Starbase 66: A Deeper Shade of Night

Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by TheLoneRedshirt, May 26, 2016.

  1. CeJay

    CeJay Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

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    Wouldn't be a homage to the master of horror without a clown making an appearance. Because everyone knows a clown will automatically increase the creep factor of ever story. No exception here. Also nice shout out to Lovecraft, the original master of horror.

    And now the stakes are even higher. It was bad enough when an innocent kinder garden teacher went missing, but an actual kid? That's brutal. Will it take a suicide mission to get him back? I really hope not.
     
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  2. Vorpal_Blade

    Vorpal_Blade Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Joined:
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    Shades of Stephen King. Could that clown be Pennywise? At any rate, the clown addition is very creepy. I like the reference to Lovecraft also.
     
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  3. TheLoneRedshirt

    TheLoneRedshirt Commodore Commodore

    Joined:
    May 22, 2007
    Location:
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    Chapter 11 – Alone and Not Alone

    Stardate 54837.5 (4 November 2377)
    Starbase 66


    “Confidence is the feeling you have just before you fully understand the situation.” –
    Unknown

    Trevor Harney’s pronouncement hung in the air for a moment before Stillman spoke up, bridling with outrage.

    “Like hell she is!” The SCIS agent stepped past Edwards to confront Commander Harney. Edwards grabbed his arm, gently but firmly pulling him back.

    “Easy, Stillman. Let’s hear him out.”

    Frustrated and angry, Stillman nevertheless stepped back, glaring at the mysterious Aboriginal Australian.

    “Why is it I can go into Section Lambda and not Stillman?” asked Edwards, trying to keep a quaver out of her voice.

    The dark, timeless eyes of Trevor Harney regarded her solemnly. “You are Ju’dumdura’dun. He is not.” The words flowed in a sing-song cadence.

    The translator in their communicators did not reveal the meaning of the strange word. Instead, they ‘heard’ the meaning in their heads. “Unique.”

    Tess frowned. “Unique . . . in what way?”

    “He means,” interrupted Stillman, “You are the only Tess Edwards that exists in all of the multi-verse.”

    “Todd Stillman is correct,” said Harney as Edwards turned to face Stillman with a look of surprise on her face. “Of the many trillions of sentient beings that inhabit this realm, nearly all have identical copies in most all the other universes. There is a tiny number in each reality who exist only there and nowhere else. You are one of those extremely rare beings . . . you are Ju’dumdura’dun.

    Tess tried to process this and found the concept was beyond her ability to contemplate. Nor did the idea fill her with a sense of either wonder or dread. It was just there.

    “Sorry to disappointment, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything or how it helps us get the child back safely.”

    The ancient Australian nodded. “You recall when you first arrived how the sign changed to read 'Starbase 666,' a significant number to those who are of the Christian faith and tradition. The number of 'The Beast.'"

    "So you did see it," interjected Edwards, feeling both annoyed and relieved.

    "Oh yes, it has played these games before. Remember, I said, 'It spoke to you.'"

    "Yes, but you gave no explanation as to why you said that."

    "You were not ready to hear, Tess Edwards. Now, though . . ." Harney paused, "Time is short, so I will tell you what you must know. You caught its attention when you came on the station. That is why it 'spoke' to you. You are a threat to it in a way that Stillman nor anyone else living on the station cannot be." He glanced at the SCIS agent.

    "No offense, Todd Stillman."

    Stillman shrugged. The anger was gone but he was still wary.

    "But what is this thing? Is it a living creature? Is it something like the Q?" Asked Edwards.

    "It has many names. It introduced itself to you as i'ilchthu'ud and I suppose that is as good as any name to call it. And no, it is not like the Q. The Q Continuum, though powerful, are limited to this realm only.”

    “Is my . . . ‘uniqueness’ . . . an advantage going up against this . . . thing?”

    "There are significant ramifications to your uniqueness, Tess Edwards, but we do not have the time to delve into those at present. The important thing you must know is that it allows you a chance to survive the Ch’dadum’jur.

    “A chance?” queried Stillman. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”

    “A chance is better than what that kid has if I don’t try,” shot back Edwards. She turned to Harney.

    “Tell me what I must do.”

    He nodded. “I will tell you as we go. Now.”

    Without warning, Tess, Stillman, and Harney stood in a dank, dimly lit corridor, just outside a turbo-lift. There was no sensation – one second they were in the Security Office, the next they were not.

    “You sure know how to get around,” murmured Stillman as he looked around at their gloomy surroundings. “We’re on Deck 470, I presume?”

    Harney nodded. “Yes. And this is as far as you come, Agent Stillman. To go further would risk your sanity and your life. I cannot stress that enough.”

    Apparently, Stillman felt the creepy vibe of the level already. “I hear you. But Edwards will be safe?”

    “She can survive what you cannot.”

    Tess thought this less than reassuring. “Let’s do this. Lead on, Commander Harney.”

    “What am I supposed to do?” asked Stillman.

    “Wait,” replied Harney. “When she returns with the child she will need your help then.”

    Stillman nodded, his face grim. “Don’t do anything stupid, Edwards,” he said.

    She laughed nervously. “Do you think this is smart?”

    This elicited a crooked grin from Todd. “Well, be careful then. Don’t talk to strangers.”

    “Yeah. Right.” She returned a weak smile before following after Harney, leaving Todd Stillman alone in the dreary corridor. If it weren’t for her own dire prospects, she would have felt sorry for him.

