This World Belongs to the Monsters
Dr. Chesya Burke
CHAPTER 1: David
Earth smelled acrid, sulfuric, and hostile. Like rotten eggs that had been buried in the soul of the Earth a thousand years ago, releasing a permanent, noxious yellow cloud over the entire planet from season to season—which were basically nonexistent by this point anyway. Whereas Mars had always been “the Red Planet,” the Earth’s new nickname was “the Yellow Star.” The air had become almost completely unbreathable in the hundred short years that mankind had almost completely surrendered it to the elements. David adjusted the air hose at the base of his neck, making sure there were no leaks, and the connection was secure. The fumes were toxic and dangerous to everyone, but somehow those who remained had adapted to the environment, defying scientists who predicted their demise would have come more than eighty years before.
But these people didn’t die. Ever.
He slowed his wagon, stopping completely in front of a thousand-year-old wrought iron gate—an old plantation house that was amazingly well-kept. Someone took pride in this place; someone loved it. The horse buckled, shook its head, then took several steps backward, as if afraid. David clicked his teeth and stayed the beast on the reins. “There, there. An hour. Then I’m getting off this planet. Sorry you have to stay, boy.” The horse was a girl, but David didn’t know this, and he didn’t particularly care.
Before he could get down and walk over to ease the creature, David had the overwhelming feeling of being watched. Looking up, he expected to see someone at the gate approaching him. But there was no one. It was difficult to see far into the distance because of the fog, but David scanned the wall that stood about three feet high and as far as he could see beyond onto the property. From his limited view, the land was populated with relatively healthy, lush trees and vegetations. Despite the harsh atmosphere, this land thrived. Since landing, David had seen that much of the planet could not boast the same.
When he had first been asked to come to this godforsaken planet, he tried desperately to control the feeling of shock displayed on his face though the teleprompter. He, like every human being on every colonized planet in the known galaxy, believed that Earth was uninhabitable. Every school-aged citizen of United Interplanetary Coalition (UIP, for short) had been taught that after the climate apocalypse and millions of worldwide deaths that scientists around the world had been forced to speed up their efforts for full planet evacuation. With major governments of the world coming together to form the Coalition (eventually becoming UIP), the Kepler telescope mission in search of exoplanets habitable outside of our solar system was successful and universal colonization began. “K” planets were discovered and inhabited at previously impossible and unimaginable rates.
Being confronted with the truth about the survivors on Yellow Star made him physically ill. David had ancestors he believed had not survived that time in human history. Many people didn’t. Perhaps, he realized, not as many as had been previously reported. UIP leaders knew about the existence of these people, so perhaps they knew about surviving relatives he may have on this planet as well. At this point, he just wanted to get back to Homeplanet and find out whatever he could—of course only if he could do it without being considered an apostate.
Someone at UIP knew the truth. After all, they had known to send him here.
For her.
And there she was. A figure out in the distance, on the land, watching him, unmoving. Adorned in all white, colorful beads and copper jewelry. As the dense yellow fog shifted in the wind, more figures became visible. At least several dozen—over fifty by his estimation—were observing every move he made before he even knew they had been there. They could have killed him before he reached for any one of his pistols. He was grateful they weren’t as quick to draw as most gunslingers on other planets would have been.
He dismounted his wagon and just as his foot touched the reach, someone extended a gloved hand to help him down. He stopped for a minute, looked to his benefactor, and accepted the gracious offer. The hand offered to him was small but strong. On the ground, before doing anything else, he bent, one knee touching the soil, and said the regulated government prayer: “Honor to the Forefathers for their deliverance to the true mission of His Holy One. Amen.” When he stood, he felt slightly embarrassed as the figure before him stared on in amusement. She was no more than an inch shorter than David who stood at five feet, eleven inches tall. Unlike David, her face was not covered although her body was completely adorned in white and beads, much like the other figures. Her skin was dark, full, and bright. Healthy.
Before he could speak a word, the woman made a gesture with her hand toward the gate. He nodded and walked to the opening. The wrought iron stood at least seven feet tall, the coal-black bars thick and seemingly impenetrable. The opening within the bars offered a clear view of the land beyond to the large, white plantationesque house about a half mile back. The gates opened automatically as he approached them to reveal dozens of white-clad Black women.
The women stood in various formations, which was clearly a strategic defense measure. Each wore a white suit jacket, an ankle-length white skirt, white tie, white headwrap, and black shirt. They were the picture of a strong, well-disciplined regiment and this alone was intimidating. However, each woman also sported some form of historic assault rifle. Cleaned, well preserved, and clearly still functioning. The woman that David was absolutely certain he had been sent to retrieve stood in the center of the group. She was all of six feet tall and was at least 280 pounds. David was a gun connoisseur and immediately recognized the 1950s-era G3 the woman sported, almost as if a prized possession. The women all assumed the patrol carry position, their straps wrapped around their backs, the shooting end of the rifle aimed downward. Their fingers rested close to, but not on, the trigger. They were trained—well.
“Do you speak English?”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him, a grin spreading across her face. “You are on formerly stolen lands of the United States of the Americas. I should be more surprised that you, Descendant, speak English.”
“Descendant?” David was confused.
“You are a descendant of absconders of the former Earth, are you not?”
David nodded. “I see. All UIP descendants are required to learn English.”
The woman frowned, “UIP?”
“United Interplanetary Coalition. What you likely knew as the Coalition when you fought them almost half a century ago.”
“I see.” The woman stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. Her gaze was threatening. He didn’t know if he should try to meet her eyes or avert to show respect. After all, he was here to convince her to travel to the other side of the universe with him, a stranger. This would be a lot to expect from anyone, especially an apostate suppressive, someone who had not only abandoned or denied her faith and government, but who had waged all-out war against the UIP.
After a moment she mumbled one word: “FUCK,” then simply turned and walked away.
David watched her go, looking around, but none of the other women moved positions, all watching him intently. After a moment the woman turned and nodded for him to follow.
Had he just passed some sort of test?
