With another couple of dried-branches tossed onto the fire by the quiet -and probably confused Boy In A Dress, Tibbs arranged
his thoughts and his robe in preparation of explaining a conundrum that should have only one outcome.
Regardless of Ninurta's gung-ho attitude of slash-and-burn everything before, behind and beside you -including your enemy and
yourself, Tibbs' mind cried out for another alternative to an outcome set in some long-forgotten folklore.
The prone Gunman was once again under his hat, but the Vithian knew he wasn't resting. Tibbs took solace in the fact that Ninurta's
natural position was to absorb information for self-benefit, inwardly examine each piece and arrive at a solution without wasting
time on moral consequences or concerns regarding collateral damage.
And it usually involved the use of that awful altered weapon on his hip.
The pistol, an archaic firearm from when Earth was still young and believed it had importance in the cosmos, had been deconstructed
by a a technologically advanced race of Carboxians and now performed in a manner no other Navy Colt revolver had. Tibb's inwardly
frowned at recalling all the destruction the weapon and its owner had administered.
How Tibbs had reacquired the pistol and Ninurta's clothes was a tale in itself. The account also explained why the Time-Machine could
locate the bad-tempered Marine fairly-easily in the first place. Struggling to haul his contemplation back to the matter in-hand, Tibbs
released the mental images of blood-soaked beings on the Dresden Flats and unnecessary carnage -in his opinion, of The Frates conflict.
Forcing himself to return to the subject of the Final Mainyu, Tibbs cleared his throat and began.
"Okay... it's like this" the bearded gizmo-wizard said.
.................................................
The growling Gunman was near to the truth when he'd said three thousand years. If pushed, the handset in Tibbs' pocket could produce
the exact-date from Ninurta's birth if relevant to the yarn, but let's not get bogged-down with little details.
It's not like it's the end of the... well, you know what I mean.
The problem with The Final Mainyu arose when a race of space-time explorers came across a planet system under control of a being
called Ba'al. Something of note should be said here is that up to this point, Ba'al and his obedient minions were stunted in their own
abilities to travel in space and you can forget utilising faster-than-light travel, The Mainyu's concept of what is a reality tended to stifle
any theories beyond basic science.
True, the habitable planets in the Mainyu system had been colonised and some efforts had been made to look at other star-systems.
Probes were launched and information examined, a manned-rocket was even sent past the Rings of Golan in order to find out if the
Mainyu species were the only ones in this vastness of nothingness. But since it never came back, the alleged wise and brave Ba'al
decided that he may be conqueror of all, but he was shackled to what he knew and that had to be enough.
Tibbs didn't elaborate on this part because it sort-of messes with most people's minds. In this particular universe, pain didn't exist
in the way we perceive it and the concept of how we see death was different. The Mainyu's physical make-up were similar to ours
in the fashion that their bodies comprised of organs needed to function in an animated manner, but requirements of oxygen and
edible sustenance were not part of that reality, nor the need for an alarm-system that warned of physical damage like ours.
Believe me, these were a large part of the main worries that The Council of the Perfect Nine believed would hinder Tibbs' mission
to stop the Mainyu's advancement from their current corporeality.
But I'm straying off topic.
Ba'al wanted his people to be better. To the reader, these horse-faced humanoids could be equated to mankind's later-yearnings of
wanting to be part of something bigger, the only difference was that Ba'al also wanted that enormity to be under his controlling hand
and assist in branding his name across what he dreamed was a place of infinity.
The day (which was worth two of ours) that the Lavantians appeared through the clouds above the financial-district of Copa-Moor on
Hadad and pretentiously presented themselves as fellow-neophytes of the universe, was the day everything changed.
If we scroll on ten thousand years, the impatient and power-hungry Ba'al had also changed. Physical existence had been left behind
as the use of scientific knowledge and high majick had brought him a body that would endure until the end of time. Brightly, his essence
shone amongst the stars and every sentient-being knew of the fair-but-strict Warrior-King's shadow across their land.
A tale you've heard before, yeah...? and you'd be correct. Ba'al wanted everything, but don't make the mistake of thinking that his hunger
of total sovereignty led him without prudence. The tall figure with the equine features measured his conquering, he knew when to attack
and knew when to halt. He held a rare quality of absorbing incoming information and utilising it without moral obstacles or immediate
concerns for those who assisted his goals.
Some would nonchalantly use the word psychopath, but Ba'al was more. Psychopathy is a disorder that rides the possessor, in Ba'al's
case, he steered that wild mare with such finesse and acumen that a whole functioning macrocosm could lay in his control.
