INTO THE BLACK

“First things first, we need a bird that can get her feathers wet,” said Google, addressing the rest of crew, who were all gathered around the cockpit dining table.

“What are you talking about?” asked Jupiter.

“Atlantis – the entire planet is one big water world; we'll need a ship that can travel underwater.”

“Come on, surely we're not... It's suicide. Yes, we have one piece of the key, but there's still two pieces to go – and we'll have every ship in the galaxy hunting us down if Mykur passes his kill order,” said Abe.

“That's the second thing,” said Justice, taking charge. “We need to delay that order if we're to have any chance. Jupiter, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty, no pun, of researching you and Abe before Google hired you. You have connections to the Malacandra.”

“That was a lifetime ago,” Jupiter replied.

“Do you have any connections left that you could trust? They're just about the only group in the galaxy that still openly defies Mykur. If we could get them to message the Council planets maybe we could delay the kill order. It's possible they could sway enough planets our way.”

Jupiter took a sip from his drink.

“The way I left things with the Malacandra, they'd be just as likely to kill me themselves.”

“Well, suck it up, princess. Justice is right, we won't make it to Atlantis with a kill order on our heads,” Liberty said, in-between bites of Hangover-b-gone bacon.

“One problem,” said Abe. “Well, no, actually, a million problems – but one more problem – the Malacandra are on Mars while, last time I checked, Atlantis is on the other side of the galaxy.”

“Ape is right,” said Google, before ducking a cup thrown at him by Abe. “Sorry, Abe is right. That's why we need to split up. One group makes the trek to Atlantis on The Love Crusader, while the other group heads to Mars on Blackbird to meet with the Malacandra.”

“So who's going to Mars?” asked Liberty.

“I'll go – I was born there, no one knows the planet better. Abe, you take the others to Atlantis,” said Jupiter.

Abe and Justice both jumped to their feet, talking over the top of each other.

“Whoa, one at a time. Justice?” said Jupiter.

“Getting to the Malacandra is too important – you'll need help. You can't go alone.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“No. Liberty will be going with you.”

Liberty glared across at Justice. “My job is to protect Google. Where he goes, I go.”

“Lib – the best thing you can do to protect Google is to make sure the kill order doesn't get through the Council,” Justice said.

“It's true. Besides, I'm not the chosen one – I'm not your mission anymore.”

“Like hell you're not,” said Liberty.

“Don't worry, it'll be ok Lib. You'll find I've learnt a lot from you over the years,” Google said with a slight smirk.

Liberty looked down at her now empty plate with a grimace.

“I thought the bacon tasted funny,” she managed to slur before her head hit the table, passed out.

“Great, so it's all settled then,” said Justice. “Let's get you and Liberty packed and onto Blackbird – remember to dress warm for Mars.”

Google and Justice gently lifted Liberty out of her chair and made their way out of the cockpit. Now alone, Abe made his way over to Jupiter.

“You sure about this, boss?”

“Yes, you're the only one I'd trust with The Crusader.”

“But perhaps I should be the one going to Mars with Liberty.”

“Nah, it'll be fine. It'll be good – hey, I used to love Mars. Besides, I remember how you feel about the place.”

“Can't say I'm too fond of flying underwater, either.”

“You'll be fine. Just you make sure The Crusader stays in one piece. Don't let the kid fly her.”

Jupiter got up to head towards his quarters. Abe looked across, weighing up whether to say something or not. Then:

“Belle - she's not going to be happy to see you. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean, you can't remember if you had a birthmark before the crash!?” Jupiter asked, nervously pacing back and forward around the cockpit.
“Well, it's on my back... I didn't exactly spent a lot of time examining my back when I was a kid. What's the big deal?”
“What's going on?” asked Liberty, starting to sound concerned.
“And do stop moving – you're all whooshy when you move,” said Justice.
“What's with him?” Jupiter asked Liberty.
“He's can't handle his alcohol straight.”
“You can drink it arty?”
“No. I mean, he's used to having it mixed with coke. We're Cokecasians, remember.”
“Can we get back to the topic of our imminent, painful death?” asked Abe.

“Ok, I just received a transmission from Mykur – asking me to hand over Google.”
Liberty automatically reached for her blaster, “You didn't...”
“No. Stupidly it would seem! He said Google's not the chosen one. Mykur just set things up to make it look like he was to take the attention away from his hunt for the real chosen one.”
“But that's impossible – what about the way Google's parents died and the birthmark?” asked Abe.
“He tampered with the reanimation machine so that only Google would survive the space jump – the miraculous survivor. And the birthmark is just a combination of scarring and tattoo work. I even saw the footage of them doing it.”
Google sat down silently, his head in his hands.

