To begin with, I must make it perfectly clear that when I say that I was in Asia Minor, that it is not to be misread as a confession that I was in an Asian minor. This clarification has become an unfortunate necessity due to the actions of certain obsessed and insanely-jealous persons (well, one anyway) who have intentionally presented these memoirs incorrectly in an ongoing attempt to manipulate the morass of uneducated plebeians into a frenzy of outrage against me. Be assured, the individual responsible for this outrage shall reap the consequences of his actions in due course.
That being said, we may now proceed.
I came to Asia Minor in the 12th Century BCE (give or take a hundred years) as part of a research programme. I found myself in the Greek army encampment at the ongoing siege of Troy. Now, upon seeing me arrive in a flash of the bright orange and blue Algolitish energy powering my Time/Space travel-sphere, the Greeks quite naturally took me to be a manifestation of their supreme god, Zeus (although they did comment that I looked much more like Apollo, the god of male beauty), and began to entreat me with supplications to aid them in defeating their Trojan enemies.
Of course, I demurred in this. My mission was one of peaceful historic research, and it is against the first law of all competent Time travellers to do anything to interfere with the proper course of history. My refusal only angered the Greeks, with their commander Agamemnon declaring that if I did not aid them, I was certainly not actually a god and would be executed immediately as a spy in their camp. The warrior Achilles, already angered at the commander due to a dispute over a girl, opposed him in this, and their resultant argument gave me a few days leeway in order to come up with a solution.
It was then that I conceived a cunning plan, utilising intelligence and stealth rather than brute force, which would result in the Greeks achieving victory. It was a hollow wooden horse that hid the Grecian soldiers (along with myself, I might add), which was then left at the gates of Troy. The Trojans were convinced it was a gift to the goddess Athena and dragged the horse inside, resulting in their defeat.
Following this, along with some further adventures I had with a particularly-attractive young lady named Helen, I returned to my usual assignment in a certain present day city. I arrived in the Federal Hill neighbourhood, just south of the City Harbour, clad in my usual outfit including a ruffled poet shirt and velvet jacket.
(This was in the days before I met my wonderful Millie Drake.)
Upon my full materialisation, the first thing I noticed was that a strange haze of a sickly yellowish hue had settled over the city. It was something beyond the usual effects of weather or pollution, and I immediately saw it as something alien. I took the transonic turn-screw, a technologically-advanced device resembling a multicoloured writing instrument, from my pocket and attempted to analyse the haze.
"By the Triple Star!” I swore to myself. “This haze has affected the transonic itself so that it cannot be analyzed. Definitely alien then, and there is indeed something horridly familiar about it. I wonder…”
By now, I had walked several blocks and had noticed something else very odd. I had not as yet seen one single person. The city appeared to be deserted! …
My name is RUMANOS -- DOCTOR DANIEL RUMANOS, Intergalactic Man of Mystery. Even though I have the physical appearance of an human being, I am in fact several thousand years old and do carry within my blood the vastly superior genes of the legendary Watchers of the Daemon-Star ALGOL -- the most intellectually-advanced race in all of the known galaxies, whose technology is so sophisticated it often appears as “magic” to lesser beings.
Whilst most Algolites live in elitist seclusion from the rest of the Universe, I am an Operative for a secret organisation known as the KOSMIKOS, tasked with maintaining peace and order throughout the farthest reaches of Space and Time.
Currently assigned to Planet Earth, I protect its people from the hideous manipulations of the arch-villain known as Master Wingus, as well as alien invasion, mad scientists, and indeed all manner of menace. I am the living icon of Algol upon this world. I am -- THE DAEMON-STAR!!! …
I continued to wander the area, looking for signs of life. The only sound was the cry of seagulls from the near-by harbour.
“What could have happened?” I asked myself. “What could have led to the city being abandoned like this? And what is the source of this odd haze?”
Then I saw someone down at the end of the street; the first human being I had encountered since returning to the city. It was a girl, very young and very pretty, with rich chestnut hair and eyes like sapphires. She was wearing a simple cream-coloured blouse and a blue skirt decorated with a white flower motif.
“Be not afraid, love,” I assured her. “I will do you no harm. My name is Dr. Daniel Rumanos.”
