First Contact

Chapter 161: (Dorknyss)

"Have you checked the children?" came the crackling whisper over the vid-com.

The line went dead as thunder and lightning flashed and boomed outside his heavily armored window, six inches of crysteel with a smartfilm on it.

Shmo'ogo'o looked at the vid-com and frowned. The number was listed as unlisted and secure, no video had come through, and this particular number was not only hidden from the public directory but was carefully screened.

The vid-com chimed again. Unlisted number.

Shmo'ogo'o hit the accept key.

"Have you checked the children?" The voice whispered.

"I don't have any children," Shmo'ogo'o said, frowning.

There was silence for a moment.

"What's your favorite scary movie, Shmo'ogo'o?" the crackling whisper asked.

The Lanaktallan frowned. "Why would someone watch a video production made with the intention to frighten? Doesn't that seem slightly psychotic?"

More silence.

"JUST LOOK OUT THE DAMN BLAH BLEH-BLAH WINDOW!" the voice yelled.

Sighing, wondering who's idea of a prank this was, Shmo'ogo'o stood up and trotted over to the window. He opened the drapes and then squealed in shock.

The Terran was outside the window, even though it was three floors up. His lips were pressed against the glass, pulled into a strange oval that showed off all of his sharp meat tearing teeth. As Shmo'ogo'o watched in horror the Terran opened his jaws, his lips still sealed to the window, showing off the long sharp looking fangs.

Then the Terran performed an action that made Shmo'ogo'o lose control of his bladder.

He inflated his cheeks! Showing just how big his mouth was, how cavernous it was, how many flesh tearing and bone crushing teeth he had. It was a horrifying display of the Terran's jaws.

Screaming, Shmo'ogo'o rushed out of his office and galloped wildly to his gun cabinet. He pulled out an illegal needle pistol and galloped back to his office. There was a robot that was cleaning up the urine from the carpet and he carefully stepped over it and trotted over to the check the window again.

Nothing. Just his elegantly manicured lawns, topiary animals, swimming pools, six luxury cars, two sport hovercars, a rare Western Bongistan Diamondback Goose chasing what looked to be a large black canine, and the stone wall crafted from the finest Azatlan Empire concrete, the last two he had purchased off of GalNet to lord it over his peers.

Harrumphing to himself he turned around and sat back down.

He started to punch in the number to the CounSec Seventh Most High, who at least was still at work and not taking a leave of absence due to 'exhaustion', frowning the whole time.

The vid-com chimed and Shmo'ogo'o's finger accidentally hit accept.

The voice sounded slightly out of breath and Shmo'ogo'o could faintly hear honking and rattling in the background.

Finally the voice spoke.

"It's all for you, Shmo'ogo'o, all for you," the crackling voice said. The line went dead.

A shape fell from above the window, stopping with a cracking jerk that Shmo'ogo'o heard through the armaglass. It bounced off the window, twirled, and bounced again. Shmo'ogo'o's rear eyes opened wide at the horrific scene outside the window.

It was a Terran female, in a black dress, a pale face, long black hair, who's neck was at an impossible angle. It thumped against the window, the feet drumming against the armaglass for a moment.

Shmo'ogo'oa screamed, his hair standing up, his crests inflating, and his tendrils curling as he shat right in his chair.

The eyes snapped open. Burning red eyes that bored into his soul.

"All for you, Shmo'ogo'o," the female Terran said, impossibly able to be heard through the glass.

Screaming, Shmo'ogo'o closed his side and rear eyes, grabbing the needler, and whirling around in a kick that hit his desk.

There was nothing there. Just "ERROR" blinking at the top of the window's smartfilm.

Shmo'ogo'o shuddered, reached out, and closed the drapes to the window.

The vid-com rang.

Shuddering, Shmo'ogo'o ignored it. He knew on the fifth ring the answering service would pick it up. Let them deal with whatever was going on.

Instead, on the fourth ring, he heard his own voice coming from the vid-com.

"Council Planetary Securty Second Most High Shmo'ogo'o, how may I assist you?" his own voice asked from the vid-com.

Shmo'ogo'o shuddered in fear.

The voice was a sibilant whisper. "It's astounding..."

The line clicked off.

Trembling, Shmo'ogo'o turned to look as the curtians slowly opened on their own violition.

The smartfilm was displaying a message, slowly, one letter at a time.

"time is fleeting"

The clock on the wall started flashing error, catching the attention of Shmo'ogo'o's side eye. The numbers suddenly rippled, showing strange symbols.

Shmo'ogo'o shuddered in fear, almost stepping on the robot cleaning up the mess he had made.

"Madness... takes its toll," the robot squeaked, then squealed, then went in circles and hid under the desk.

Shmo'ogo'o reared up then galloped around his office, squealing in terror. He raced out the door of his office and into the hallway that went the length of his mansion.

At the far end of the hallway, in front of the elevator, was a sight that made all six of his eyes bulge as he stared.