Planet-systems blossomed in their separate evolutions, the betterment of societies became a major issue under Ba'al's watchful gaze
and like a steady breathing of a grizzled Gunslinger, the idea that attainable goal of accessing other realities moved closer.
The Lavantians' ransacked technology didn't function for Ba'al's science-communities, it was from somewhere else... a place they'd
missed possibly. Twisting time, puncturing its actual fabric and discovering what lay beyond, it seemed like a mind-boggling chess-piece
just out of reach.
Of course, it was no accident. Those who mused in the Hall of Owls had foreseen what -what later scholars would describe as 'evil-think',
and that the brooding King-of-Kings would eventually become aware that his massive realm could multiply if he could somehow learn the
unlearnable. For the human species, it was like trying to build a vehicle that would run on ghosts or be fuelled by unicorn breath.
Using the many conquered races and their technologies that existed across the light-years of the known cosmos, the tall smouldering Majesty
with the now-famous silver hair, assured his vastly-expanded followers that they would not weep when they reached the edge of the universe,
they would push on and through.
After another ten thousand years later, Ba'al did just that.
.................................................
"So he wiped out another universe and became the Boss..." Ninurta interrupted from under the wide-rimmed stetson. "...It's a scary tale
without an endin' that's told to chillun' when the bad weather comes down" he added caustically and wondered if Mucklebones had any
coffee left in the dented-pot she brought from her husband's contraption.
The other beguiled listeners blinked out of their concentration -with exception of Boy In A Dress who doesn't have eyes -but the mental
action was just the same, and peered out into the darkness with their thoughts.
The lean figure rose from his position and reached across for the coffee-pot sitting on a smooth stone next to the fire -that no doubt,
BIAD had found somewhere. What it was with stones and the Man-Girl was something Ninurta had never worked out and to be honest,
the Gunslinger wasn't that intrigued with.
Tibbs sat silent as the intruder of his pre-mission ramble poured himself a cupful of the black liquid and wondered if the simplicity that
Ninurta saw the world around himself would drastically change when they finally met up with the legend that was more than a legend.
"But since the weather is fine and we're all over eighteen, please go on with your spine-chilling saga about old horse-face" he muttered
and resettled himself on the terminator, the point where the firelight failed and the same darkness that Muckles and BIAD had pondered
in, began.
his thoughts and his robe in preparation of explaining a conundrum that should have only one outcome.
Regardless of Ninurta's gung-ho attitude of slash-and-burn everything before, behind and beside you -including your enemy and
yourself, Tibbs' mind cried out for another alternative to an outcome set in some long-forgotten folklore.
The prone Gunman was once again under his hat, but the Vithian knew he wasn't resting. Tibbs took solace in the fact that Ninurta's
natural position was to absorb information for self-benefit, inwardly examine each piece and arrive at a solution without wasting
time on moral consequences or concerns regarding collateral damage.
And it usually involved the use of that awful altered weapon on his hip.
The pistol, an archaic firearm from when Earth was still young and believed it had importance in the cosmos, had been deconstructed
by a a technologically advanced race of Carboxians and now performed in a manner no other Navy Colt revolver had. Tibb's inwardly
frowned at recalling all the destruction the weapon and its owner had administered.
How Tibbs had reacquired the pistol and Ninurta's clothes was a tale in itself. The account also explained why the Time-Machine could
locate the bad-tempered Marine fairly-easily in the first place. Struggling to haul his contemplation back to the matter in-hand, Tibbs
released the mental images of blood-soaked beings on the Dresden Flats and unnecessary carnage -in his opinion, of The Frates conflict.
Forcing himself to return to the subject of the Final Mainyu, Tibbs cleared his throat and began.
"Okay... it's like this" the bearded gizmo-wizard said.
.................................................
The growling Gunman was near to the truth when he'd said three thousand years. If pushed, the handset in Tibbs' pocket could produce
the exact-date from Ninurta's birth if relevant to the yarn, but let's not get bogged-down with little details.
It's not like it's the end of the... well, you know what I mean.
The problem with The Final Mainyu arose when a race of space-time explorers came across a planet system under control of a being
called Ba'al. Something of note should be said here is that up to this point, Ba'al and his obedient minions were stunted in their own
abilities to travel in space and you can forget utilising faster-than-light travel, The Mainyu's concept of what is a reality tended to stifle
any theories beyond basic science.
True, the habitable planets in the Mainyu system had been colonised and some efforts had been made to look at other star-systems.