    The corridor seemed noticeably colder than her previous visit accompanying Captain Gilead. She rubbed her arms briskly as a shiver ran through her body. The humidity was also higher, creating a dense fog. The scant lighting showed weakly through the mist, orbs of sour yellow that offered no cheer or warmth.

    In short order they approached the barricades that guarded the imposing blast doors. Beyond, lay Section Lambda. Tess was not surprised that the warning strobe and audio did not sound. Apparently Trevor Harney could easily disable the security measures.

    The Australian Aborigine turned to face Edwards. She was startled to see that he no longer wore the Starfleet uniform. Now, his face and body were painted with intricate patterns of white and red. His hair was longer, coarse and wild. He wore a breech-cloth and his feet were bare. Harney looked like he had stepped out of a museum display.

    “I can protect you only so far, Tess Edwards. While we are still in this realm, I will accompany you. In there,” he gestured to the blast doors, “you will come to a crossing to another universe. From there, you will go alone as I have no authority beyond the boundary.”

    She swallowed and removed the small phaser from her sleeve. Harney shook his head.

    “Put the phaser away. It will do you no good.”

    “Commander Harney . . . I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

    “Find the child. Trust yourself. You will know what to do at the right moment.”

    She shook her head and exhaled shakily. “I’m ready.”

    Harney nodded and closed his eyes. He began to chant in a language unfamiliar to her ears. It was strangely mesmerizing and she felt a sense of calm wash over her.

    The chanting went on for several minutes, then Harney opened his eyes and gestured toward the blast doors. Yellow lights flashed and the heavy doors trundled open in a muted mechanical baritone.

    The doors opened. Beyond was darkness.

    “Take my hand and close your eyes,” he directed. “It will ease the transition. You will feel strange.”

    She did as he said. His hand was hot to the touch and very dry. They walked together toward the open doorway, her eyes tightly shut as he led her like a small child.

    There was a moment of vertigo that nearly caused her to stumble and a wave of nausea passed over her then eased. A ringing in her ears nearly drowned out his words of encouragement. There was a bad smell present . . . a dry, dusty smell as if something had burned . . . like a body cremated.

    Tess frowned as the deck beneath her feet changed to an undulating surface. Was that grass she was walking on?

    “Open your eyes.”

    Lt. Edwards complied, and blinked in surprise.

    “Are we on the holo-deck?” she asked, staring around in confusion.

    They stood on a hillside overlooking the same park from which young Malan Wright had disappeared.

    Yet, it was not the same. The bright, green grass from the holo-deck birthday party was dead and brown. Puffs of powdery gray dust appeared each time they took a step. The large tree near the tent was dead and devoid of leaves. Even the tent with its decorations looked as if it had been left to rot for years – the canvas fabric ripped and faded.

    Overhead, clouds raced across a sky the color of slate at incredible speed. It appeared that a storm was imminent. Wind whipped across the dead grass and weeds, causing Edwards' hair to billow around her face.

    “No, Tess. We are not on the holo-deck. We are in the between-space between universes.”

    “Section Lambda?”

    “Section Lambda is a doorway to many paths between realms. We are on one of those paths. What you seek lies beyond that stream.”

    Harney pointed toward a bridge much like the one that Malan Wright was seen crossing before he disappeared. But this bridge was not a freshly-painted white. It listed at an angle. Boards were missing, leaving gaps that revealed not a babbling brook but a raging torrent of water. Beyond the rushing stream lay a forest, dark and foreboding.

    Tess swallowed and began to walk toward the bridge. After a few steps, she realized that Harney was not accompanying her. She turned, a questioning expression on her face.

    “I can go no further, Tess Edwards. Beyond the bridge lies another realm. I have no authority there.”

    She nodded, unable to speak. With her heart pounding, she approached the bridge and the roaring rapids.

    Just before reaching the bridge, she turned again. “Will you be . . . ?” she began.

    But Trevor Harney was gone.

    Tess closed her eyes, trying to recapture that sense of peace she experienced when Harney had chanted in his alluring way. It helped. Though she still felt fear, there was now open a newly discovered tap of strength and resolve.

    Lt. Edwards turned and began to cross the bridge.

    To be continued . . .
     
    Last edited: Jul 15, 2016
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  4. Count Zero

    Count Zero No nation but procrastination Moderator

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    What a cliffhanger!
     
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  5. Bry_Sinclair

    Bry_Sinclair Vice Admiral Admiral

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    You tease us, sir! More! Before the natives become restless :bolian:
     
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  6. CeJay

    CeJay Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

    Joined:
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    And down the rabbit hole we go. I guess Tess won't be in Kansas anymore. Okay, sorry about mixing my metaphors/references here, but this is exciting stuff. Can't wait to see what happens next.
     
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  7. Vorpal_Blade

    Vorpal_Blade Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

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    Nebraska
    I am looking forward to more!
     
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  8. TheLoneRedshirt

    TheLoneRedshirt Commodore Commodore

    Joined:
    May 22, 2007
    Location:
    Here and now.
    Chapter 12 – Beyond the Boundary

    Stardate 54837.6 (4 November 2377)

    Location – Unknown


    Coulrophobia.
    No need to look it up. It’s what you’re feeling right now. The unreasonable fear of clowns.
    Maybe it’s not so unreasonable.