“So what do we do now?” asked Abe.
“We have 24 hours to hand over the piece of The Trinity Key; he said that if we did that, he'd spare us; that he wouldn't hunt us down.”
“And you trust him?”
“No. Of course not – the guy's 101 flavours of evil. But, we don't really have any other option, do we? If we don't hand it over, he'll request the Intergalactic Council put a kill order on all of us. He already controls over 50% of the Council – it's very possible he could get the 66% vote required. We'd have every member of the entire galaxy's armies and police squadrons after us.”
Google started to run his hands through his hair, the way someone might do if they were stressed out about discovering they're not a prophesied hero. Jupiter rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, look at this way kid, it's over. You should be happy. No more having to worry about killing Mykur. No more worrying about having to be some hero.”
Jupiter walked over to his control monitor, ”We can just press this button, make a deal and it's all over.”

“Press the button,” Google said softly.
“Are we all sure?” asked Jupiter.
“It makes tactical sense,” replied Justice.
“It's our only choice,” added Abe.
Liberty just sat quietly.
“Press it,” Google said more forcefully.
Jupiter did as he was told and a few seconds later a hologram of Prince Mykur appeared before them, smiling politely.
“How nice it is to see you all – particularly you master Google. I take it we can come to some sort of arrangement?”
Google stood and slowly approached the hologram.
“Here's the deal I'm prepared to make: You murdered my parents. I never even really got to know them. And you think I'll give you what you need to rule the galaxy? So I'm not the chosen one and I may not be able to face you in battle and live – but so help me, I don't care if I die in the process, I'm going to kill you, you evil son of a bitch. Do you hear me!? I'm going to fucking kill you!” he yelled before smashing the hologram projector into a hundred pieces.

“Well, that went well,” Abe muttered to himself.

Previously on INTO THE BLACK

Google and the hang have just collected the first piece of the three-part Trinity Key. With directions on how to get the next two pieces, things are looking up for our heroes, but surely Prince Mykur can't be beaten that easily. And so far, if this story was a chocolate bar, there'd be no need for the warning: May contain traces of Cher.

Now we rejoin the action...

The celebrations and back patting were still going strong on-board The Love Crusader. For once even Liberty was letting her hair down – allowing herself the chance to imagine a time when Mykur may be defeated and Google safe. The only ones that didn't seem to be partying it up, were Abe (who had retreated to his room – tired of hearing about other people's success) and Google, who sat alone in a corner of the cockpit reading The art of war by Sun Tzu. Jupiter got up from his recliner and made his way over.

“Your bodyguards can't handle their alcohol, can they?”

“Are they drunk?” asked Google, not looking up from his book.

“Yeah, Justice is blind. And Liberty's on her way, too,” Jupiter said. He studied Google a moment, then added, “What's up with you?”

“I'm not drunk, relax,” he replied.

“No, it's not that. You've barely said a word since we got a piece of the key. I thought you'd be happy. This is what you wanted, right?”

Google glanced up at Jupiter, “I didn't want any of this. I never asked for it. I'm going to get us all killed is what's going to happen. You should leave. You should all get as far away as you can.”

“Whoa, what's brought this on?”

“The closer we get to the Trinity Key, the closer we get to Mykur, and the closer we get to my showdown with him... it just all suddenly feels real. And I realised something today... I can't win.”

The declaration hung in the air. Before Jupiter could counter, Google continued, “Justice risked his life a few hours ago and didn't even blink. I couldn't do that. When Miller pulled a blaster on us, where was I? Hiding behind Justice and Liberty, messing my pants. Same as always. Can't anyone see – I'm not a hero! How the fudge am I supposed to defeat Mykur... I'm just a kid. How can I succeed when the prophecy says real heroes like Justice and Liberty would fail? There's no hope.”

Jupiter rested his hand on Google's shoulder.

“You're just a little scared, that's ok. It's not a crime to be afraid. Well, except for on Delta 7.”

Originally a inhospitable planet, Delta 7 was terra-formed in the late 22^nd century by Jedi Fundamentalists who, based on the teachings of Yoda in the prequel testament (“Fear leads anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to the dark side”) decided to make fear a crime. Coincidentally, Delta 7 was now almost entirely covered in prisons – with citizens living in constant fear of being put in jail.

“So just relax, the prophecy...”

Google scoffed back a laugh, “The prophecy says I'm the only one that can fight him and live. Key word: can. Not: will. The point is, I'm no hero. I don't even know who I am yet. I don't think I could kill someone. I just want to be nobody. To live a normal life - I've never even been in love or kissed a girl.”