* * *
Inside the house was exactly what you would expect from an ex-plantation. It was stunning, ornately designed and rather gaudy—especially for more modern UIP standards of minimalist design, usually due to the lack of available space and air for most individual dwellings on other planets. But this structure was massive and easily could hold the number of people he’d already seen here.
“Who are you, young man?” The woman sat on what could only be considered a throne, David standing before her as a peasant. The parlor was full of bay windows, opening the room to vivid yellow sunlight, feeding a massive collection of hundreds of differing plants and vegetation. The room was a magnificent array of bright colors and light, illuminated by a tinted yellowish haze that gave the space a comfortable, pleasant feeling. He hadn’t seen indoor gardens like this outside of museums on other planets.
David responded as he had on every mission. “I am a humble delegate of the honorable descendants of Abraham, and chosen to fulfill the holy mission of the United Interplanetary Coalition.” But Mary, Queen of Wagons, was a different bounty for UIP, so sensitivity was required: “More importantly, I’ve been sent here to beg your grace and pardon as your help is required on K283c, a planet in the circumstellar habitable zone of the Taurus constellation.”
“So, you’re an interstellar missionary.” She paused and met his eyes. “Or are you a mercenary? No,” she reasoned, “you are one and the same. . . But tell me, Mr. honorable descendants of Abraham, who are you?”
David was again confused. “I. . . I am David Wálé.”
The woman smiled. “Okay. David Wálé. Who am I?”
David was silent.
“Who did they tell you I was, David Wálé?”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am. They told me you were her.”
The woman stared at him but did not speak, so David blurted it out while he had the nerve. “Mary, Queen of Wagons, ma’am.”
The woman snickered. “Mary, Queen of Wagons? Is that what they call me?”
“Yes. . . I mean, I don’t rightly know how this is possible, ma’am. The legends of Ms. Wagons have her dying in the war against the Coalition forty-three years ago on Homeplanet, but my employers are rarely wrong about these things.”
“Why Wagons?”
“Well, ma’am, because you charged a wagon full of dynamite into the Vatican City capitol building, making you the only apostate suppressive in UIP history to successfully wage war against the government.”
“So, your UIP teachings have me dying in that goddamn wagon, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s what we learn in grade school.” He paused for a moment, “Is it true? Is it you?”
“Mayhaps it is. Mayhaps it ain’t.”
“Ms. Wagons? It’s you, isn’t it?”
“I did some version of those things in my youth. But what the fuck do they want that sent you here?” She almost seemed to be thinking out loud, but David responded anyway.
“To kill monsters, ma’am.”
“Monsters? Ain’t that a. . . You know they called me a monster.”
David could not meet her gaze; he had heard the stories of her monstrosities. “These are real, ma’am.”
“Are they?” She paused. “Who sent you?”
“Mother Amadeus Dun, ma’am.”
Mary glared her dark eyes at him, more serious than she had been previously. “Mother Amadeus?” She didn’t take her eyes off him.
He nodded, almost afraid to speak. He looked around at the armed women lining the room, held his hand up as if to show he was not a threat. “May I?” David reached for his bag and, with approval, dug inside, pulling out a videophone he offered to Mary. The older woman nodded to one of the women who took it from him and examined it, then handed it to the older woman.
David was not standing in a position to see the prerecorded video, and he had not had the classification to know what was on it prior to this moment, but he could hear the words. Static crackling slowly gave way to the voice of an older woman whose words were measured and deliberate:
Greetings old friend! [pause] I reach out to you as a humble delegate of the honorable descendants of Abraham, and I am chosen to fulfill the holy mission of the United Interplanetary Coalition. This message, unfortunately, comes, not out of the desire to reconnect—although it has been way too many years since I have seen my dear friend—but because of tragedy. [pause] Mary, you are legend, and quite frankly the best gunslinger in all the known universe. We taught our children to fear you and everything you represent. I know the adversity that you have gone through, and I have been through many of them with you. But I ask of you now to use your talents for good one last time. [long pause]
Mary stole a glance at him and then back to the screen. David met her gaze for an appropriately respectable amount of time before looking away, at the floor. His responsibility was to do everything he could to convince Mary to return with him. He was good at his job.
Mary, dear friend, you are quite literally the only person that I think can handle this the way it must be handled. It will require a steadfast, honorable woman. It requires you, Mary, Queen of Wagons. Be steadfast, my companion in arms.
It was a long moment after closing the video screen before she turned to David. The woman was seemingly lost in thought, contemplating something to which no one else in the room was privy. David did his job, stayed silent, and allowed the woman the space to think. Usually the first answer was always no, so David was afforded several incentives in his arsenal to convince the target to do what UIP asked of them. Incentives could consist of anything from large sums of money to threatening bodily harm against the target and/or the target’s family. David was the soft-sale man; he was usually the agent dispatched to acquire targets of great value who needed psychological incentives rather than physical ones. He deplored violence but was well trained and handy with most weapons, both traditional and makeshift. Rarely knowing what was required of the target before he acquired them, he preferred to keep it that way, maintaining a comfortable mental distance in case the target needed neutralizing later down the line. The Coalition, who had changed in name only, was powerful and had a very long reach. The less he knew about any given incident—because if agents like David were sent to the scene there was always an incident—the safer he was.
Pick up the target, deliver them to their destination, protect them to ensure your mission is successful, and get your ass back to Homeplanet. That was the job, that was always the job. This mission should have been the same. But it didn’t feel the same. It felt off, wrong, different somehow. Only days into it, he’d learned that a vital part of UIP history was a lie and that the most famous gunfighters of the century had not died in one of the biggest fuck-ups in UIP history. And now he, David Wálé, stood before the woman herself. Mary, Queen of Wagons. Now his only job would be to convince this larger-than-life woman to sign on to the very same Coalition who had been responsible for the most tragic events in human history.
After a while Mary looked up to him and shook her head. David knew it was time for his skills to take over, but before he could open his mouth, Mary stayed him with one finger, “I’ll go.” David didn’t have to respond to this. She didn’t ask any questions. She didn’t beg for money. She didn’t seem to desire or need anything at all.