    -Anthony Breznican

    Tess Edwards approached the bridge that crossed the divide separating two universes. The structure creaked ominously as she put her weight on it and it bounced a bit before settling.

    Tess’ heart was hammering as she cautiously made her way across. Below her, the raging torrent roared and a mist rose creating droplets that settled on her face. Glancing down she noticed something that did not belong. Amidst the rocks was a cylindrical metallic object lying against a rock. She quickly realized it was the remains of a badly damaged sensor drone, probably one sent into Sector Lambda by Captain Gilead. Whether its guidance system failed or it suffered a power loss, Tess could not tell . . . not that it mattered.

    A board gave way, tumbling into the rapidly moving water. She stumbled slightly but regained her balance as she watched the piece of wood hit the river’s surface, disappear, then reappear as it moved away quickly in the current. Gingerly, she stepped across the gap and quickly covered the remaining distance until she was on solid ground once more . . .

    . . . in a different universe.

    She looked back behind her from whence she came. The dead oak tree still loomed over the tattered tent which flapped in the strong breeze. Beyond the hill she supposed (hoped) were the doors that would lead back out of Section Lambda.

    There was no sign of Trevor Harney.

    Okay, Tess . . . time to move, find the kid, and get the hell out of here. She turned to face the densely wooded forest in this new realm, idly wondering if somewhere beyond lay another version of Section Lambda and Starbase 66.

    The wind picked up and she shivered. Wherever she was, it was colder here than on the other side of river in her own universe. Despite Trevor Harney’s admonition, she withdrew the small phaser from her sleeve and set it on heavy stun as she walked toward the woods. The small weapon gave her a slight sense of comfort.

    There appeared to be a faint trail that led into the trees. As she entered the forest, the scant light from the gray sky faded and she was engulfed in a murky gloom. Her eyes adjusted enough for her to see and she began to walk, not really certain of where she was going but any path was better than none.

    It took her perhaps five minutes of walking before she came to the first indication she was on the right path. Or, the wrong path, depending on one’s perspective and threshold of fear.

    A bright red balloon bobbed languidly on a string in the middle of the path, unaffected by the stiff wind that moaned through the tree limbs. In what appeared to be white grease paint, the words “last chance to go back,” were written on the balloon.

    “Not today,” she muttered, and walked past the balloon, giving it a wide berth.

    The meager light began to fade. Perhaps the sun that illuminated this place was setting or perhaps the darkness emanated from something else. She activated the light on her phaser and thus was able to follow the path.

    The trail itself was becoming more difficult to follow, partly due to the encroaching darkness, and partly because the vegetation was more dense. Twice, she felt branches clutch at her uniform like skeletal fingers. She twisted free with a snarl and continued to move ahead.

    She was scared, more scared than she had ever been in her life. More so than when she served on the Coronado when Cardassian torpedos pounded their shields and the red alert klaxon wailed incessantly.

    But the fear motivated her. She knew if this place brought her such terror, a child would be overwhelmed.

    It was the little boy that kept her moving. She had decided she would not return without him.

    The trail began a sudden, sharp ascent. Tess found herself struggling to move uphill as tree roots tripped her up and sharp vines slashed her face and arms, opening the fabric of her uniform sleeves. The blood that streamed down her cheeks drew small gnat-like creatures that buzzed about and attacked her nose and eyes.

    She swatted at the insects as she sought purchase for hands and feet to climb. The roots had a slimy texture, proving to be more a hindrance than a help as she moved upward.

    Progressing fifty meters took nearly the same number of minutes. Finally, she reached a level place and rested for a moment, gasping from exertion and perspiring freely despite the chill.

    Tess looked up and saw the second most macabre sight of the day.

    The body of Juud Mo was seated on a tree stump, much as it had been situated in her apartment earlier. This time however, the head was placed upside down on the neck stump. Tied to his right hand was another red balloon. The message on it said, “Hurry, Tess – Malan won’t last much longer. Love, Red Jack.”

    To her surprise, the sight of the dead Orion and the ominous message did not bring on a panic response. She began to chuckle. Oddly enough, she found this latest death pose to be funny in a sophomoric way. Part of her mind wondered if this was a different Juud Mo or the one who had paid a call to her quarters.

    “Is that the best you can do?” she shouted above the wind. “Corpses and balloons have lost their charm, Red Jack, or whoever the frak you are.”

    She turned in a circle, anger welling up in her heart. “Show yourself, you murderous son of a bitch!” she shrieked.

    Thunder rumbled in the distance and a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the path beyond the corpse of Juud Mo. In that instance, Tess could see a dark silhouetted figure standing in the trail. But that glimpse was enough for her to know.

    It was the clown.

    She raised her phaser in the direction of the apparition. “SHOW YOURSELF!” she screamed.

    Another flash of lightning crossed the night sky. The clown-creature was gone.

    Tess moved quickly in the direction she had spotted the clown. Fear had given way to anger. A roiling rage gave her a second wind, the fatigue and ache of tired muscles forgotten.

    She sprinted through the thick vegetation, her breath coming in harsh grunts of exertion as some inner compass guided her. As she raced along the path, her foot caught on an exposed root, causing her to land awkwardly and painfully as she slid amongst moldering leaves. Her phaser tumbled away, disappearing into the underbrush.

    Momentarily stunned, she staggered to her feet and winced at a sharp pain in her left knee. Looking down, she could see nothing in the darkness but her hand came back sticky and wet with blood.