“‘Doctor’?” enquired the girl. “Are you a paediatrician?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“Good!” she beamed. “I can trust you then. My name is Annette. Annette Draper”
“Pleased to meet you, Annette Draper,” I bowed. “But pray tell, what brings you to being all alone here in the city?”
“I don’t know what happened. I had slept late, because mama had given me benedryl for my pollen allergies, and my family were gone when I got up. Even my phone wouldn’t work!”
“Interesting,” I pondered. “Perhaps the drug, along with the effects of your allergic system, neutralised whatever it was that led everyone else to flee the city.”
“So everybody else is gone?” she enquired with tears in her sweet eyes. “Mama and daddy? My brother and two sisters?”
“I am certain they are all right, Annette,” I attempted to reassure her. “There are no signs of violence here. Something just made them leave. Something that I think has also disabled all near-by electronic devices, including your telephone. I believe it was something about this haze. It is certainly unnatural -- at least for this world!”
It was then that I detected movement from two blocks away from us, about the farthest anything could be perceived with any clarity through the eldritch haze. When I saw what had made that movement, I put my hand over the girl’s mouth to stifle her scream and pulled her close to me.
There were three of them. The things were each about the size of an human torso, but that is where any resemblance to sane creation ended. They were hovering about a meter from the ground and looked like masses of tendrils made up of sallow squamous flesh intermingled with strands of metallic material. From deep within them glowed two horridly black, slanted eyes from which shone a look of abject and unholy hatred. To my horror, I recognised them immediately.
“Doctor,” whispered Annette whilst she clung to me for protection. “What are those things?”
“Something I had hoped I would never see again,” I told her. “They are Mutations of Mynverkoss!”
The hideous Mutations moved closer to us. Their horribly hateful gaze was scrutinising the streets for any sign of inhabitants. Fortunately, they had not as yet seen us, and the girl and I quickly ducked behind the comparative safety of a panel-truck.
“Of course,” I continued quietly. “This haze is a type of Mynverkossian swamp-gas. It has certain psyche-mentalist properties, inducing paranoia. They have used it to clear the city. But why?”
“What did you call them?” Annette whispered, her voice trembling with fear. “Mutants of what?”
“Mutations of the planet Mynverkoss or Manverkoss, depending upon the transliteration parameters. They are from a world far, far away from yours, a planet torn by generations of nuclear war between their ancestors, the Mynver, and another race on their world called the Verkoss. The war led to the Mynver becoming hideous mutations, as you can see, only remaining mobile by integrating strands of computerised technology into their bodily systems. Nevertheless, even this is nothing compared to what the long war did to their psychology. They are creatures of pure ethnic hate, fascist dictators convinced that they are the supreme race in all the Universe, sworn to enslave or eliminate all other life-forms.”
“And you’ve met them before, Doctor?” queried the girl.
“Yes, well, it is kind of hard to explain,” I said. “You see, I am kind of a traveller, you see, and I have been to their planet, Mynverkoss. Now, I know that may be difficult for you to accept, but… ”
“I believe you,” she answered. “For some reason, I believe you.”
“But I was on Mynverkoss a million years in the future. The Mutations had degenerated into a comparatively small group clustered in their city. Perhaps that is because the more advanced among them had left the planet, having developed Space-travel. Yes, there are legends in the archives of the Watchers of Algol -- my own people -- about Mynverkossian spacecraft. Oy vey -- they must have one parked near here!”
Just then, I noticed an human being approaching the horrid Mutations. It was a middle-aged man with brown hair, bearded and with a sickly pale complexion, dressed in fashionably-torn jeans and a T-shirt advertising some 1980s alternative rock band.
“Hey,” said Annette, “it’s Peter Ainley, the guy that owns that store, The Record Cave.”
I had heard of this establishment, a small shop in the neighbourhood selling old vinyl LP recordings -- the sort of thing that should in stead be available at thrift shops for a few pennies -- at ridiculously-high prices to the local “hipster” crowd.
The Mutation that seemed to be leading the others approached closest to Ainley.
“Report,” it said in its grotesquely harsh and hideously distorted voice.
“Everything is ready at the store,” replied Peter Ainley. “Nobody else is around. The city has been deserted because of the effect your haze had on them. I would’ve got it too if you hadn’t conditioned me. There are some things about it on the TV news, but the mayor and city council can’t take any action since they can’t meet in their jurisdiction. Same with the cops. They’re trying to petition Governor Harry Logan to declare a state of emergency, but as usual he ignores anything about the city.”