Mary, Queen of Wagons, did not make sense to him. David was paid to think but thinking too much or about the wrong things in his line of work got you killed. However, he had to know: “Why?”
“Because a debt is owed to me.”
No other explanation was given.
* * *
The trip to K283c should have been completely uneventful. But David’s companion was the infamous cigar-smoking, loud-talking, gambling Mary, Queen of Wagons. And they had a layover on an outlaw planet, K2-155d.
As David and his companion arrived on the planet, an overhead speaker above the woman’s head broadcast UIP’s mission: You are but humble delegates of the honorable descendants of Abraham, and you are chosen to fulfill the holy mission of the United Interplanetary Coalition. Forever praise to the forefathers for their guidance and oversight, Amen! David had grown accustomed to the ambient drone of what they all had been convinced was the holy message. Mary, however, did not handle it as well as he had hoped. Slightly groggy from the trip, she used her boot to dislodge a speaker from the wall, causing it to tumble to the floor. That speaker was dead, shooting sparks into the air from the opened wires, however, at least a dozen more assaulted their ears shouting the same message.
David watched Mary, who in her own right seemed to have accepted that this was at least one battle she couldn’t win. “I’m sure you’re tired. And. . . it’s mandated that private spaces don’t have UIP speakers—for now. I’ve made accommodations at the finest hotel on the planet. If we. . . ”
“I could use a huge cigar and an even bigger glass of whiskey.”
“Oh. . . I thought maybe. . . rest. . . ” Mary simply watched him, like a judgmental parent. “Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s get a drink.”
“And a cigar.”
“And a cigar,” he agreed.
From there, a series of air-filled underground tunnels led to the different zones of the community. The saloon, in the sketchy zone, was predictable if you accommodated for the fact that Mary picked it herself. Dark, smoky, funky. Mary didn’t care. She walked up to the bar, took a stool, and ordered top-shelf whiskey, double. Scanning the cigars on the shelf, she rose to her full height and peered over both the counter and the bartender, finally choosing the most expensive one available—“Now, make it a double too,” she told the man, winking. And why not? It was on UIP’s dime, all expenses covered. She looked at him as she lit her cigar as if expecting him to say something about her expensive taste. But his job was not to police her budget; his job was to keep her alive at least until she had completed her mission. UIP rarely cared if someone died after having succeeded at their task. David, however, did care, so he would ensure that the woman got back home safe as he always had done for each of his details. After a moment of watching him, she smirked and downed the entire double shot in one gulp. When she was finished, she tipped her glass to him and loudly dropped it to the counter, motioning the bartender over to refill her glass, cutting her eyes at a particularly loud table of men at the back of the bar.
The UIP low-frequency speakers were at least impartial; the obnoxious tone of the too excited orator droned on in the bar, there, in the shadiest part of the colony, to the needy, indigent, impoverished, destitute, and penniless. The speakers cracked, expelling more static than words: Always remember, it warned this time, you are but humble delegates of the honorable descendants of Abraham, and you are chosen to fulfill the holy mission of the United Interplanetary Coalition. Forever praise to the forefathers for their guidance and oversight, Amen!
While Mary ignored the warning, her antics were enough to catch the attention of others in the saloon, of course. Anyone who put on this kind of display of wealth in a territory such as this would be looking for trouble. David kept his eye on the rugged men at the table Mary had also seen, the men who kept whispering and pointing to them. Mary seemed completely oblivious to the happenings around her and, for a brief moment, David wondered how Mary had earned her reputation if she was this ignorant of the universe.
“You’re worried about those sonovabitches in the corner?”
“They seem particularly concerned about us.”
“Do they scare you?”
“I can handle myself.” He paused for a moment then asked, “Do they scare you?”
She downed her drink, pounded the glass, loudly, and asked for another. “Nope.”
“I mean, because this kind of display of wealth can get you killed on trek.” He was clearly annoyed.
“I know.” She leaned in and smirked at him, again. She was good at that, and David was starting to think that that was the one thing he hated the absolute most about her.
Before she could say anything else, a large man in an ironworker’s uniform, caked with dirt from his hair to his steel-toed boots, walked up and stood behind Mary, placing his right hand on the bar, blocking her exit. The men from his table stood up, in unison, several of them spreading out, flanking the tiny room, one taking lookout at the door.
Over the years, David had realized that to most, he looked unassuming. He learned to use this to his advantage, dressing plainly and intentionally constructing his mannerisms and behavior to appear docile. He adjusted himself in the seat to look as nervous as possible. While this action was genuine—and David was in fact apprehensive—it was greatly exaggerated. His behavior was simply to put the group off guard, causing them to let their defenses down, lulling them into believing that they could easily overpower him. Mentally, however, he was contemplating the number of active motions it would take to lift his leg, swiftly and effortlessly unclicking his ankle holster, while simultaneously pulling out his gun and pointing it at the man’s head. The barrel of his peace shooter pointing at their friend’s head should take the cells out of the rest of the group. If it didn’t, without hesitation David would kill the man and as many of the people in that bar that he needed to protect his bounty.
“Looks like you’re buying drinks,” the man said to Mary while looking at David. He had the quintessential raspy voice of an ironworker.
“Said who?” Mary, face down in her drink, stirred what accounted for ice on this planet.
“Said me, bitch.”
“A million miles from home, and they still call me bitch.” Mary slowly raised her head and looked at David. Winked. Before David could react, Mary stood to her feet with the motion of youth she hadn’t seen for over forty years, positioned her six-foot-tall, 280-pound body so that the man was boxed in, and without uttering a single word, grabbed the back of his head and bounced it on the edge of the bar. In fluid motion, Mary used her left hand to grab her side piece—she was rumored to be ambidextrous—pointing the handgun at the remaining group. David was momentarily in awe of what he had just witnessed, but luckily, he was well trained, and instincts took over. Within seconds, he too was aiming his Glock at the men.