    Great. She fumed to herself. Running like a damn fool and you lose your weapon and slice open your knee. Good going, Tess.

    She ripped off one of the already tattered sleeves of her uniform and wrapped it tightly around her injured knee. It helped but she could tell the joint was already stiffening. No more running for now.

    Tess tried to locate the phaser but it was an exercise in futility. The adrenaline rush had passed and the sense of foreboding was beginning to return. Shaking her head angrily at her foolishness, she began to move along the trail when a sudden, soft sound brought her up abruptly.

    She listened, trying to concentrate her hearing against the constant wind and the rustle of tree branches and dead leaves. For a moment, she thought she imagined it, then once more, faintly, the sound returned.

    Someone was crying.

    Lt. Edwards turned her head from one side to another, trying to get a fix on the faint sound. The wind tended to carry it away but it was soon apparent that the keening was ahead of her and close, quite close.

    "Malan?" She called, her voice nearly drowned out by the incessant wind. "Malan Wright! Can you hear me?"

    She hobbled in the direction she last heard the crying and continued to call out for the boy. "Malan, please! . . . answer me if you can hear me."

    But she received no answer.

    Gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg, Edwards forced herself up another rise . . .

    . . . And came to a halt when she came to a clearing in the woods.

    The clearing was not as surprising as the macabre scene before her. A sick parody of a birthday party appeared to be underway in the center of the open area. A young boy that Tess knew to be Malan Wright from the holo-pics provided by his parents sat in the place of honor, though she thought it more a place of horror. The child was surrounded by his "guests" - a gruesome collection of corpses seated around the table. Once more, the remains of the late Juud Mo made an appearance, or at least his head was present - placed on the table with a party hat situated at a jaunty angle. A shiny black beetle of some sort scuttled from an empty eye socket, burying itself in the cake that sat before the terrified boy.

    But Malan Wright was not the one who caught Lt. Edwards' attention. No, that honor went to the tall clown that loomed over the child. It stood at least seven feet tall in a costume of shimmering white with narrow blue stripes. Huge orange buttons festooned the front of the costume and white gloves covered his hands.

    Traditional white and blue makeup covered the long face of the clown, complete with red nose and a ring of bright orange hair about a too-large head. But there, the familiar aspects of a circus icon ended. The smile was too wide with lips curled back to reveal a menacing set of needle sharp teeth tinged a blood red. And the eyes . . .

    For a moment, Tess was mesmerized as her eyes met that of ilichthu'ud.

    Red Jack.

    Ripper.

    Clown.

    It.

    "Welcome Tess," the clown crooned, the voice caressing her ears and her mind, "Do join us. We were just about to begin the party." Silvery orbs stared into and through her, beckoning her into a bright darkness.

    Unbidden, her legs numbly moved, bringing her to the one vacant chair at the table. She sat down stiffly, like a marionette. Across from her, Malan Wright sat frozen in place, his eyes wide and full of terror.

    The corpse next to Tess turned its head in her direction, its long unused bones creaking audibly. Strips of desiccated flesh hung in tatters from its ruined face.

    "Now, now," chided the clown, "It's not polite to stare." Red Jack made a gesture and the corpse turned its head the other way.

    And turned, and turned, and turned until the sound of splintering bone and sinew began to break through Edwards' fugue. She blinked but remained still lest the clown notice.

    Red Jack clapped his hands together in a show of anticipation. "Now, where were we? Ah, yes! Time to celebrate young Malan's birthday." The last rolled off his tongue, ending in a guttural growl.

    "And what party is complete without a cake?" He asked, indicating the pulsing white confection centered next to Juud Mo's head. The clown snapped his fingers and candles appeared, blazing brightly. So bright and hot, in fact, that the late Orion's cranium also ignited eliciting the sickening odor of burning flesh.

    "Oh dear, oh dear," tsked the clown. "What shall we do for refreshment now?" He raised his hand and tapped his cheek in thought. Tess noticed that talons now extended through the ends of the white cotton gloves. The talons were very long and very sharp.

    The clown's smile grew even wider, impossibly wide. "I know!" he effused, "what better treat than to treat ourselves to the birthday boy!"

    Silver eyes glowing with an infernal heat, the clown moved behind Malan and placed his massive hands on the boy's frail shoulders, flexing his terrible claws.

    "Don't worry, Tess. I'll share . . ." Red Jack began to laugh. It was a thick, horrible sound that quickly devolved into a guttural snarl of hunger and anticipation.

    Edwards felt helpless, frozen in place but all too aware of what was about to happen. As the horror of the moment threatened to overwhelm her, the chant she had first heard from Trevor Harney suddenly came to mind.

    She began to hum softly.

    To be continued . . .
     
    Last edited: Aug 9, 2016
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  9. CeJay

    CeJay Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

    Joined:
    Feb 5, 2006
    So here I am, thinking it would be practically impossible to increase the creep-factor inherent to this story anymore ... wrong.

    This is now turning into Alice in an even more demented and likely deadly Wonderland, complete with a Mad Hatter/Clown tea/birthday party. This is the stuff of nightmares, right here.
     
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  10. Vorpal_Blade

    Vorpal_Blade Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Joined:
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    Location:
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    The clown is downright evil. It makes me remember seeing the clowns in my childhood and how they scared me then.
     
  11. Vorpal_Blade

    Vorpal_Blade Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Joined:
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    What happened? Don't leave us hanging. :-) I'm really looking forward to the next chapter.
     