Jupiter laughed. Google glanced across, annoyed.

“Forget I said anything.”

“No – sorry I wasn't laughing at you. It's just... you're scared of the wrong things. Trust me, there are worse things than death.”

“Like what?”

“Women.”

“So you are Arty.”

“For the last time, no. I'm attracted to women plenty.”

“So you've just never been in love then?” Google asked.

“I didn't say that,” Jupiter answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“What's it like?”

“I don't have time to talk about it,” Jupiter replied before getting up. Google looked back down at his book, still clearly depressed.

A sigh from Jupiter, and then, “Just one night with someone you love... it's like... it's like your whole life is worth it, just for those few fleeting moments. That there's a greater power behind it all.”

Google looked up at him, “That doesn't sound so bad.”

“You got a lot to learn kid.”

Jupiter made his way back to his quarters, hoping for a quick nap before they made plans on getting to Atlantis. He'd barely closed his eyes when he sensed a light coming from inside his room.

“Your 24 hours are nearly up,” said a hologram of Prince Mykur.

“You said I had 48 hours.”

“Did I? Well, I changed my mind. Now, let me use the remaining time to tell you a story, in case you finished school before I made my biography part of the curriculum. Do you know why I'll rule the galaxy?”

Jupiter thought on it a second. “Your massive conscripted army?”

“No. Simple will power. In life, you need to dare do what the other man won't do. If he'll kill one billion people, then you must be prepared to kill one billion and one. My parents didn't understand that principle – they let our planet be downgraded to a moon. You can see why I had to kill them.”

“I'm sure if they were still alive, they'd be very proud, your majesty.”

Mykur smiled, not picking up on the sarcasm. “I like to think so. My point is that you need to think the unthinkable, do the un-doable. That's how you become great. That's how you become legend.”

“Why are you blessing me with this lesson?”

“You and I are, we're not so disimilar. Normally, in this position, I'd threaten to kill someone you love – but I can't find any record of you loving anyone. Your file shows time and again that you'll chose money over all else. It warms my heart. But that won't save you if you disappoint me. Now, kill Google and enjoy untold riches.”

Jupiter took a deep breath. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline your offer.”

A flash of anger appeared on Mykur's face, but in an instant it was replaced by a chilling calm.

“You will live to regret it. And then eventually die to regret it,” said Mykur.

“I don't know,” said Jupiter, sitting up confidently in his bed. “I'm starting to think this kid could take you down.”

“Oh do you?” said Mykur with an icy grin.

“Way I see it, we've not only got a prophecy on our side – but now the first piece of The Trinity Key, too. So maybe you should start treating us a little nicer.”

“Well then, seeing as we're sharing secrets – I think this might bring you back down to Earth 8: The eagle seen up close does not fly, so you see, your chosen one will die.”

Jupiter furrowed his brow. “Uh, what does that mean?”

“It is very vague isn't it... I knew I should've made them go with the cooking theme,” said Mykur.

“What!?”

“Your chosen one was chosen all right – but by me. If you want to make your own chosen one at home, first you need to separate him from his parents: I suggest you finely chop up the reanimation system on your selected child's ship. Then take your child - the miraculous survivor, and add a tattoo and scar artist to create a delicate birthmark on his shoulder. To finish, let him simmer for, oh, around ten years. I don't know about you, but I sure do find it delicious.”

Jupiter went a shade of white.

“You mean...”

“That's right, I'm afraid Google is no more the chosen one than you are. He was just a diversion I created to keep everyone occupied while I went about hunting down and killing the real chosen one. Oh, I do like surprises, don't you?”

In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you I'm dead. In fact, I've been dead for over a day now.

“You're not dead. Will you stop with that already.”

That's Matt. He can speak to dead people.

“I'm not... I can't speak to dead people! Enough already!”

Poor guy. You can see the strain the gift places on him. Temper tantrums and such.

“Ok then ass clown, tell me how you died?”

I can't remember how I died. Of course, Matt still can't wrap his pudgy head around that – when it comes to ghost whispering, he isn't exactly Jennifer Love-Hewitt. Can you remember how you were born? It's the same with death. Matt's getting restless now, fidgeting in his seat.

“Why'd you stop taking your meds?”

Ah, well, I didn't think drugs could do me much good now, seeing as how I'm, oh, DEAD!

He stares up at the ceiling and lets out a silent scream.

“Ok, last question: how come, in this here cafe, the waitress saw you and took your order? You're eating food. That's not typical ghost behaviour, is it, Scott? How do you explain that? Does the waitress have the gift of seeing the dead, too?”