Blood from the man’s head, nose, and mouth poured down the bar, several of his teeth spilling out. In the outer regions of the known universe, trees and other sources of softer resources were rarely available. So, most things were made of local materials, such as stone—like the bar which Mary had just used to paint the saloon blood red. She had hit the man so hard, blood spatter even dotted the ceiling. As the man lay on the ground holding his face, moaning, his group of friends scrambled over themselves to run away. Mary reached into her pocket, pulled out UIP tender and paid the bartender, who had simply watched the happenings as if they were the most normal things in the world. Meanwhile, David scanned the room to make sure there were no more troublemakers. Neither had holstered their gun, but no one else in the room cared, most just continuing in their own drunk stupors. After paying and tipping the bartender very well, still holding her gun on the rest of the room, Mary bent down and whispered something in the bleeding man’s ear, her eyes and gun darting back and forth between the other people in the room.
“You’re her, aren’t you? Mary, Queen of Wagons?” spoke a man from the back of the room, who looked like he could have been related to Mary. His eyes twinkled while talking to the woman.
“Mayhaps I am. Mayhaps I ain’t.”
“They tell stories of you, girl. I thought you was dead.” He respected her.
“Mayhaps I am. Mayhaps I ain’t.” She winked at the Black man, this expression somehow more personal and intimate than the winks she had offered David—which were accusatory somehow. For a moment, he was momentarily jealous of the respect she offered the stranger, who smiled back at Mary, tipping his hat. The woman holstered her gun, grabbed her own hat from the bar, licked her finger to rub off the smudge of blood from the broken man, then walked out the bar as if nothing had happened. David, on the other hand, did not trust to turn his back on this group of people, so he kept his gun aimed as he slowly backed out of the bar, stepping over the man on the floor.
“Ya cause trouble everywhere you go, don’t’cha? You knew that was gonna happen.” The two had walked most of the way to their hotel in complete silence. David had a million questions running around in his head, but he didn’t know how to appropriately ask any of them. Mary, David figured, didn’t really have anything to say to him at all. Sure, David had backed her up, but she hadn’t actually needed him. This was going to be a learning curve for him. His normal routine was to take command of both the situation and the target. In this moment, though, he was relatively sure that Mary would not allow him control over anything on this trip. David didn’t mind playing second fiddle, but he drew the line at outright foolish behavior.
“Where are you from?”
“What. . . I. . . What? I told you I’m from Homeplanet. And what does that have to do with. . . ”
“I mean your people. Where are they from?”
“My people? What kind of question. . . ”
“It gets hard to constantly code switch, doesn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The need to hide that old Southern Black lineage. You try to keep it at bay, but it slips out when you’re upset, doesn’t it? No matter how hard you try, you can’t hide it. You’re so afraid they’ll read that Southern Black trash ancestry all over you, despite your pristinely pressed suit and 5,000-UIP-tender shoes.” She stopped walking and turned to look at him.
How did she. . . How did she know anything about him?
“Because I was a lot like you. Back on Yellow Star, after the UN converged into the Coalition and abandoned the Earth. Back before I realized they had colonized the whole god-damn universe. I was born after the great escape and eighteen years old when I fought them. I didn’t know who I was before that but had to put on my fucking britches and make hard decisions.”
“I’ve read about that time in history. But it has nothing to do with me. You’re deflecting. You don’t want to answer my question about the glee you get from stirring shit everywhere you go. You know nothing about me. And for the record, I want to find my people if they are alive. And I code switch because that’s how I survive this massive coalition of oligarchs. Got it?”
She sucked her teeth, and walked in silence to their destination. Before entering, Mary turned to him: “He had raped a woman earlier in the day as they all watched. A sex worker. Do you understand? That’s why they were so full of spite and venom. That’s why they thought they could beat the world. That’s why I broke his face.”
“A goods trader? How do you know this?”
“I know things. The things I know is why Mother Amadeus sent for me.”
“What could possibly. . . What type of work does Mother Amadeus Dun do for the church?”
“Exorcisms.”
David blinked, spoke slowly, “What did you whisper to him?”
“What I said to that man is between him and his maker.”
CHAPTER 2: Mary
Kepler’s most successful accomplishment had been that it found a host of worlds orbiting safe distances from their stars in habitable zones. Unlike other Kepler worlds in this system, such as K2-155d, K283c was not an outlaw planet. It was lush with vegetation, and the air was nontoxic and tolerable, if not pleasant. There was an emerald tint about the land that foretold amazing possibilities, and lovely fantasies. This was surely to be a planet reserved for the wealthiest, the elite of the elite. But there was a major problem.
The monsters.
And Mary, Queen of Wagons, understood monsters. After all, she had been considered one of the most treacherous ones to slither the lands of Yellow Star. The large woman was ushered into a large meeting room; the expensive amplifier broadcasting the UIP message was louder and clearer here than it had been on K2-155d. David moved silently behind her, stopping just at the closed door, at ease. The room was big, but Mary’s presence was greater. Everyone in the room feared her. She liked it that way.
A white man in an unnecessarily gaudy suit sat behind a large, lovely wood desk. Mary knew many Yellow Star tree breeds, but this one was unknown to her, so it was likely a local species. The inner diameter growth rings displayed patterns she hadn’t seen before; it was magnificent—appropriately conveying both power and status for its owner.
She hated him immediately.
Mary recognized the woman standing behind the throned man, so she ignored him and walked over to her longtime friend, grabbing the woman’s hands.
“Mother Amadeus Dun, as I live and breathe. Ma’am, how the hell are you?”
“Mary, my love. It is so good to see you.” The woman noticeably darted her eyes at the man in the unknown animal-skin chair. “I’m sorry it’s under such difficult conditions.” Mary unhanded the woman and stood to her full height, awaiting her introduction. “Okay, Mary, I want to introduce you to William Enol Wylie, the Baron of K283c territory.” The white woman put her hand lightly on Mary’s back to guide her to shake the man’s hand. Mary didn’t make this easy, finally sucking her teeth, and extending her hand, which she squeezed between her large fingers, tightly. In the back of the room, David smirked loudly.
