited to be there, taking care to step as carefully as possible down the steps.

The landing bay was quiet. Hundreds of ships of various sizes, shapes, materials and colours. There were ships shaped like balls, turtles, saxophones and cucumbers. Some were blue, some green, many silver and grey. There was even one that was yellow with red polka dots. That was the one shaped like the cucumber.

    Yet throughout this large landing bay, not a soul moved. Charlie expected more. He expected gaggles of aliens, all speaking wild and unnecessarily confusing languages. He expected to have to push his way through the crowd, reeling at the feel of the alien’s skin against his, jumping occasionally as a strange and unwanted tentacle brushed up against him in areas he didn’t want to be brushed up against. He expected something. Yet there was nothing.

    Charlie was a little disappointed.

    “This way,” Greebol ushered, guiding Charlie through the large bay amongst the spaceships.

    A particularly shiny ship with a hull that you just wanted to stroke and say “Ohhh”, beckoned Charlie towards it. He reached out a hand, desperate to stroke it and say “Ohhh”, but it was slapped away by Greebol quickly.

    “You do not want to be touching that,” he said quickly, “See the box at the top of the ship with the red flashing light?”

    Charlie nodded.

    “That is a system five security generator. Very expensive. Very powerful. If you had touched that ship you would have been fried. It would take hours to pull your chargrilled hand from the hull. Kentucky Fried Charlie!”

    Charlie shivered, scared now to touch anything in case it sent him up in flames. Once again he was moments away from death. And once again his bladder stretched. He was desperate. He hoped the toilets weren’t too far away.

    They arrived at a small doorway, where a large figure stood. Charlie backed away slightly. He knew the face on that figure. It was the pig-like alien from the electrical! Charlie panicked. He looked around in wild terror for some means of escape. But he didn’t want to hide behind any of these spaceships for fear of being fried by crazy murdering alarm systems!

    So instead he hid behind Greebol, who seemed remarkably calm.

    “Please ignore my friend,” the Gumthar said chirpily, “it is his first time on Baggus.”

    The pig-like alien grunted.

    “Step Forward For Identification Scan,” he growled.

    Charlie peered out from under Greebol’s armpit (which actually smelt nicer than the air of the city) and stared at the figure. The voice was different. Not much… but slightly. This pig-like alien had a gravelly voice and there was a strange croak like a frog twinge to his speech.