  12. TheLoneRedshirt

    TheLoneRedshirt Commodore Commodore

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    May 22, 2007
    Location:
    Here and now.
    Sorry for the long delay. It's been a hectic summer with a couple of family emergencies. All is well now. I'm nearly ready to post the next chapter - just needs some polishing but should be up this week sometime.
     
  13. TheLoneRedshirt

    TheLoneRedshirt Commodore Commodore

    Joined:
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    Location:
    Here and now.
    Chapter 13 – Miles to Go

    Stardate 54837.8 (4 November 2377)

    Location – Unknown


    “The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.”
    - Robert Frost

    The clown/thing loomed over Malan Wright. Claws protruded from the white gloves, pressing into the boys flesh, though not quite to the point of puncturing skin and bone. Malan wore a vacant expression but a moan escaped his lips as the pressure of the clown’s talons increased.

    Tess continued to hum, the melody flowing from her mind to her lips. It seemed a totally useless thing to do, a futile gesture against a monstrous foe. Nevertheless, the soft tune calmed her as Trevor Harney’s chant had done earlier. The words of Trevor Harney echoed in her mind: “You are one of those extremely rare beings . . . you are Ju’dumdura’dun.

    Of course, she had no idea what that meant. Still, it felt right.

    The clown paused, his wide, shark-like mouth filled with serrated teeth threatening to engulf the boy. Its head tilted in a manner not unlike that of a dog hearing a whistle. The monster closed its maw, regarding Tess with bemusement, then spoke.

    “That will do you no good, you know,” the clown jeered. Yet Edwards sensed that somehow her humming was doing something. She continued.

    The clown stood upright, momentarily distracted from the small Human morsel before it.

    “You should stop that. Now.”
    There was now a definite edge of threat to the clown’s voice. The playful tone was gone and the rumbling growl had returned. Its eye-shine blazed a dazzling silver-red.

    Unbidden, the strange words of Trevor Harney’s chant began to flow from Tess’ lips. She still had no idea as to their meaning but the effect on the clown was sudden and electric.

    The monster actually staggered back a step, perhaps in surprise, perhaps in pain. Tess suspected both. The thing roared. The noise was deafening; nearby trees actually swayed as the clown’s voice thundered. Even the ground shook as a tremor rocked the clearing, toppling the chairs and spilling the dead bodies to the rocky soil.

    “CEASE YOUR NOISE, PATHETIC INSECT! I’LL RIP YOU APART, TEAR OUT YOUR STEAMING GUTS, AND RIP OFF YOUR SKULL TO FEAST ON YOUR TINY BRAIN!”

    Tess should have been paralyzed in abject terror. Part of her understood that she was very, very close to a gruesome death. Yet, the ancient and mystical words not only shielded her mind from fear, it was apparent that the clown-thing was the one who was afraid.

    The strange words tumbled over her tongue and teeth, past her lips, possessing a power of their own. Though soft in volume, the chant became a powerful physical force. Faster and faster, she chanted. Spittle flew from her mouth and her own eyes began to glow.

    The monster backed away from Malan and began to writhe in apparent pain. The white flesh on its skull bulged and split, revealing bony protuberances and slick, gray flesh which pulsated. The painted-on clown features slid as if melting. The humanoid form twisted, shifted, morphed into something so alien that Edwards’ mind had difficulty grasping the image before her.

    Red Jack revealed his true form.

    * * *

    Deck 470
    Near Turbo-lift 13, approximately 80 meters from Sector Lambda.


    Bonk. Bonk. Thwack.

    Bonk. Bonk. Thwack.

    Bonk. Bonk. Thwack.

    Special Agent Todd Stillman sat on the cold, dusty deck a few feet from the turbo-lift doors. He tossed the rubber ball at the wall again, catching it deftly after one bounce. He kept the small ball in his pocket for times when he just needed to think.

    Or times when he wanted to avoid giving in to sheer terror.

    Bonk. Bonk. Thwack.

    The sound echoed down the deserted corridor despite the anechoic tile that comprised the flooring. The staccato cadence distracted him from the sense of foreboding that hovered over him life thick fog. Focusing on the rhythm of the ball hitting the bulkhead, the deck, and back to him seemed to keep the demons at bay.

    Or whatever the hell lurked beyond the blast doors that guarded Sector Lamba.

    Bonk. Bonk. Thwack.

    He held the ball for a moment and glanced at the time read-out on his wrist communicator. The frinxed-up device now showed 8407 hours, local time. Crazy.

    Obviously, “local” time was out to lunch, replaced by looney-tune time.

    He guessed that Edwards and Harney had been gone about thirty minutes. But it could have been as little as five minutes or as long as five hours. Stillman had a suspicion that normal time had little sway on this level of Starbase 66.

    Bonk. Bonk. Thwack.

    Bonk. Bonk . . .

    “Stillman.”

    “Geez!” exclaimed Agent Stillman, missing the ball and thereby allowing it to hit him squarely in the nose. He scrambled to his feet to face Trevor Harney. The Aborigine had appeared from nowhere. Stillman noted that Harney looked weak and haggard, his brown skin had a sickly gray cast and he seemed to have shed 20 pounds from his already slender frame.

    “Harney! You damn near gave me heart failure. Where’s Edwards? Is she . . .”