“All is then prepared to begin our operations,” declared the Mynverkoss Mutation. “We will begin our mining of the core of the planet. The magnetic engine we have assembled will then be installed.”
“And you will really make the Earth into a giant spaceship?” enquired Ainley. “You will take me with you when you use it to take over and rule all other planets?”
“Yes, but remember that you are only a servant of the Mynver,” announced the Mutation. “We are now the rulers of Earth, and we will be the supreme rulers of the Universe!”
“I am your servant,” agreed Ainley. “I obey you in all things.”
With this, the Mutations turned and glided down the street to continue their patrol, whilst Peter Ainley began to walk the other direction, back to his record shop.
“Of course!” I exclaimed. “The Record Cave is so named because, according to local lore, it is built over a natural fissure in the earth that is said to lead to the very centre of the planet! I had meant to explore it some day, but really I had thought it was just an old folktale… ”
“But now these Mutations are using it?” asked the girl.
“So it appears. Incredible! They actually intend to turn Earth into a gigantic spaceship, and then use it to conquer the Universe!”
“Is there a way to stop them, Doctor?” enquired Annette.
“Of course there is, love!” I assured her. “There is always a way. The only real work is in finding it. To begin with, I think an investigation of this Ainley chap’s record shop is in order.”
“Let’s go do it then,” smiled the lass.
“Yes, well, I suppose it would not be safe to leave you alone,” I agreed. “So, come along, my dear, come along.”
The young lady took my hand and we walked to-ward the way I had noticed Peter Ainley starting. We were careful to stay somewhat hidden, in case there any other Mynver patrolling the city. Nevertheless, we encountered no obstructions until we came to the shop. A badly hand-painted sign in the window proclaimed “THE RECORD CAVE: Wax Tracks from the Vinyl Frontier”.
“Typical hipster piss-artistry,” I muttered. “The door is locked.”
“Maybe that Ainley guy has a back entrance,” offered the girl.
“It seems likely,” I agreed. “But I can houdinise this lock easily enough, and we can have a look around.”
“’Houdinise’?” queried Annette with a giggle.
“Yes. The technique is named after an old colleague of mine in the field of escapist entertainment, you see. We both…”
My words were then interrupted by a particularly horrid sound. It was an hideous croaking noise that shook the very pavement. Annette and I quickly turned around and the damsel screamed in terror at what we beheld coming up the street to-wards us. It was an huge toad-like monstrosity, about fifteen feet in height and of a grotesquely-yellowish hue. It had the same black, hatefully-narrow eyes as the Mynver.
“Oh, no… ” I exclaimed, recognising the monstrosity as a mutated animal indigenous to the radioactive swamps of the planet Mynverkoss. “It is the Schermynnor!”
Do you perceive the horror, the abject phantasmagorical terror of this situation, my dear friends? Forsooth, you should hope and pray that you do not, for such knowledge could send you screaming into unending paroxysms of supreme ungodly fear!
I moved forward quickly to shield Annette from this horror, the Schermynnor, that gigantic toad-like monstrosity from the planet of the Mutations.
The hideous Schermynnor viewed me warily with its grotesque ebon eyes, and then let forth with another of its gruesome croaking sounds. It obviously had been somewhat “programmed”, that is, genetically-altered to fulfil the task of guarding the lair of its Mynver masters.
I concentrated deeply, ignoring the revulsion that the close proximity of this creature would bring to any sane being. I waiting until the giant toad moved just a bit closer to me, until it once again opened its horrendous mouth.
I raised my hands and sent forth a burst of energy, the result of my advanced practice of Daemonian self-defence, the true Algolitish reality of what is known as “Ch’i“ or “Qi” to the kung fu practitioners of Earth. The blast entered the Schermynnor’s gaping mouth and passed down into its gullet.
The monster backed up and shuddered in pain just before it suddenly split open, its nauseating viscera spilling out upon the street as it expired.
With the revolting thing known as the Schermynnor now dead, I turned back to see to the safety of Annette. To my horror, she was no longer there. I looked around, and even left aside safety precautions by calling her name a couple of times -- but to no avail. The girl was gone!