Probes were launched and information examined, a manned-rocket was even sent past the Rings of Golan in order to find out if the
Mainyu species were the only ones in this vastness of nothingness. But since it never came back, the alleged wise and brave Ba'al
decided that he may be conqueror of all, but he was shackled to what he knew and that had to be enough.
Tibbs didn't elaborate on this part because it sort-of messes with most people's minds. In this particular universe, pain didn't exist
in the way we perceive it and the concept of how we see death was different. The Mainyu's physical make-up were similar to ours
in the fashion that their bodies comprised of organs needed to function in an animated manner, but requirements of oxygen and
edible sustenance were not part of that reality, nor the need for an alarm-system that warned of physical damage like ours.
Believe me, these were a large part of the main worries that The Council of the Perfect Nine believed would hinder Tibbs' mission
to stop the Mainyu's advancement from their current corporeality.
But I'm straying off topic.
Ba'al wanted his people to be better. To the reader, these horse-faced humanoids could be equated to mankind's later-yearnings of
wanting to be part of something bigger, the only difference was that Ba'al also wanted that enormity to be under his controlling hand
and assist in branding his name across what he dreamed was a place of infinity.
The day (which was worth two of ours) that the Lavantians appeared through the clouds above the financial-district of Copa-Moor on
Hadad and pretentiously presented themselves as fellow-neophytes of the universe, was the day everything changed.
If we scroll on ten thousand years, the impatient and power-hungry Ba'al had also changed. Physical existence had been left behind
as the use of scientific knowledge and high majick had brought him a body that would endure until the end of time. Brightly, his essence
shone amongst the stars and every sentient-being knew of the fair-but-strict Warrior-King's shadow across their land.
A tale you've heard before, yeah...? and you'd be correct. Ba'al wanted everything, but don't make the mistake of thinking that his hunger
of total sovereignty led him without prudence. The tall figure with the equine features measured his conquering, he knew when to attack
and knew when to halt. He held a rare quality of absorbing incoming information and utilising it without moral obstacles or immediate
concerns for those who assisted his goals.
Some would nonchalantly use the word psychopath, but Ba'al was more. Psychopathy is a disorder that rides the possessor, in Ba'al's
case, he steered that wild mare with such finesse and acumen that a whole functioning macrocosm could lay in his control.
Planet-systems blossomed in their separate evolutions, the betterment of societies became a major issue under Ba'al's watchful gaze
and like a steady breathing of a grizzled Gunslinger, the idea that attainable goal of accessing other realities moved closer.
The Lavantians' ransacked technology didn't function for Ba'al's science-communities, it was from somewhere else... a place they'd
missed possibly. Twisting time, puncturing its actual fabric and discovering what lay beyond, it seemed like a mind-boggling chess-piece
just out of reach.
Of course, it was no accident. Those who mused in the Hall of Owls had foreseen what -what later scholars would describe as 'evil-think',
and that the brooding King-of-Kings would eventually become aware that his massive realm could multiply if he could somehow learn the
unlearnable. For the human species, it was like trying to build a vehicle that would run on ghosts or be fuelled by unicorn breath.
Using the many conquered races and their technologies that existed across the light-years of the known cosmos, the tall smouldering Majesty
with the now-famous silver hair, assured his vastly-expanded followers that they would not weep when they reached the edge of the universe,
they would push on and through.
After another ten thousand years later, Ba'al did just that.
.................................................
"So he wiped out another universe and became the Boss..." Ninurta interrupted from under the wide-rimmed stetson. "...It's a scary tale
without an endin' that's told to chillun' when the bad weather comes down" he added caustically and wondered if Mucklebones had any
coffee left in the dented-pot she brought from her husband's contraption.
The other beguiled listeners blinked out of their concentration -with exception of Boy In A Dress who doesn't have eyes -but the mental
action was just the same, and peered out into the darkness with their thoughts.
The lean figure rose from his position and reached across for the coffee-pot sitting on a smooth stone next to the fire -that no doubt,
BIAD had found somewhere. What it was with stones and the Man-Girl was something Ninurta had never worked out and to be honest,
the Gunslinger wasn't that intrigued with.
Tibbs sat silent as the intruder of his pre-mission ramble poured himself a cupful of the black liquid and wondered if the simplicity that
Ninurta saw the world around himself would drastically change when they finally met up with the legend that was more than a legend.
"But since the weather is fine and we're all over eighteen, please go on with your spine-chilling saga about old horse-face" he muttered
and resettled himself on the terminator, the point where the firelight failed and the same darkness that Muckles and BIAD had pondered
in, began.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.