Gate Into Danger

Gate Into Danger

Mark A Davis

243

Grandpa Anarchy and his current sidekick F8Wasp (pronounced Fate Wasp) stood on the floor of a massive room, a kind of warehouse crossed with an underground bunker.   Scientists in white lab coats and military people in black fatigues were everywhere.  Behind and above them, a NASA-like command center monitored every aspect of the operation.  The focus of everyone's attention was in front of them:  the far wall was dominated by a dimensional gateway -- a giant circle of carved metal, with strange symbols at different locations around the outer perimeter, like some alien clock with no hands.  The center was a liquid blue surface, like a pool turned sideways.  Soldiers with weapons at the ready guarded the perimeter of the room.

The air was chill.  The place smelled of grease and ozone.  A computerized countdown could be heard over loudspeakers, echoing and re-echoing from the walls until it was barely intelligible.  Below it was a hum of multiple conversations, also rendered as near-gibberish in the massive room.  Metal clanked.  Machines whirred.

Grandpa wore his usual rumpled gray suit with the silver Anarchy symbol stitched over the left breast.  His sidekick, a young woman with long black hair, wore a sleek, form-fitting outfit in silver and black.

F8Wasp said, "So the government has an Einstein-Rosen Bridge device...."

"A  dimensional gate," said Grandpa.

"Right," said F8Wasp, "and they keep it underground in a secret military installation in the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado Springs, CO...."

"Where all the best top secret military organizations are located," said Grandpa.  "NORAD, USNORTHCOM, DSL, SCIMITAR, TASSET... and, of course, DGC -- Dimensional Gate Command.  And I'm one of the people they occasionally call for help.  I swear, every secret government organization in existence has my number on speed dial...."

"But Grandpa," said F8Wasp, "isn't this dimensional gate exactly like the one in your basem...."

Grandpa clamped a hand over the sidekick's mouth.  "Shhhhhh!" he hissed.  "Nobody knows about that!  They think they have the only one!  You tell them that and next thing you know my mansion will be crawling with military guys!"

Six people approached them.  The first was a clean-cut, square-jawed man in his fourties.  The insignia on his left chest and cap made it clear that he was an Air Force Colonel.  The second man was thinner, balding, wore glasses, and had the open and perpetually-searching look of a scientist.  The third person, a woman with short blonde hair, was by her insignia an Air Force Captain.  The other three were armed soldiers.

Grandpa grasped the colonel's hand.  "Colonel Neil L. Jackson!" he exclaimed.  "And Professor Mikail Siyankov, and Captain Sarah Tapatio!  So good to see you all again!"

"Grandpa Anarchy!" the colonel exclaimed.  "And... F8Wasp, is it?  I'm glad you could come!"

"Always happy to help out the U.S. Government," said Grandpa.  "I understand you've got an alien god problem?"

"That's an understatement," said the colonel.  "He's impervious to bullets and has captured several of my men.  We tried calling the Archons, but...."

"But you got their voice message saying they can't come to the phone," Grandpa replied.  "Happens all the time.  Those guys are always out gallavanting around the galaxy when you really need them back here on earth."

"So," said the colonel, "are you ready to punch an alien god?"

"Colonel," said Grandpa, "punching pretend gods is something I was born to do!"

Orders to clear the floor were barked over the loudspeakers.  The outer rings of the dimensional gate began to spin and the chevrons clanked into place, locking in the specific glyphs required to dial in the destination gate.  Grandpa said, "You know, Kid Calculus does all of this with just a little floating computer pad thingy."

The gate opened.  Grandpa, F8Wasp, and the six members of the DGC passed through the gateway and into another land.

Rolling hills of yellow grass greeted them.  A stone path led away from the dimensional gate.  In the distance could be seen a village by the side of a lake, with a large building complex on a nearby hill.

"The god we're dealing with is Hasameli, Hittite god of metalworkers and craftsmen," said the scientist Mikail.  "He's associated with smoke.  That's his  temple on the hill."

"Hasameli?" Grandpa said.  "I've tangled with him before.  He's a good fighter.  I like a god that can take a punch -- makes the fight more interesting."

As they approached the temple it was clear something was new.  Seated on the top steps was a muscular humanoid with the face of a monkey, dressed in aqua silks and gold armor.  He held a large black staff banded with gold.  This was unmistakably Sun Wukong the Monkey King, and his staff Ruyi Jingu Bang -- no other human or primate looked anything like him.  He was a member of the Archons of Excellence, and if you weren't convinced at first sight of him, a bronze human stood next to him -- what looked like a California surfer cast in the copper alloy.  This was the Bronze Beach Bum -- another person who was recognizable on sight.

"Grandpa Anarchy, atlevey!" Sun Wukong called out.

"Atlevey my drooks!" the Bronze Beach Bum added.

As they climbed the steps, the other members of the Archons appeared -- Dread to Rights, who was a powerfully-muscled Jamaican with long dreadlocks; Atlacoya, known as the Old Boy's Club, a buxom alien woman with green skin and blue hair who wielded a massive crystal club and typically dressed like Betty Page; and the leader of the group, Popeye Khan, who most often looked like Elvis Presley's double -- the young Elvis Presley, but dressed in the rhinestone-studded white jumpsuit typical of his Las Vegas days.

"Popeye?" Grandpa asked.  "What are you doing here?"

"Well," said Popeye, "we were out in our ship when we got an alarm on the emergency space beacon.  We were just a few star systems away, so we hopped on over and took on this here god Hasemeti.  You missed all the fireworks, Son!  We had a battle royale for a New York minute, but he's all defeated and tied up and awaiting extradition."



Six hours later, Grandpa Anarchy was in the Anarchy Cave below his mansion.  With him was F8Wasp and a holographic image of what appeared to be a Victorian-era librarian, complete with glasses and hair tied into a bun.  This was the representation of Annie Two, the new, self-aware Anarchy Computer Mark 2.

Before them was a familiar sight -- a giant dimensional gate with an aqua-blue liquid center, like a sideways pool.  The outer rim was spinning, and chevrons were clanking into place.

"Grandpa," said F8Wasp, "you can't just break in to U.S. military computers and steal their star maps.  That's espionage.  That's treason."

"'Course it ain't," Grandpa replied.  "'Sides, we've already done it, and we ain't gonna get caught.  Annie Two knows what she's doing.  The important thing is that this star map gives the coordinates to hundreds of dimensional gates spread across the galaxy, and most of 'em have aliens posing as gods on the other end.  I don't care if it's Ra, Hermes, Baldr, Tapio, Arawn, Ptah, Ozain....  These gods are a dime a dozen.  But I was promised the chance to punch an alien god, and come hell or high water, I'm going to do it, or my name isn't Grandpa Anarchy!"

FINI