3 Worlds Without End
Zens twisted the dials on the methimium ray and pressed a button. The machine hummed and a shaft of golden light sprang from an aperture in the ray’s oblong metal housing. The ray bathed the far lab wall in shimmering gold light. Zens’ heart crashed and disappointment knifed through him. A blank wall, again.
Zens flipped open a panel on the side of the ray and used the keypad to enter a new sequence of code. Nothing but the light’s golden glow. “Well, 000, that didn’t help much.”
The tharuk, always at his side, grunted.
He’d been recalibrating and adjusting the ray for months. He would’ve given up by now, except that he’d seen Professor Flannery’s memories and the worlds he’d visited using this ray. Zens sat back and sighed. If he hadn’t killed Flannery, perhaps he could’ve used him to access the portal, but humans were so difficult to manage. Anyway, he had the next best thing.
Zens closed his eyes and delved deep into his mind, dredging up Flannery’s memories, examining them from every angle.
Hang on, what was that?
As Flannery entered the sequence on the keypad to activate the ray, his wrist bumped a slightly-raised patch of metal at the base of the keypad. Zens zoomed in and ran through the professor’s next memory. When the professor entered another code, he brushed that tiny button again. Brilliant—the guy had built in an unobtrusive locking mechanism, activated so subtly that any observers of a demonstration wouldn’t notice.
Zens tapped the button and entered a code. This time, the machine hummed and the yellow light appeared. A black swirling mass coalesced over the wall. Pinpoints of light shone through the swirling fog. Zens blinked and rubbed his eyes. The light didn’t vanish—not tiredness then.
The dark portal grew until it was big enough for several people to step though. Zens gasped. “000, this is it. We’ll create our dragon army and rule both worlds.”
Dark saliva ran off his furry firstborn’s tusks.
Through a gaping hole in the wall, a cityscape awaited. “Come on, 000, let’s go.” Zens stepped through the portal with his tharuk. They found themselves on top of a tall building, their faces covered by masks.
Arching highways of colored light crisscrossed the sky and dipped between skyscrapers glittering with bright lights. Streams of traffic coursed along those highways—one-seater crafts shaped like silver cigars, passenger-filled disks that hurtled along at breakneck speed, box-like contraptions of sleek red and gold metal. Tiny colored blimps darted between them like bees. Beyond the city were undulating the red hills pockmarked with steaming craters bathed in the light from three orange moons.
A formation of winged humanoid robots swooped over them in a huge arc. A dark-green robot broke off from the formation and plummeted toward him and 000. Activating reverse thrusters on its back, the robot descended vertically to hover in front of them, its metal carapace gleaming. Beams sprang from its eye-sockets roving over them from head to foot. Artificial intelligence, then. This was no human being in a suit.
“What is your business on Xoltonar?” An aperture opened in the robot’s chest. Rods extended from it, attaching to Zens’ neck, skull and chest. Zens tugged gently, but the rods wouldn’t budge. “Do not resist. Please answer.” More rods flew out and attached to 000.
The robot was using sensors to monitor their vital signs—an advanced lie detector.
Zens told the truth. “We are merely here for observation.” He could learn something from this machine.
“How did you travel here? You do not have a permit.”
“I am experimenting with inter-world travel via a portal.” He waved at the dark hole gaping to the side of them and caught a glimpse of his own laboratory back on Earth in 2050.
“Which planet have you come from?”
“Earth, a planet in a solar system in an outer spiral arm of the Milky Way Galax—”
A formation of red flying robots zipped past and opened fire, ray guns blazing. The green robot detached and spun, fire shooting from its rods. A red’s blast sizzled through the air and hit the green’s hip and wing.
Smoke poured from the robot’s side and it crashed to the roof of the building. As the red robots flew off, an alarm issued from the prone robot’s chest. It hit a button and chemical foam spurted from its rods, drenching its hip and extinguishing the fire. “I cannot fly to the dock for repairs,” it said.
Zens knelt by the robot. “If you give me your blueprint, I’ll repair you.” Finding out what made a robot from an alien planet tick was an opportunity too rare to miss.
The robot nodded.
Zens spun to his tharuk. “000, quick, grab my tools.” He gestured at the portal, which was shrinking, the sides crumbling in on their glimpse of the lab. “Quick.”
In moments, 000 was back through the portal with Zens’ tool kit.