Two diminutive Terran female children, each wearing pale blue dresses and shiny black shoes, their yellow hair done up in braids.

"Come and play with us," the both said at the same time. Trembling, Shmo'ogo'o aimed the needler and started firing. He saw the needles sparkling off the walls, off his holoportriats, off his marble busts, shattering the fine crystal of his niknaks.

Both girls exploded into a wave of spiders that immediately started flowing toward him, all skittering legs, clacking jaws, and bright red eyes. The covered the carpet, started climbing up the walls, all heading straight at him.

Screaming, Shmo'ogo'o galloped down the ramp, panting in terror, firing the needler wildly into the shadows. When it clicked empty Shmo'ogo'o threw it at a looming shadow in a doorway and barely made the corner to gallop into the dining room.

He skidded to a stop, staring at the scene in front of him.

His carved wooden tabletop was set with his fine crystal diningware, the silverware all out and gleaming. A feast was laid out, including roast beast of the kind favored by the Shavashan. Fine wine was in the decanters, poured in the glasses. His servants were gathered around the table, dressed in their finest flank coverings and sashes.

Seated at the head of the able was the Terran, all in black, a medallion on his chest, looking at the food on his plate.

Shmo'ogo'o would have befouled the carpet if he had still any contents in his bowels. Instead he just trembled and stared in horror.

The Terran slowly turned to look at him.

"Pardon me," the Terran said in perfectly accented Lanaktallan. "But do you have any Grey Poupon?"

Shmo'ogo'o's nerve broke and he ran screaming from his manor, galloping down the rainy street.

He stopped to gain his breath, panting, leaning against a light pole when he heard a squeaking sound. Trembling in terror, he turned to look.

The Terran was on a three wheeled red and white pedal conveyance, slowly coasting out of an alley, its hands on the steering bar, feet on the pedals, cloak streaming behind it as if there was a strong wind.

The Terran lifted up one hand, pointed two fingers at its own eyes, then pointed with six fingers at Shmo'ogo'o.

The Lanaktallan screamed and began galloping down the street, not stopping until LawSec caught him in a big net and shot him with tranq darts.

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CONFEDMILINT

Oh God. It just keeps getting worse.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Please don't yell. My head still hurts. All eighty-five trillion of them.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CYBERNETIC ORGANISM COLLECTIVE

How bad is it?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFEDMILINT

It's bad. OK. Just trust us.

It's making us look like complete idiots.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

RIGELLIAN COMPACT

I don't know. All of their headlines read like these.

"TERROR IN THE CAPITOL!"

"TERRANS LURKING IN EVERY SHADOW! ARE YOU SAFE? EXPERTS SAY NO!"

"HOW TO TELL IF YOUR NEIGHBOR IS SECRETLY A TERRAN! NUMBER EIGHT WILL SURPRISE YOU!"

"CITY MOST HIGH PLEADS FOR CALM AMID WAVE OF TERROR WITH SPOOKY TERRAN RIGHT BEHIND HIM!"

"OH, GOD, WHAT DOES IT WANT?"

Seems pretty effective to me.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFEDMILINT

It's just the whole thing.

I mean, we're supposed to have decorum. There's rules, you know? They're acting like we're breaking them. None of this had been fatal or anything like that, but they're acting like Daxin himself just landed at the Starport.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

You realize, the Lanaktallan don't know the rules, right? All they know is some creepy looking Terran is lurking around the city.

Daxin they can understand, this thing, not so much.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

I'm not sure I understand it.

Oh man, my head really hurts.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

That's what you get for gorging on ice cream for three days straight.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFEDMILINT

The worst part is, um, it looks like he might have, well...

A thing. A thing that, you know, might have been part of a black project.

You know, one of those projects nobody knows about and we claim we never funded?

A really really black one.

A bad one.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

BIOLOGICAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

Why did the pucker factor of this chat suddenly skyrocket.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

Define... bad one.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFEDMILINT

Um, he might have, in his possession, a chaos seed generator. You know, the quantum device that observes random particles to change their state in order to generate the most space-time chaos event curve.

Apparently... he has one.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

...

...

...

RIGELLIAN COMPACT

You have to be kidding me.

What in the name of Cybernetic Saint Peter ever possessed you to go through with that project?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFEDMILINT

You know... death to the Varakson Empire.

I'm sure it made sense to the researchers at the time why we developed it.

It was one of those things, you know?

Kind of like the Nazgul Protocol made sense at the time.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

The what?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CONFEDMILINT

Nothing.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

MANTID FREE WORLDS

Don't you nothing me!

YOU GET BACK HERE!

>CONFEDMILINT HAS LEFT THE CHAT (IT APPEARS I LEFT THE OVEN ON)

Oh my God, this just keeps getting worse.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

RIGELLIAN COMPACT

I don't know. I think it's kind of funny.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Hey, who bricked the food dispenser in the break room?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---