Greegs & Ladders, Zack Mitchell, Danny Mendlow [read with me .TXT] 📗

Hroon Again, this Time with the Dreaded Movie Police

“What can we do to pass the time?” asked Rip. This was a common question asked amongst immortals.

“What about discussing the current events?” I suggested.

“Pffft... current events,” muttered Rip distastefully. “Who can say what is current in this maddening reality of time-travelling wormholes?”

“It could be something interesting to do while we waited.”

“Don't mind him,” said Wilx. “One of the regular side-effects of space-travel, especially when combined with immortality and time-travel, is an irritating and alienating feeling that you are never quite up to date with the current events. To the immortal time-traveller, news is usually more often old than new, and it's always confusing and unfathomable. Nothing ever seems to be from your own time or consciousness anymore.”

“Let's give the current events a try, please?” I asked.

As Rip groaned over the prospect of current events, I turned on the tele-screen and set it to play the most popular news program in the universe. The latest episode of Flying Grimbat Messengers Present appeared in front of our weary, immortal faces. During our time the Grimbat species had elevated themselves from useless gossiper of the Planetglomerate to celebrated inter-universal news pundits.As the chief anchor prattled on about some highly strange news he proceeded to regularly flap his wings into the lighting equipment while accidentally thrashing his gnarled body against the cardboard backdrop. Flying Grimbats should really be called Perpetually Flying Grimbats, as they can never stop flying or they die. This unfortunate condition does not mix well with attempting to contain oneself within the cramped space of a news desk, especially when one is the size of a triplet of giant vampire-bats with 3 sets of pterodactyl wings. Due to the budgetary problem of having to rebuild the set after every broadcast, the network unsuccessfully attempted to replace the Grimbats, who, because they found all the best scoops, always got final say about delivering their own news. When the cost of replacing destroyed equipment pushed the program to the brink of cancellation, someone at last had the revelation to merely do away with the generic indoor news-desk scene (which most people were sick of anyway) and instead film the Grimbats talking out in some open field where they were free to fly around. The news was also only shot in the daytime when no artificial lighting was required. After this transition in the show there was a slight drop in the percentage of viewers. It was always suspected that a group of people only watched the show for the comedic slapstick element of a Grimbat destroying a film set.

An intriguing headline suddenly appeared on the screen. It read:

“Scientists, Rational Thinkers Everywhere Baffled by Discovery of Very Old Spaceship at the Bottom of Hroon Ocean.”

“So... where are we anyway?” asked Rip.

“Ssh! I want to hear this!” I said as I turned up the volume. Rip and Wilx both quieted down as the Grimbat anchor delved into a strange tale of which we were completely responsible:

On the water-planet of Hroon, an ancient and priceless Obotron spaceship has been discovered relatively intact on the ocean floor. It appears the ship has been residing at the bottom of the South Ocean for the last several thousand years. As no missing reports for the ship were ever filed, it's origin remains a total mystery. Scientists were eager to discover what secrets of the past would be contained within this sunken time capsule, so a mission to resurface the ship was immediately put into action. A great collective shock was had when it was discovered within the ship were hundreds of specters roaming about. It is clear these specters are what remains of the staff and crew.

“Hey,” said Rip, “why don't we make a detour at Hroon? Go see what our old crew is up to these days. It's not often that one of our lost ships turns up.”

“It's never happened,” said Wilx. “Not even so much as a mangled license plate has ever resurfaced from the unthinkable voids that our ships have been cast into.”

“Exactly,” said Rip. “We should check it out.”

“Why do you suddenly care about the lost crew?” asked Wilx.

“Maybe I'm trying to rectify some of the horrible things I've done.”

“I think you're just starting to dread the fact that you're on your way to collect deadly Crabbits from an even deadlier shape-shifting planet.”

“You know me well,” said Rip.

“Yes,” replied Wilx. “However I also would like to procrastinate this foreboding task. We will once more visit the water-planet of Hroon. Might as well... it's on the way to Grebular.”

We had the ship make an unscheduled stop. When we arrived at Hroon the scene was a state of complete chaos. Countless visiting ships filled with reporters, scientists and generally nosey folk were parked in orbit. Down on the surface, an epic hovering stage and seating arena for millions had been constructed for the purpose of a universally broadcast press-conference with the specters. The show was about to begin.

For reasons we did not at all understand, the finding of our Obotron ship was a very big deal. We were likely experiencing Rip's 'current-event syndrome,' a total confusion of the grand picture caused by wild and continuous leaping about through time and space. Thousands of years had passed. The finding of this ship was likely as exciting, bewildering and important as the feeling felt by humans when they first discovered dinosaur bones or the tomb of King Tut, or those dead scrolls. That or the standards of what is deemed groundbreaking or newsworthy had been drastically reduced to nothing in this particular part of this particular universe.