Now, it was in sooth far more likely that she had been kidnapped than that she had just run off. The area was obviously being watched closely by Peter Ainley and/or his Mynverkossian masters, and, having noticed my presence and abilities they would no doubt attempt some subterfuge -- perhaps attempting to utilise the young girl as an hostage to assure my cooperation. I thought it best to continue my investigation of the shop and so deftly opened the lock on the door of “The Record Cave” and entered the establishment.
Inside, it was just the kind of bloody hipster hole I had expected; the kind of place were you can “ironically” purchase old Led Zeppelin records, but mentioning the facts of that particular band’s known predilection for so-called “underage” girls will get you permanently banned from the shop. Apparently, there are indeed some people who actually find truth inappropriate.
“At least the air in here is free of the haze,” I said to myself.
I heard a muffled cry from the back of the shop. It seemed to be coming from what appeared to be an old wooden cupboard, garishly painted with the words “Professor Proteus’ Curiosities Cabinet”, obviously a relic of some carnie huckster who had appeared at one of the record store’s “local arts nights”. You know, the type who present things like a stuffed baby manatee wearing a blonde wig and claim it to be a “mermaid”. Forsooth, some humans still tend to fall for that nonsense. Of course, actual mermaids look nothing like that at all.
I opened the cabinet and found Annette. She was gagged with a dish-towel and tied hand and foot with packing-twine, but seemed otherwise unharmed.
I had set about freeing the young lass from her bonds when I was abruptly hit in the head from behind, this sudden violence sending me reeling several yards across the floor. Shaking off the effects of the blow, which would have surely split the skull of any normal man, I looked up and beheld Peter Ainley standing between Annette and me with a wicked grin on his face. He was still holding the stout cudgel with which he had struck me.
“I know who you are, Dr. Daniel Rumanos,” he announced. “The Mynver scanned for you when they arrived, but it was determined you were no longer on the Earth.”
“I was away for a while, seeing to a certain Matter of Troy,” I admitted.
“I don’t care!” he shouted. “You won’t succeed in stopping the Mynver. Not this time!”
“You have been totally indoctrinated by the Mutations,” I told him. “Brainwashed to serve their appalling totalitarianism.”
“The Mynver chose me. They came to the Earth and chose me to be their servant.”
“Their tool, you mean. Their ship is underneath the shop, hmmm? They came out of Space-warp there. Incredible!”
“The Mynver computer system is the best in the Universe,” boasted Ainley on behalf of his alien overlords. “They can do anything!’
“Rubbish,” I mused. “Oh, that would certainly be what they told you. I meant it was incredible show-off cheekiness for a bunch of mutated half-machine fascist nut-jobs.”
“Don’t speak of them that way, Daniel Rumanos!” shouted Ainley. “The Mynver are now the rulers of Earth, and the rightful rulers of the whole Universe! They will install me as taskmaster over the entire human race! They will… ”
My taunting had had the effect I desired. In his anger, Peter Ainley had moved away from the girl and stepped to-wards me. I rapidly reached out and grasped his arm, the one that was holding the cudgel. A swift twist caused the weapon to clatter to the floor. I quickly utilised a Daemonian self-defence technique, using two fingers to apply pressure to a certain area of Peter Ainley’s neck, rendering him unconscious. I then turned and finished releasing Annette Draper from her bonds.
“Doctor!” she exclaimed, recovering a bit from her fear. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!”
“It will be all right now, love,” I attempted to comfort her. “I just need to get you out of this place, and then…”
“DO NOT MOVE!!!” suddenly came a grotesquely harsh, distorted voice from behind me.
I looked up and saw that we were surrounded by Mynverkossian Mutations!
There were over a dozen of them, obviously the invasion force, the entire compliment of their ship. They hovered around us on all sides.
“You are an enemy of the Mynver!” announced the leader of the Mutations. “You must be eliminated!”
“Eliminate the enemy!” intoned the others in unison as they readied the deadly energy weapons that are fully-incorporated in their bodily systems, aiming directly at the girl and me. “Eliminate! Eliminate! Eliminate!”
Fortunately, I was prepared for this. I grabbed Annette and we dived behind a nearby record-bin. The Mynver weapons flashed crimson-red where we had just been, destroying the old “curiosities cabinet” to mere cinders.