Of course she doesn't. Matt simply sees what he wants to see. He's in the denial stage of grief.

“Ah, for fucks sake, I'm sick of this bullshit! Keep it up, you'll lose all your friends, too,” he yells at me, before making a dash for the door.

That's good. That's for the best. He's moved onto the anger stage.

I finish my coffee then head towards the exit, just in time for the door to be shut in my face. Obviously they didn't see me. Well, of course they didn't. Guess no one ever said death was meant to be easy. The chill of winter grips me as I step outside. Times like these I wish I'd died in something other than my tennis gear – it doesn't offer much in way of warmth. I pull my socks up as high as they'll go and jog on the spot in an attempt to stay warm. Snow descends from the sky, bombs in a cold war, as I navigate the city streets. Ducking and weaving, I make my way through the crowd, avoiding people left and right as they push and shove their way past each other. More than a few times I nearly have people walk right through me. At least some things are the same in death as in life.

On the subway now, clatter from the tracks providing a background for my thoughts. If I weren't a local, I might worry I'd been cast down to hell. However, the smell that invades my nostrils is less brimstone, more urine and body odour. Yes, only the subway can make hell seem appealing. A map of the underground is posted next to the doors. From a distance the train lines look like arteries running through the heart of New York city; a heart that is surely rotting, going by what I can smell.

Back inside my apartment; finally back to a feeling of comfort and security. A feeling that's rare to find when you're dead. Yes, it's good to be home. My happy return is disturbed when I hear moaning. Diane. Poor Diane. I suspected she would take my death hard, but even I'm surprised by the great, heavy sobs coming from her. I make my way down the dark corridor into the kitchen. What cruel torture to watch her in pain – wanting desperately to comfort her, but being unable. I enter the room to witness my psychiatrist doing her doggy style.

His sweaty butt jiggles around like a novelty jelly dessert gone wrong. The moaning gets louder. She's faking it, I can tell. Lord knows she faked it enough with me. I stand there, painfully numb, a horrible contradiction of feelings as he continues his robotic thrusts. I move slightly to my right in an attempt to glimpse his dick. I really hope he has really small one. (He always did say I was emotionally immature.) I watch as he begins to slide it out of my girlfriend. And continues to. Still going. And now... no still withdrawing. Hmph. Well, I hear women care more about girth anyway.

It's then that I notice one other thing: no condom. She always made me wear one. She trusts him. Something about the whole scene makes me realise this isn't some heat of the moment Scott's-dead-so-I-need-company shag. No. Everything suggests it's just a run-of-the-mill shag from an ongoing affair. An affair that must have started when I was alive. The anger builds in me as their moaning increases and just as he seems past the point of no return, ready to shoot life into her, I explode. In a burst of poltergeist energy I send a chair flying across the room. She screams. My naked shrink turns in shock.

“Scott!”

“How long have you been feeling disconnected from life, Scott?”

How long you been doing my girlfriend, shrink? He sits in front of me, wearing a dressing gown and a smug I just screwed your girlfriend expression.

“Now, Scott, Diane explained the situation to you on Tuesday. You're not supposed to be here. You're meant to be staying with Matt. You have no right to enter unannounced. Technically you're trespassing.”

He's talking to a ghost and he wants to get anal. Well, too bad for him. I know that's the one thing Diane won't do.

“I can understand you wanting to lash out at Diane and me, Scott. That's natural. But this delusion – we need to address it.”

He keeps saying my name. It's so pompous, don't you think?

“Remember when you lost confidence in your painting ability? You came in worked up, convinced that your hand had fallen off, but that wasn't the case now was it?”

I clinch my new robotic hand into a fist. I don't see his point.

“My point is, breaking up is hard. It can feel like you've had your heart ripped out, but it'll heal. Your heart is still there, it hasn't stopped beating. This delusion of yours is your mind finding a way to avoid dealing with the real, underlying issues. The hard issues.”

I get up from the couch. I'm tired of all this talk. I want to leave before he decides to start charging me for his time.

I'm almost out the door when Diane approaches me meekly. Here we go. Here come the waterworks and the pleas for forgiveness. Maybe that's why she can still see me. I'm meant to haunt her. That's my unfinished business. She holds out her hand. Here we go.

“Please, can you give me your keys to the apartment?”

I really hate my after life.

“Don't make me change the locks, Scott.”

I hand them over. It's stupid. This is all just so stupid. Does she not realise I could just float through the damn door if I wanted?

Somehow I end up back at the cafe. I don't know where else to go. Nursing a coffee, I sit alone in one of the corner booths. Just me and my silent heart.