“Very nice to meet you, Ms. Wagons. It’s an absolute pleasure.” The man flashed every tooth in his mouth—they were white and straight. The Baron was the first to release, noticeably shaking his hand, as if in pain.
He was a shyster. Mary read him right away, and she smiled politely. “My pleasure.”
“You have a strong grip, Ms. Wagons. I like that. I trust your trip was uneventful.”
She stole a glance back at David, gracing him with her signature wink. “Well, Baron, travels can be difficult in these times.”
“That they can, ma’am, that they can.” He motioned for her to take one of the seats in front of him. “First, I want to thank you for coming. I know you have. . . history. . . with UIP.”
“I do not, sir. I was unaware of the existence of UIP until Mr. Wálé here told me of them.”
“I see.” The man looked to Mother Amadeus. “I was made to believe that. . . ”
“I do take grievance with the legacy of your coalition, sir. I do not condone the actions taken against the peoples within your purview. UIP’s arms reach far. And they are unnecessarily vicious.”
“I understand your concern completely. Let me assure you that UIP is not the same organization,” he offered, despite the overhead speakers in the background belying his words. “And as a humble UIP delegate, I have authorization to give you anything you want in exchange for your help in this sensitive situation. And, personally, I want to give you a heartfelt apology for the actions of the past Coalition and, while I cannot change the past, I offer the assurances that we have learned from our mistakes. You are our first priority. Spared no expense, of course.”
Mary smirked. “Not many people can reference those old one-liners so easily.”
“UIP has done a remarkable job of preserving worthy historical and cultural artifacts.”
The Black woman looked to the nun, studying her face. After finding what was she was looking for, Mary shrugged. “That sounds a lot like the old fucking Coalition. But what’s the situation you find yourselves in?”
The man pushed a button on his desk, and a loud buzzing sound rang throughout the room. Within moments, the large ten-foot-high double doors to the right swung opened and two men entered dragging something wrapped in a large, heavy tarp. The men, both large and clearly stronger than most human males, struggled to handle the load within. Finally, they dropped it, with a thud, to the furred carpet in the ample space just beside the desk. The men saluted then stood, at ease. The Baron nodded toward the bag and one of the soldiers unzipped the tarp.
A foul stench filled the space, followed closely by the sound of one of the limbs of the creature tumbling out. The appendage was massive, at least six foot long with hooked claws extending from thick, black, leathery skin. Mary stood to her feet to examine the creature. Careful not to touch it, she bent to half her height, her face uncomfortably close to the creature.
“This one has six limbs,” one of the soldiers warned her.
The woman stood full height, meeting the soldier in the eyes. “This one? Fuck say?”
The man glanced around the room, first at the Baron, the nun, David and then back at Mary. “They’re all different, some hundreds of times this size, some not even half. Some fly, some sneak in from underground. These are drones. The others are called the Brains. They’re different than these, ma’am. The Brains are smart and seem to connect. . . psychically.”
“I see.” Mary was clearly intrigued. “Drones?”
“Workers who don’t seem to have original thoughts, but instead follow some preset orders from the Brains. They are always connected and updating. There’s a lot we don’t know.”
Mary bent down again, this time laying her hand on the creature, connecting with the scaly skin. Instantly, a bright light expelled from between the two beings, throwing Mary backward, and causing her to skid unnaturally across the floor of the office, ending at David’s feet. The man helped her up.
“We’ve never seen it do that before.” The soldier seemed concerned.
The Baron jumped up and ordered the soldiers out the room. They obeyed, and the door shut just as Mary had gotten to her feet again. The two companions shared a look before Mary stormed back to the desk, her footfalls heavy, angry.
The Baron held out his hands. “Wait! Don’t get angry, Ms. Wagons. . . ”
Before he finished, Mary was on him, towering over the man by almost a foot. At his full height, the Baron was five feet two. “You’re keeping secrets, Baron.”
The nun walked between Mary and the smaller man. “Yes, Mary. There are things we need to tell you.”
“Then tell me.” The Black woman gathered herself and made a show of walking back to her seat, picking up her hat—which had fallen in the commotion—and lowering herself slowly to the chair.
The Baron was clearly afraid, but Mary didn’t know if he feared her or the monsters more. “They. . . they have psychic abilities. They can connect through some form of telepathy, so they are always ahead of us, always knowing what we intend to do.”
“Go on.”
He went to the creature, kicked it. “But Soldier Williams was right. The drones like these are somehow sent orders. The Brains are smart, very smart. Listen, the subordinate alien species here, the locals, are closer in size to people and not a problem. They are subservient and docile.”
Mary stopped him with a finger. “Subordinate, subservient and docile are much better words than enslavement, but I suspect there’s not much difference in their meanings in this case, am I right?”
“That’s not at all what I mean. UIP’s policy does not promote slavery. What I meant is that they are protected by these creatures.”
“Of course, they don’t. What do you mean by protected?”
“I mean to say that we cannot connect with the beings of this planet, can’t barter or negotiate in any way because these creatures will not allow us access to them. It’s like they’re gods or something. . . That’s it, old Greek gods. That’s pretty much what they are. . . So, I mean to say. . . ”
“Oh, I know what you mean, Baron. What do you want from me?”
“We want you to train the men.”
“Anyone can train men.” She sucked her teeth and crossed one leg over the other as if she was offended.
“Not like you. UIP soldiers study your. . . rebellion. They respect you.” The man paused. “Large groups of my men have just gone missing in the night, straight from their barracks without anyone seeing a thing. They just get up, walk out of their bunks and disappear. In battle these creatures are fast and make decisions before we can even react, as if they know exactly what we plan to do. There is something wrong about these creatures.”
He went to the door. “Come with me, please.”
The group followed him through the doors that the soldiers had previously used, down a well-lit corridor to a Tach conveyor that took them a few thousand miles away to a war zone. This area of the world was not officially in the No Zone, where the monsters were believed to originate, but still UIP struggled to maintain control.