A panel slid open on the robot’s chest, revealing a fascinating blueprint on a screen. Diagnostics showed on the screen, then a tutorial flashed up, showing Zens the repair steps. He pulled out his electronic calibration equipment and a few old-fashioned screwdrivers and set to work.
A rogue red robot dived at them. Without thinking, Zens thrust out a hand. The robot careened into the building, smashing into shards as Zens turned back to his work.
“I thank you for your kindness.” A rod extended from the green robot’s arm, holding a scalpel that sliced the skin inside Zens’ wrist. The robot inserted a clear sliver under Zens’ skin and sealed it with skin glue. “If you are ever in need, please open your portal and call me on Xoltonar via this communicator. It works from anywhere in this universe.”
“Thank you.” Knowing an armed flying robot could come in handy.
The portal’s edges wavering, Zens and 000 dashed back through to Earth.
Zens combed over the only memory he could access of Professor Flannery visiting the world with dragons, but the code the professor typed into the keypad was obscured. He tried delving deeper into the memory, but it was no use. Over the past few weeks, Zens and 000 had experimented, testing many code sequences in a methodical manner while searching for dragons.
Zens entered the next sequence in the batch they were testing today.
The ray shone on the wall and the fog swirled, parting to reveal hundreds of stone masons wearing rags and chipping away at a giant rocky edifice squatting in the middle of a verdant valley. The masons leaned into their work, fastened to the giant rock face by primitive ropes or chains mounted on rickety wooden structures hammered into the stone. Some sculpted fan-shaped appendages that hung over either side of the rock—giant wings, Zens realized. Others were carving fine scales onto a broad chest, spiny back and three reptilian heads.
Zens inhaled, breath hissing.
000 spoke via telepathy. “There’s your dragon, my master, a three-headed one.”
“We don’t need a stone dragon, 000. We need a live one.” He couldn’t create a live dragon out of stone. Even his DNA manipulation had limits.
A crack rang out. A flock of yellow birds with red heads and orange wingtips squawked, flapping from the bushes at the edge of the valley into the sky. Another crack sliced the air—and also cracked the skin on the back of a snoozing stone mason. A hulking brute towered over the bleeding man, grinning. He raised his whip again and yelled something indecipherable.
Zens glanced up. Two moons were barely visible in the bright sunny sky. Definitely not Earth, then.
More men stepped forward, wielding whips, and struck the tattered workers, making them hurry.
Zens scratched his chin. Whipping was an effective strategy for speeding up productivity. The tip of a whip struck the ground near Zens’ foot. As much as he approved of the tactic, he’d prefer it wasn’t turned on him. Zens and 000 leaped back through the portal to the safety of the laboratory.
The next day, Zens and 000 stumbled into a vast desert on yet another world. Their feet sunk into tangerine sand under a relentless blazing sun—a land of stark beauty with undulating dunes and scorching air that seared Zens’ lungs. There were no humans here, no other species—plant or animal—nothing to clutter this perfect land of blazing heat.
“Look, dragons.” 000 pointed to the sky.
Probably a desert mirage. Zens ignored his tharuk, dragging it back through the portal, his skin searing and blistered, and retreated to his lab to lick his wounds.
Another day, they happened upon a misty village with primitive thatched roofs. Marauders on horseback charged out of the fog between the hovels. One marauder passed so close to Zens, he saw the hairs in the enormous horse’s nostrils. Screams pierced the sky as the marauder tossed a burning torch on to the thatch of a nearby hovel. The roof caught, flames ripping through the house and sparking to the next home. Soon, the village was ablaze. Occupants screamed and ran out into the dirt.
A tiny girl fell at Zens’ feet, hanging onto his legs. She sobbed, turning her tear-stained face up to Zens, her brown eyes pleading as she ruined his spotless trousers.
“Girl. Have you seen any dragons?” He forced the mental image of a flaming dragon into her head.
Wide-eyed, the girl recoiled, shaking her head.
Zens barked, “000, dispatch her.”
The tharuk waded through the mud, raked its claws across the girls’ throat, and dropped her in the mud.
Her blood pooled in the imprint of the giant horse’s hoof—a nasty reminder of Zens’ own blood as a child and the way he’d pleaded when his own father had beaten him. Zens wrinkled his nose. “000, do something about her stench.”
000 threw the girl’s body into the burning flames.
Zens stalked back through the portal to his laboratory, grimacing at the mud and blood splattered on his trousers and fine boots.