As fast as possible, before the Mynver Mutations could again focus their weapons in our direction, I retrieved the transonic device from my pocket and activated it for a certain function. The Mynver suddenly halted in their movements and, with a flash of light, vanished from the room, the prostrate form of Peter Ainley going with them.
“We have to get out of here, Annette,” said I, taking her hand and hurrying us both to the door. “We have not a second to lose!”
We hurried down the street and around a corner. I pulled the damsel close and we crouched down, me attempting to protect her so far as possible from what I knew was to come.
There was the noise of a tremendous explosion, and the pavement shook awfully as The Record Cave was destroyed.
Finally, the mini-earthquake subsided.
“Are you all right, love?” I enquired.
“Yes,” gasped the young girl. “Yes, I think so. Doctor, what happened?”
“I set the transonic on remote control in order to activate the Space-warp engine on the Mynver ship. It was indeed directly under the shop, and the Mutations were automatically transported there, as is a safety precaution whenever their spaceship’s engines are activated. Its then warping out of this location triggered that explosion -- just a fragment of atomic residue from the engines, you see -- destroying the record store. It should also have sealed the fissure underground, so no one else can use it in an attempt to reach the core of the planet.”
“But why did that Ainley guy disappear with them?”
“I can only suppose,” I pondered, “that the Mynver had implanted some sort of technology in him when he became their slave, linking him to them. Understand?”
“Yes, I think so,” answered the lass. “Ewww.”
“‘Ewww’, indeed. Nevertheless, all should be well now. The haze is lifting, and the people of this fine city should be returning soon. We will find your family and make sure all is well.”
“That’s good!” cheered the girl. “Oh, I owe you so much, Doctor… Well, the whole world does!”
“No worries,” said I. “Nevertheless, I would be honoured if you would allow me to escort you to lunch sometime -- that is, when they get the delicatessens open again!”
“That would be cool!” responded the lovely lass. “But those Mutation things; are they still alive?”
“Probably, but fret not on that account,” I assured her. “I remote-programmed their engines to take them far far away -- to outside of Galactic Space! They should be lost there for a long time.”
“Good!” exclaimed Annette.
“In fact,“ I went on, “we should be able to monitor them for a few moments. Just until the residue of the carrier wave fades. If you will allow me to borrow your mobile?”
“My what?”
“Your ‘cell-phone’,” I translated. Americans.
Annette handed me her telephone and I made a quick adjustment to it utilising the transonic. On its screen appeared the control room of the Mynverkossian ship, its strange alien technology flashing with bizarre psychedelic lights. The Mutations were hovering around Peter Ainley, who had now recovered consciousness. As I had told the girl, it would be some time before the Mutations could again be any threat to Earth, but the brief conversation which we heard, in those few moments before the communications carrier wave faded entirely away, indicated that the day would indeed come in which I would again be dealing with the threat of these horrid fascist and totalitarian megalomaniac Mutations from the planet Mynverkoss.
“Your incompetence has led to a temporary delay in our strategies,” announced the leader of the Mutations to Peter Ainley. “You are unworthy to serve the Mynver.”
“No!” he cowered. “I mean… I’m sorry! It’s that friggin’ Daniel Rumanos! He knows too much, and… !”
“We are Mynver. We accept no excuses. You are unworthy.”
“But, I swear it won’t happen again! I am loyal to you!”
“You are loyal to no one,” replied the Mynver. “You even betrayed your own race to serve us. You are unworthy and will be eliminated! Eliminate!”
“Eliminate!” intoned the other Mutations whilst focusing upon their disgraced slave. “Eliminate! Eliminate!”
And with this, the Mynver turned their horrible energy weapons on Mr. Peter Ainley, blasting him in a crimson glare until what was left of him -- only a charred, broken travesty of inert matter -- crumpled to the floor.
“We have been delayed, but will not be permanently defeated,” announced the prime Mynver Mutation to its comrades. “We will regroup. We will repair and will gain even greater strength. We will plan and we will be ready. We will bring total war and elimination to all who would oppose us! We are the master race of all the cosmos and will conquer all!! We, the Mynver, will take our rightful position as the SUPREME RULERS OF THE UNIVERSE!!!”
***** DANIEL RUMANOS AND MILLIE DRAKE SHALL RETURN