Mary, Sister Dun, David and the Baron watched from an observation window as UIP soldiers fought a losing battle against a stronger, more effective army of what could only be called monsters. It was initially difficult to understand what she was seeing as smoke from the gunfire was heavy. From this distance the thousands of gunshots dotting the sky looked like small rays of light. As the smoke shifted in the wind it revealed winged and larger land-bodied creatures dominating the landscape. The soldiers’ bullets had little effect on the creatures. The gas-powered tank rounds struck armored-plated flesh with little impact. Under the emerald sky, the men took cover using the natural landscape and crevices in the valley, but the winged creatures swooped down and grabbed the men, discarding the bodies into the distance.
“We were using armor piecing, but had to switch to APDSFS, sixth gen.” The Baron shook his head. “Nothing works.”
The scene was brutal, and it was clear that UIP could not win. After what seemed like an incredibly long time, the soldiers managed to take down an extremely large creature, taking a defensive position around the body and emptying their clips, quickly taking cover again. The massive creature stood at least seven feet tall on all fours. It closely resembled an elephant from Earth, but in place of tusk and a trunk, there were three long, protruding horns. Suddenly, the creature spasmed; its limbs convulsed, shaking wildly, as it expelled a bright emerald ray of light. And just as quickly, it dissolved into sand of K283c.
“That’s a Brain. They only have temporary corporeal forms, but they possess the power to materialize a short-lived physical body. But when the body is injured beyond repair—because they can also repair themselves quickly—it disappears for an indeterminate time we don’t know, then they regenerate a new one and reappear. I fear we may lose this colony.”
Mary wondered: “So they disappear? Where do they go?”
“The best we can tell is that they renew and come back again and again. That’s why we can’t beat them. They have a never-ending supply of soldier bodies.” The Baron looked to her. “So, we are prepared to give you absolute free rein to find the most gifted soldiers.”
Finally, it all made sense. Finally, she understood why UIP would fly her all the way across the universe. Use last century’s enemy to fight this century’s monster.
Sister Amadeus stared at her, a slight smirk, which only Mary picked up on, spread across her face.
“You want me to train a psychic army?”
* * *
“The Baron lies.” It had taken everything in her to hold it together to walk her big ass out of that place. “He’s hiding something. Something big.” She ranted as she paced the lush, emerald meadow the two found on their walk back to the suite.
“How do you know he’s lying?”
“Haven’t you figured out yet that I see things deeper than other people? That I know things.” She stopped. “Like I know that you’re career UIP, but you aren’t stupid. And I can trust you. Otherwise, you’d be dead.” David made an effort not to respond, but she knew he had been shaken by her words. “But the Baron’s arrogant, and is planning to fuck me.”
“Why?”
“What do you know about the Battle of Yellow Star?”
David had been formally educated through UIP universal instruction, and while he liked to think he wasn’t a company man as she had accused and that he rejected much of UIP conditioning, still, he had to admit that he knew very little beyond the official UIP history of the Yellow Star battle. There was very little information to be found in historical archives.
“What everyone else knows, I suppose. That you had been traipsing the universe, from planet to planet, gathering soldiers, destroying worlds, even. I guess it could have been noble in some ways—so many of their policies of colonization were detrimental in those beginning days—but it seems like you just wanted to destroy the Coalition with no real plans on how to fix things.” Mary didn’t say anything, so he shrugged. “But it was half a century ago and before UIP had been established. . . You got all those people killed. You trained them, and they followed you across the universe just to drive a wagon into UIP capitol. Now, since you’re alive, I guess you sent others to their death while you hid on Yellow Star.”
“You little shit. Tell me, David, if advanced TachTravel has only been available for passenger and laymen travel for just over three decades, how was I using it forty-three years ago to move between worlds?”
The man didn’t respond because he couldn’t.
“Sit down, David.” He did as he was told, the green moss representing what passed for grass on this planet, sinking beneath his ass. “Evidence that UIP is full of shit and lying to me, is because everything they have taught you about me is also a lie. When the six greatest powers of the world got together to form the coalition for interstellar travel, they quickly decided that there were valuable people and there were others. Those people your government didn’t think were worth saving, people like mine. My mother was Black and wheelchair bound and unworthy. They thought they were leaving us there to die. Once they destroyed the atmosphere, they abandoned the planet, leaving us there.”
“I suspected.”
“Years after leaving, they sent a scout and found that we were thriving. David, I never traveled the universe collecting and training soldiers. Because I never left Yellow Star. The Coalition, the organization that you call UIP, brought the fight to me. They sent six ships full of soldiers to subdue and recolonize whatever groups remained.” She turned to find David appalled by her story.
“It’s true that I used my spiritual energy to plan, execute, and stop the reinvasion of Yellow Star. Don’t you understand? Many of us were minority and gifted. We were root workers, witches, and we carried historical knowledge passed down from our own ancestors. We serve great Gods on Earth now—as it always should have been. So, we used our collective power to protect ourselves and Yellow Star. My mother had lost her legs in the military, but she was also a witch and taught me everything she knew. I took what I learned from her, while I trained soldiers in the use of every firearm still available on that planet, just as my soldier father had taught me. I trained spiritual soldiers just as my mother and her and ancestral lineage had taught her. Once we had defeated every single man they sent to kill us, I used psychic interference to insure that no other UIP ship landed on Yellow Star. Now, my people and I both physically guard and psychically monitor all space surrounding Yellow Star.
“They knew this before they sent me?” She maintained eye contact with him but did not have to respond. He knew the answer; he was expendable. “How many ships have landed between the battle, over fifty years ago, and mine eight days ago?” He knew the answer to this also; none. “Then why did you allow mine to land? You knew I was coming? But how?” His last question could be best described as thinking out loud. He had so many questions, but Mary gave him time to work them out in his head. “Sister Amadeus. You’ve been in contact with her all these years.”
“Yes. And no. I knew her fifty years ago. I have not been in constant contact with her.”
“Then how?”