    Harney lifted a gnarled hand to silence Stillman. “She has found the boy but the danger is far from over. Even now she confronts the ilichthu'ud.”

    “Alone? Why the hell aren’t you helping her?” he demanded.

    “I am helping her, Todd Stillman. But doing so is taking nearly all my strength. I won’t be able to return her to our realm.” The ageless dark eyes bore into Stillman’s. “You must help her get back to this side.”

    “But how? I thought you said I couldn’t go over there.”

    “To the other universe, no. You would surely die. I can protect you somewhat in The Between, at least for a short duration. But it will be dangerous for you. My strength is fading but I must continue to help Tess.”

    Stillman exhaled slowly. He glanced anxiously down the corridor in the direction of Sector Lambda. Nearly everyone who ventured that way had returned mad or had not returned at all. Swallowing hard, he turned to Harney.

    “Let’s go before I curl up in the fetal position and start sucking my thumb.”

    * * *

    The creature continued to grow and change. All vestiges of its clown-form were gone, replaced by something with which Edwards’ mind had difficulty comprehending.

    The ilichthu'ud appeared partially as a monstrous spider, but also with the features of a dragon and a bull. Even these were inadequate descriptors for a being that existed beyond three dimensions.

    Tess continued her rapid chanting as perspiration dripped from her forehead. Despite the frigid air, she was hot. Her face was red as an internal fire burned within her . . . strengthening her but also draining her. The chant continued through dry and trembling lips, eyes wide and filled with bright light, her gaze never leaving It.

    The creature bellowed, the sound incomprehensible to Tess’ ears. It thrashed about, its limbs tearing at the ground as a spiked tail or tentacle (she could not tell which) smashed through adjacent trees as if they were made of glass. Yet it avoided the child and did not (dared not?) approach Edwards. She could sense the rage and hatred from the monster.

    Fatigue was setting in and Tess realized that she was near the end of her strength. If she ceased the chant, she instinctively knew that both she and Malan would die, torn to shreds by the beast. Time was running out.

    From deep within, Edwards tapped a final reserve of strength. It was now or never.

    She rose from the chair and shoved the table aside. Juud Mo’s severed and burned head rolled away into the snow and ice. Tess approached the monster, now screaming the chant. Her own eyes glowed white with ethereal power. A tempest of ice, snow, rocks and splintered wood surrounded Tess and the ancient creature. She spread her arms wide and met the gaze of the ilichthu'ud.

    In the spinning vortex of earth, wind, ice, and fire, she uttered a final phrase, mystical words that seared her tongue and lips as she spoke them: “L’tha’k . . . Mo'NOR . . . Gu’'TAAH . . . TAL'AH!”

    There was a blinding burst of light and a shockwave blasted forth in all directions. Tess was thrown back twenty meters. She landed awkwardly on a patch of icy ground, sliding until slamming against the trunk of a dead tree. Stunned and with the wind knocked harshly from her lungs, she gasped to breathe, no longer able to speak.

    The melody and strange words that had filled her mind were gone.

    Still gasping and crying from the pain and fatigue, she rolled to her side, expecting to be consumed by the monster.

    But it was gone.

    The table, chairs, corpses, and macabre party decorations were also gone. Only Malan Wright remained, lying still and silent on the ground.

    Every muscle in her body screamed with pain. Her fatigue was overwhelming and her throat felt like she had swallowed razor blades, yet Lt. Edwards managed to get on her hands and knees and crawl toward the boy. With trembling fingers, she checked his neck for a pulse.

    There – faint, thread but his heart was definitely beating. Malan was still alive but unconscious. She collapsed in relief and bone-crushing weariness.

    Tess lay in the slush, wincing at the pain that radiated throughout her body, for several minutes. Gradually, her breathing became less labored and she struggled back to her knees.

    A wave of nausea hit and she vomited up bile and the remnants of her last meal, which seemed eons ago. She felt better though still shaky but she managed to stand, swaying slightly as the landscape tilted. Closing her eyes the dizziness passed and she opened them again, cautiously, to survey her surroundings.

    Sure enough, the clown/monster was truly gone as was any evidence of the bizarre party. The sky was gray and close, the threat of more snow obvious.

    Edwards shivered and realized that both of them were in danger of hypothermia. Wincing, she knelt, her injured knee throbbing in protest, and lifted the boy.

    He was small for his age but she still staggered somewhat under his weight. Malan was unconscious and limp as a wet rag. Gritting her teeth, she hoisted him over her shoulder and began to limp back in the direction from which she came.

    The wind picked up again, and fat, heavy snowflakes began to fall.

    “Really?!”

    She grimaced as she began the journey back to her home universe.The immediate danger was past, but they had a long way to go over treacherous terrain. No, they were not safe.

    Not by a long shot.

    To be continued . . .
     
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  14. CeJay

    CeJay Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

    Joined:
    Feb 5, 2006
    Excellent, another overdue return.

    And what a return. First of all, thank you for adding yet another horrible creature to stalk my nightmares. Red Jack sounds beyond grotesque. The confrontation between Tess and that ... thing was intense, even if it wasn't physical. I wonder if it is really gone, or if, in true horror movie style, it will return back from the dead just when you thought you were safe.

    Tess' reaction at the end is priceless. This place is not giving her a break. Good thing a rescue party is on its way ...
     