We left the ship floating in the water, parked far away from any visible congregation of sketchy spider-like creatures and found ourselves a few discreet seats in the back row. Worried about being recognized, Rip was now wearing an incredibly poor Specter costume that he had just minutes ago fastened together from various junk that was lying around in the broom closet. The specter costume wasn't much better than the generic human costume for a ghost, consisting of a white sheet draped over one's head with a few eye holes cut into it, depending on how many eyes one has. In his gait, Rip even attempted to imitate the ethereal sliding motion of a Specter's movement, but only succeeded in looking like a lunatic or something performing a 'silly walk' sketch.

“Why are there seat-belts on the chairs?” I asked. “Is this whole platform going to start flying around?”

“I would put that seat-belt on right away,” said Wilx. “Or the force of the wind might whip you right out of your chair.”

Just as Wilx said that, a nearby creature who had neglected to put on his seat-belt was suddenly launched several hundred feet straight up into the air as if pulled by a rope. The creature yelled a surprised and sustained “Whoa!” as he uselessly flailed. The “Whoa!” could be heard echoed long after the creature vanished into the clouds. This now-famous final last word happened to be recorded by a lucky sound-technician with a top-notch recording device, who in turn sold the sound effect to a major film studio, who in turn used the sound-effect over and over in thousands of well-known blockbuster movies, making it the staple, 'go-to' sound-file for any time a character needs to yell “Whoa!” in surprise. It has been used in more movies than the legendary Wilhelm Scream.

Suddenly an alarm announced the Specter-Grimbat press-conference was about to begin. Everyone in the seating area quieted down as an important-looking Grimbat approached a podium. No one onstage could be seen by most of the audience (considering the amount of seats in the seating area ranked in the millions) so their images were displayed on a backdrop screen roughly the size of 23 combined IMAX screens.

“What is your name?” asked the important-looking Grimbat to the specter that was currently on stage

“Janet.”

“And what did you do aboard this ship?”

“I was a lowly room attendant. It was my job to fold linens for the guests.”

“So your ship was a housing vessel of sorts?”

“Yes, except we never had any actual guests.”

“Not very popular with the cruise market, were you?” asked the reporter.

“Our whole fleet of ships had been assembled merely to enhance the status image of the leaders who occupied Obotron 1, our primary fleet ship.”

“So your leaders were great at wasting resources?”

“Yes.”

“Who were your leaders?”

“There was a Dr. Rip T. Brash the Third, and his sidekick the Astrospeciologist Wilx. They had with them a reformed Greeg they called Krimshaw. We have come to know their names and faces well. And to loathe them.”

“Interesting. Why did your leaders bring you to Hroon?”

“We don't know. Our ship was programmed to fly wherever the leaders wanted. We were rarely in contact with them and weren't allowed to ask questions about our mission if we were.”

“And what exactly caused your ship to sink?”

“The hurricane wind force of the Hroon atmosphere threw our ship into a 100 foot tidal wave. The ship remained intact, but the engines died when fuel tanks of Investment Banker were flooded with ruinous sea-water. As dead weight we sank into the abyss.”

“Exciting,” said the reporter. “Did you see any monsters? There are supposed to be a lot of them swimming around in the Hroon Ocean.”

Janet didn't answer this question, but the frightened look upon her face suggested she had seen her share of ocean monsters. The reporter moved on.

“How long were you alive at the bottom of the ocean?”

“It varies,” said Janet. “I only lasted about 9 years, but some of the other specters will brag about lasting nearly 5 decades.”

“Wow,” said the reporter. “Even 9 years is incredible. I can't fathom anyone surviving in that environment for up to 50 years. How did you not perish right after the sinking?”

“We were lucky to have certain educational survival literature stored within the ship. Two books that were of particular use were entitled 'Cannibalizing Your Crew After Sinking in an Alien Ocean' by Horaticus Neil Travensenzel, and 'How to Have a Long Life, Volume 219: Maximizing Your Use of Airlocks While Shipwrecked at the Bottom of an Alien Ocean.' We also had a collection of VHS tapes with a copy of 'The Poseidon Adventure.' We took great inspiration from the courageous exploits of those characters.”

“VHS tapes?” asked the reporter.

“They were a method of watching movies. Do you still have movies?” asked Janet.

“Yes. But jumpies are more popular. They're more realistic.”

“Oh,” said Janet.

“Why did you not transcend into the dimension of the dead? Why did you remain on Hroon in your spectral state?”

“We have been prisoners of the Limbo Projection Mode.”

“Refresh my mind on what the Limbo Projection Mode is,” said the Reporter. “Try to remember that everything from your life became obsolete thousands of years ago.”

“The Limbo Projection Mode was a powerful method of trapping someone in a spaceship. Say somebody stole your ship, the on-board computer would automatically recognize the intruder and thus enter a state of Limbo Projection, an existence in which exit from the ship is completely impossible under any circumstance. Then all you'd have to do is find your ship and you'd have a pre-captured criminal.”

“Why did the ship go into this Limbo mode? The ship was not stolen, you are the rightful crew, am I correct?”

“There was a malfunction, probably during one of the monster attacks. The computer entered an unprecedented high state of Limbo, causing the system to affect not only living creatures, as it is supposed to, but to also have the power of trapping specters, spirits, elementals and other non-living entities.”

“After all these thousands