“Mother Amadeus is one of the original people to come back to Yellow Star forty years ago. The coalition had sent missionaries, mercenaries, and soldiers.”
“But how? I thought you destroyed everyone, and no other ships were allowed.”
“I said I killed every man, and no other ship landed. I never said none left. Mother Amadeus is one of three who boarded a ship a year later with the warning never to return. They sent other ships a few times, especially after TachTravel made it more efficient. But. . . ”
“You destroyed them?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not mine? If Mother Amadeus didn’t warn you?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? Here’s a better one. Who are these monsters?”
David looked intrigued. “Can you, you know, find out?”
CHAPTER 3: Possibilities
Asking Mary that question was the equivalent of taking out an old-fashioned stick of dynamite and setting it ablaze. Thus, for Mary, “find out” meant traveling to the No Zone to find the monsters.
The No Zone was on the other side of the globe. K283c was twice the size of Earth and its year-round (ninety-two days) temperatures were around 20.5 degrees Celsius aided by terraforming. This side of the planet had less light from its main star and was noticeably darker, while the atmosphere was thicker and heavier. Deep red sands replaced the lush, mossy emerald grasses on this side of the world. The shadow of an emerald moon, about the size of Original Earth, held a permanent position in the sky, perfectly placed, as if suspended by string. Sandy mountains lined the horizon instead of magnificent glass structures that had been erected 32,186.88 kilometers away.
The Baron had done everything that he could to try to convince Mary not to come. But Mary had assured him that she wouldn’t be alone since David would be accompanying her. The Baron aggressively tried to dissuade Mary, but she was rather persuasive in her own right and, since he had agreed to give her complete control over these matters, he finally relented. When the pair took their orders to check out the Tach conveyor that would get them to their destination in a fraction of the time, they were warned that no one had ever traveled to that part of the world alone and survived.
Mary told David to stay behind, to which he stood fast. “I’ve never lost anyone. And I won’t start with you, Mary, Queen of Wagons.”
The pair disembarked the conveyor onto a vast open land. As their feet touched the red, sandy dirt, the ground began to shift and move under their feet so that both lost their balance and struggled to maintain their standing positions. Under them, a large mound began to rise and David stumbled away to keep from being elevated high into the air. The conveyor slid backward picking up speed as the mound got higher and higher, finally coming to a stop nearly a full kilometer away. The height of the mound quickly passed Mary’s six-foot-two height, reaching a full ten feet before the sand and earth completely fell away revealing a large tripod-looking creature.
David reached for his assault rifle, aiming swiftly at the creature’s head.
Mary simply reached out her hand to stay her companion, touching his skin, bringing a calming sensation over him. Immediately his racing heart slowed down and he lowered his weapon. She needed him to remain calm. They didn’t have the high ground, and it would be unwise to provoke an enemy of this size and unlimited strength. Besides, that was not what they were there for.
In a massive show of strength clearly intended to impress them, the terrain around David and Mary began to convulse and shake as if a massive quake from the center of K283c was imploding. One by one, giant creatures in various sizes and shapes and colors rose to the surface showing themselves to Mary and David. Hundreds. Thousands.
By this point, the pair could no longer visually see the monsters appearing but they could hear the ground being violently disrupted as each of these beings emerged from their cocoons. In the center, the two were dwarfed, almost invisible from the outside. Mary waited, respectfully. She sensed that this show of strength was intentional. A full minute after the last creature had made itself known somewhere kilometers away in the distance, Mary extended her hands in the universal surrender gesture and walked to the first creature that had presented themselves to her.
“No. Wait! What are you doing?” David looked around, clearly uncomfortable.
“Calm down. No aggression, remember. No matter what happens, do not use your weapon. Do you understand?”
David nodded. Mary continued forward. The creature itself shifted but did not make an attempt to hurt Mary. When she reached a distance close enough to touch the creature, Mary nodded her head for permission, waited, then placed her dark hand on the flesh of the black creature.
Instantly, Mary was transported into another realm. As a spiritualist Mary understood what had happened, though it was always discombobulating to move through spiritual worlds. This new place was similar in appearance to K283c but was vivid and splendidly bright. It was the place that existed in direct parallel to K283c and was the more perfect version of it.
Each of the untold number of creatures that had presented themselves to her in the other plane of existence now stood before her in their true personification. Their sizes, shapes and colors were only limited by Mary’s imagination to perceive their greatness.
These were not monsters.
They were Gods!
Mary nodded, acknowledging their power and strength and maintained physical contact with the being. She knew the creature was her connection to this plane and that they had knowingly given her access. She showed an acceptable amount of gratitude without looking unnecessarily demure. The deities before her now brought her here, she was sure, because they also recognized the power within her.
On K283c, the human and Gods couldn’t communicate well with each other. However, on the parallel plane, words were unnecessary; intent and actions were the only form of currency. These deities, like her own, from her own world, only respected honor. She spoke using visual images and emotion: “They call me Mary.”
“We know who you are, Mary, Queen of Wagons. You exist either as a hero or a great enemy in the minds of the soldiers who have come here to exploit us.”
“These men are not my kin. They committed genocide against my people, murdered my world, and then left us to die on it.”
“We know. That’s why we called to you. We had to meet the woman who inspired such emotions in people such as these.”
Mary looked around at all the great beings before her, large and proud: “Are you the Gods of this land?”
If it was possible for a monster to cackle, then this one did. “We are the mothers, the sisters, the daughters, the guardians of the people of this land. But we hold no ownership over them; they are free beings. You know our ancestorial lineage through the deities of your land.” The images reflected in Mary’s mind had been calm, measured, but now they became loud and authoritative. “You know them by the names: Anahit, the mother of war; Julunggul, the rainbow serpent of life; Hārītī, both goddess and demon to her people; Oya, great mother of winds, lightning, storms, death, and rebirth.”
Mary listened patiently as thousands of monsters, all speaking at once, called out names of fallen Yellow Star deities that had been forgotten and abandoned. Mary didn’t know all the names, but she recognized at least one.