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  15. Vorpal_Blade

    Vorpal_Blade Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Joined:
    May 29, 2016
    Location:
    Nebraska
    Awesome chapter! I really enjoyed the confrontation between Tess and Red Jack. I wonder if he is truly gone? Cant wait for the next installment.
     
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  16. Tribble puncher

    Tribble puncher Captain Captain

    Joined:
    Jan 17, 2012
    Location:
    Somewhere witty
    Woohoo, between this, Star Eagle, and the final Chapter of Aurora, it's been a good week! Thanks for putting this up, now to wait and see if Edwards and Stillman can survive the "Victory" lap!
     
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  17. BrotherBenny

    BrotherBenny Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

    Joined:
    Aug 3, 2005
    Location:
    BrotherBenny
    Hey, what happened to the rest of the story???
     
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  18. Vorpal_Blade

    Vorpal_Blade Lieutenant Commander Red Shirt

    Joined:
    May 29, 2016
    Location:
    Nebraska
    Is there going to be anymore?
     
  19. TheLoneRedshirt

    TheLoneRedshirt Commodore Commodore

    Joined:
    May 22, 2007
    Location:
    Here and now.
    Chapter 14 – Lost in the Storm

    Stardate 54838.1 (5 November 2377)
    Location – Unknown


    “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” – Nelson Mandela

    Lt. Edwards cradled Malan Wright as best she could, trying to protect him from the pelting snow. It was difficult, trying to make headway against the freezing wind and treacherous terrain while carrying the boy. Malan was small for his age, but in his unconscious state he was dead weight.

    “Dead weight . . . Poor choice of words,” thought Edwards. She had no idea how much life remained in the boy. If they did not make it back to their home universe and soon, neither of them would survive.

    At least the cold numbed the throbbing pain in her wounded and swollen knee.It was stiff as a board but no longer felt full of jagged glass.

    She proceeded up the next steep hill, perspiring in spite of the cold. Tess knew there was real danger of hypothermia setting in but she had no choice but to keep moving. They had to make it back across the river and soon, or perish in the cold. No time to make shelter or attempt to build a fire. Not that the materials for a fire were ready at hand, the woods were soaked with moisture, her phaser was gone, and her survival training years in the past. Theoretically, she might be able to build a fire with native materials but it was more likely they would both freeze to death first.

    So, she gritted her teeth and moved on.

    Deck 470
    5 meters from Sector Lambda


    Special Agent Stillman and Commander Trevor Harney stood facing the blast doors that separated them from Sector Lambda. Stillman was wide-eyed with apprehension but his mouth was set in determination. Harney merely looked worn and tired, his face now hinting at his great age.

    “What now?” asked Stillman, not taking his eyes off the foreboding doors.

    “Take my hand and close your eyes,” instructed Harney.

    Todd turned his head and glanced down at the gnarled hand extended to him. Grudgingly, he took it.

    “Okay, but this doesn’t mean we’re going steady.”

    The faintest of smiles appeared on the Aborigine’s lips. “Hush now. Close your eyes and keep them closed until I tell you to open them. This will seem . . . strange.”

    “Last time someone said that I woke up in a bathtub full of ice and one of my kidney’s was missing,” he murmured. Sensing Harney’s baleful stare, he continued. “Okay, okay, just kidding. I’m shutting up.”

    Harney began to hum. The sound was odd but strangely soothing to Stillman and he felt his anxiety diminish somewhat.

    Trevor Harney stepped forward and Todd heard the blast doors trundle open. A sour wind hit him in the face with a faint hint of decay. Swallowing, he moved forward, guided by the ancient Australian.

    The two men crossed the threshold into Sector Lambda. There was a moment beyond vertigo . . . beyond merely “strange” where Stillman felt the universe had swallowed him, turned him inside-out, then unceremoniously spat him back out. Todd stumbled but Harney held the agent steady.

    “Are you alright?” asked Harney.

    “Yeah,” replied Stillman, shakily. “Remind me never to do that again.”

    “Keep your eyes closed for now. It would be much worse for you to attempt to see.”

    Considering the Aborigine’s penchant for understatement, Todd nodded. He had no desire the experience “much worse,” considering how Harney’s idea of “strange” had left him feeling as though he'd barely survived a transporter accident, minus a few bits and pieces.

    They proceeded on what initially felt like typical deck tile but soon the surface changed, becoming more undulating. It dawned on Stillman that they were walking on rocky ground or something like it. The temperature had also dropped, colder even than the corridor they had apparently left behind. The smell of decay was much stronger here, mixed with a smoky scent. Something nearby had burned recently.

    “It is safe to open your eyes,” announced Harney.

    Despite the Australian’s assured tone, Stillman cautiously squinted through one eye. Then, he opened the other eye, puzzled by what he saw.

    “Are we back on the holodeck?” But even as he asked the question, he knew that was not the case.

    “No, Todd Stillman. We are no longer on the Starbase at all. We have come to an in-between place, a pale imitation of the child’s memory. We see now as through a mirror, darkly.”

    Stillman cast a sidelong glance at the Aborigine. “You’re a theologian, too?”

    A ghost of a smile appeared on the ancient man’s brown, weathered face. “We have met.”

    Todd pondered this as he surveyed the bleak landscape before him. It was, yet was not, the birthday party setting from whence Malan Wright had disappeared with the clown. The dystopian vista lacked the life and color that had been a part of the holodeck program. Here, the grass and trees were dead and gray, the once colorful tent was shredded and torn, the color leached from the fabric as if by the passing of many years. A once beautiful oak tree was barren and dead, the bare branches hanging over the remains of the tent like talons. The trunk was blackened and parts were smoldering as if recently struck by lightning.