When they were finished, she spoke. “You named my mother.”
“Yes. She thrives on your planet when others have died. To abandon a God is murder. To force others to worship one God to gain power is a crime akin to death against the universe. It spreads disease. The universe is vast and varied, just like the Gods that reflect the needs of the people in that universe. Colonization of spirituality that happened on your planet is a travesty. We are sorry that it happened to you. We will not allow this to happen here.”
“What do you need from me? What can I do?”
“Your former oligarchs have a lot of money and a lot of power, but they lack spiritual intelligence. They’re dead inside. No matter how many messages they pump into their heads or the false idols they worship.”
“Yes. They value individuality but pride themselves on being the same. Their supremacy is their only legacy.”
“They don’t know who he is, you know.” The images and messages moved rapidly through her mind.
“I know.” She looked to David, who, in this space, appeared frozen, unmoving. “Tell me what to do.”
* * *
Jesus wept.
He wept for Lazarus of the bible, but he did not weep for UIP that day. They had abandoned His teachings long ago. The last death knells of the dying oligarch pounded loudly in Mary’s ears, drowning out that wretched continuous message: I am a humble delegate of the honorable descendants of Abraham, and chosen to fulfill the holy mission of the United Interplanetary Coalition.
She entered the Baron’s office, covered in a shroud and carrying a staff. Mary appreciated the dramatics of the old storybooks, so she’d played it up, enjoying her performance perhaps a bit too much. David followed behind, always at the ready. A group of locals, their various skin tones belying their second-class status on K283c, followed behind them.
The man sat at his desk amused by the display, staring down his spectacled nose at Mary. Sister Amadeus again stood behind him, her expression different, but unreadable to anyone who didn’t know her.
“What news do you bring?”
“I bring but one message, Baron.”
“Well, out with it, then.”
“Let the people of this land go, abandon your mission here, so that they may worship their own Gods in peace. If you refuse, I will plague every colony under your purview.”
The Baron did not laugh, as she expected. He did not, for a moment, reflect any emotion at all. “And why would UIP do this?”
Mary turned to David. The soldier walked over, took her staff, and dropped it on the desk. As it landed, the stiff outer wood of the scepter shifted and changed form, becoming slithery, turning into a large cobra; the head rising quickly to full height. The Baron scrambled to get out of his seat, unamused. From a safe distance away, he ordered soldiers to handle the beast. One of the men quickly put a bullet in the snake.
“Seriously?” Finally, the man laughed. “What did you think would happen?”
“You have no faith, Baron.”
“There is my faith, Mary, Queen of Wagons.” The Baron paused and pointed to the speakers as the words. . . and chosen to fulfill the holy mission of the United Interplanetary. . . filled the silence. “My god, UIP, is stronger than yours. You have stupid biblical magic tricks and empty wagons.”
Mary called over a little brown boy who placed a small box on the Baron’s desk. The serpent dead and removed, the Baron returned to his seat, taking the box to his ear.
“It’s a key. To the last Tach conveyor off this planet. Your soldiers have either been sent away or have chosen to stay.”
“What UIP soldier in their right mind would choose to stay on this godforsaken planet?”
David stepped forward. “Me. All the lies UIP taught, the death, the threats and indoctrination.”
“Fine. I will let them know you are an apostate suppressive, a chickenshit. You think they want a yellowbelly coward, a bastard who killed his mother during childbirth? Yes, we know all about you, David Wálé.” The Baron found pleasure in vile words.
“The only cowards here are UIP. Besides”—she looked to David, and her expression softened—“he’s my kin. He doesn’t know it, but he’s the son of the sister that UIP stole from us before abandoning Earth. Think about it, it’s the only reason I would let a ship land on Yellow Star. The Gods here knew that.” Mary looked quickly away from David so as not to get caught up in the feelings he didn’t know how to express.
“Congratulations on this fucked up family reunion, but that’s enough. Mary, why in this world would I. . . ” Before finishing, a young soldier burst in the doors, pausing only long enough to salute to Mary before handing the Baron an envelope. He opened it, read the contents, then looked past Mary, to the soldier, anger flashing in his eyes.
“As we speak there are 5,500 wagons rushing toward every major holy center on every major UIP-colonized world. They are manned by my will alone, and set to explode at my behest or if anyone tampers with them.”
“Why?”
“Liberty. You colonize and destroy. And your god has abandoned you because you have despoiled his message. Is this”—she pointed to the amplifier—“your God, Baron? What purpose does He serve? And to whom?” The man did not respond. “Every God on every planet of my lineage and everyone on every planet in this galaxy stand before you today as testament.
“Let the people in all UIP territories go and offer them safe travels to this planet or any other protected one outside of UIP’s reach.”
“What if they don’t want to go?”
“Harriett Tubman is said to have believed that she could have freed a thousand more slaves if they knew they were enslaved.” She paused. “They will come when they are ready, or they will stay in bondage.”
“UIP will never stand for this.”
“Then let them sit for it!” Anger flashed in her eyes at the thought of all the harm UIP had done throughout the centuries. “You are lucky, Baron, that all we want is freedom from you. With one thought, I will wipe UIP from existence. Right now, I am controlling the trigger of every one of those 5,500 wagons. I did it with one wagon forty-three years ago, and I will do it with 5,500 more, or 10,000 more. Or a million. Do you not think that with the power of all my Gods, I cannot do much worse?”
“You would kill all those people just to get what you want?”
“It’s worked for UIP all these centuries.”
The wheels in the Baron’s head were running but couldn’t find a way to fix this.
“Be smart. Leave this place, Baron. Advise UIP to not be foolish in their retaliation of apostates and wipe clean your hands and your memories of us, for if you want war, we will oblige you. Do you understand?”
The man nodded in defeat, stood to his feet, and turned to Sister Amadeus. The nun didn’t hesitate in her response. “I’m staying.”
As he walked out the giant doors for the last time, Mary called out to him: “We will prepare for your apostates. Here, they will be known simply as citizens. And UIP is dead to us. Be content with that.”