    Stillman’s gaze was drawn to the turbulent river and the sagging bridge. Across the river, the skies were slate gray and it appeared to be snowing in the distance. It was certainly cold enough for snow and Todd shivered slightly.

    Trevor Harney nodded. “They are over there . . . on the other side. Tess has found the boy but she is injured, cold, and weak. The boy also suffers from shock and exposure.”

    Todd made as if to cross the river. “Come on, let’s get moving and help her . . .”

    He was halted by Harney’s iron grip. The Aborigine had incredible strength, despite his current frail appearance. “No, you must not cross over there. You would not survive.”

    Stillman wheeled on the ancient being. “Then what was the point of this, Harney? Did you drag me here just to see where Edwards and the kid will die?”

    “No. Your presence is imperative. When they come to the bridge crossing, you will provide the link to our universe . . . an anchor if you will so to speak . . . that will enable them to return to our realm safely.”

    Stillman pointed toward the rapidly approaching storm front. “They need help now, Harney. You said it yourself; they’re hurt and likely freezing over there. I can’t just stand around and do nothing, I’m going to find them.”

    Harney regarded him sternly. “If you cross that bridge, you will merely become another victim of the ilichthu’ud. Do you not understand, Todd Stillman? It created this place between universes. It makes the rules here. For the moment It has dissipated because I gave Tess a weapon against it. But the effect is only temporary. It will return!”

    “Dammit, Harney! We can’t just leave them over there to die.”

    “No, I have no intention of allowing that. You are not the only help that I have summoned.”

    * * *

    Now the wind was working against them. The snow storm had become a blizzard, creating white-out conditions. The snowflakes accumulated in Tess’ eyelashes, making it difficult to see. She blinked furiously to clear her vision but . . .

    A snow-covered root caught her foot and she fell. Hard.

    Malan’s weight atop her forced the air from her in a painful bark. She gasped for air, the wind knocked from her, and released her grip on the child as they lay on the frozen ground. Malan uttered a weak groan, the first sound he had made since they had left the clearing and the clown-thing.

    Despite her own pain, Tess leaned over the boy, attempting to speak to him but her bruised diaphragm made it difficult to utter words.

    “Uh . . . Mal . . . Ma . . .lan . . .,” she wheezed. Slowly the pain in her midsection eased and she was able to draw in more breath.

    “Malan . . . can you . . . hear me sweetie?” She felt at his neck for a pulse. It was there but weak and thready. Or perhaps it was stronger and her own fingers were too numb to feel it.

    Lt. Edwards glanced around and her heart sank. The path she had been following was now indistinguishable from the rest of the forest, their footsteps now concealed. The swirling snow was a curtain of white every way she turned. And after their fall, she was no longer sure from which direction they had come.

    She cradled the little boy, holding him close to offer a meager amount of warmth from her own body. The rational part of her mind knew they had little time and little hope. Still, if she could keep Malan alive a while longer, even if it meant her own death, perhaps someone might find them and rescue the child.

    Her teeth were chattering and her body was shivering uncontrollably. While they were moving, she managed to stay somewhat warm but now, as the blizzard increased and the temperatures decreased, cold was setting into her body. Her hands and face, exposed as they were, felt numb and lifeless. Her core temperature dropped precipitously.

    Perhaps if she took a short nap, she would gain the energy to get up and move on. Her rational brain screamed to remain awake. But she was so tired . . .

    Tess drifted off to sleep

    * * *

    Snow flakes began to fall gently as Todd Stillman and Trevor Harney waited, the former anxious and antsy, the latter calm and stoic.

    Stillman rubbed his hands together as the temperature continued to drop and snow began to accumulate on the ground. He turned to Harney.

    “So, what’s the story on the clown, Harney? Il-ic-whatever . . . ,” said Stillman, stumbling over the strange word.

    Ilichthu’ud,” the Aborigine replied, still gazing across the river. “He’s an ancient entity of immense power but not of our universe. By now you probably realize the area of space surrounding Starbase 66 is a thin barrier between other universes. The Starbase itself is at an intersection that connects all the multiverse and allows access to each in a manner somewhat like a turbo-lift on a starship.”

    Stillman glanced up at the swirling snowflakes. “Most turbo-lifts don’t include a winter wonderland and homicidal clowns.”

    “The analogy fails to explain the vast reality,” conceded Harney. “However, you cannot yet comprehend the real truth. As to the clown, that is just one manifestation he sometimes uses in this realm. Centuries ago, he was far less powerful and was defeated and banished on several occasions. Now, though, his strength has grown. In his own realm, he is more powerful than the Q and more feared than the Borg. His desire is to expand into other realms, such as our own. His endgame is to terrorize and destroy. He feeds off fear.”

    “And this is the doorway,” muttered Stillman.

    “This is a doorway,” corrected Harney. “And I am one of the guardians of the doors.”

    To be continued.
     
  20. CeJay

    CeJay Rear Admiral Rear Admiral

    Joined:
    Feb 5, 2006
    Nice. About time we got to go back into rabbit hole.

    Although things don't look rosy for Tess and the child. I wonder who Harney's mysterious ally might be. Whoever it is, it's rapidly becoming clear, without a prompt intervention, they're not going to make it.