“Please tell me you're normal.”

Huh? I look up to discover a perky blonde girl in her early thirties, beaming up at me. The sort of girl that would've made my heart race, once upon a time.

“Sorry. It's just a thing my shrink has me doing – overcoming shyness. I have to approach a random stranger every day and start a conversation. This way, you end up defending that you're normal – ignoring the fact that what I'm doing is kinda bizarre. Brilliant, don't you think?”

She talks fairly fast, but that's the only noticeable sign of nervousness. Guess her shrink is better than mine.

“Thanks. So now you know my deal, what's yours? It's just, you seem kinda bummed out. Feel free to tell me to go away though, if you want – I know it's none of my business.”

I don't want her to go. I'll spill the beans if it means she stays.

“That's so harsh, boning your shrink. Well, I guess more, he was boning her. Did you have any idea?”

I should have, really. I mean things had been going downhill with Diane for ages. She always hated how much time I'd spend on my art. Or as she would call it, my 'art', the quotation marks implied from her tone of voice. I hoped things would get better when I caved and gave up painting to take on a soulless job at a bank, but really it just got worse. Maybe it was my fault – I started to resent what my life was becoming and she was an easy target to blame. Truth is, our relationship had been decaying for a long time. I feel like I've been sleepwalking through the last ten months of my life.

“Oh my god! That's awesome! Well, not awesome – like you're life's fucked. But this is your 'And then' moment. That's awesome.”

My what?

“In the movies, when things seem at their worst, it's always right before they change for the best. I think it's called the 'And then' moment. Like, um, in The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy is captured by the wicked witch and then she's like, hello bucket of water. Or in Ghostbusters, they're all about to get killed by the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, and then they realise they can save the day by merging their energy streams. This is just your 'And then' moment. Maybe you'll become a famous artist or meet the girl of your dreams. Or both. The point is, you've escaped a job and girl you don't love. That's got to be for best. Now just follow your bliss.”

I smile at the thought of it as she looks down at her watch. Could life ever be that simple?

“Oh shit! I've got to run. But hey, I'm usually here Friday lunchtimes chatting to randoms, so keep an eye out for me if you're in. Be nice to chat to someone who's not a stranger.”

It's funny. She doesn't seem shy.

“Must be something about you that brings me out of my shell.”

She quickly slides out of the booth.

“Nice meeting you.”

A kiss on the cheek and she's gone.

And then my heart starts to beat.

I step outside and the late afternoon sun warms my skin. I feel different; somehow set apart from the all the 9-5 office drones dressed in suits, all rushing along the streets so fast they never stop to see the breathtaking sunset on display. I pity them. I used to be them.

They rush down the street and keep the city pulsing, never slowing down to realise they're dying on the inside. Now I know the truth. Everywhere I look, I see dead people.

But I've never felt more alive.

“Ah... why aren't I dead?” asked Justice.
“Very good question, my dear boy. It's because you've won! Oh, and because that was just a hologram blade.”
Celebratory game show music filled the dome as Justice was freed from the guillotine's restraints.
“So, 7 was actually the right answer?”
“Good lord, no. But this was never a test of your intelligence,” said the hologram as it changed before their eyes. Gone was the tall, gaunt representation of Alexander Vogel, replaced by a shorter man with softer features.
“Forgive me for the deception – My name is Christopher Charles and I most certainly am not the smartest men ever. You probably could have guessed that, what with my foolish mistake of placing the Trinity Key so close to a gravity suppressor. You see, I always put more importance on someone's heart than their mind. In choosing to be honest, at the presumed cost of your life, you've proven yourself worthy of this,” the hologram said as The Trinity Key orb floated over to Justice, landing softly in his hand.

The hologram looked solemnly across at them.
“I must tell you, there is quite a challenge ahead if you wish to claim the two other pieces of the key. A good heart in itself is not enough. I should know – I destroyed an entire planet. You'll find the real Alexander Vogel has crafted an extraordinary brain teaser for you on the water planet Atlantis to ensure you're of the right intelligence. If successful there, combine the two pieces of the key and you will be led to Rebecca Jorden and the third piece. But make sure you're well rested when you do so, for to earn that piece you'll have to display incredible physical ability.”
“Can you give us any hints?”
“I could... but look at the time,” he said, pointing at the count down clock, which showed there was only a few minutes until the next snow show.
“You're right, we better get out of here. Thanks for the key,” Jupiter said.
“Uh, just one more thing. Please don't tell the Alexander Vogel hologram about my little gravity blunder. No doubt he'll ask – that twat always did have to know everything.”

The four made their way back out into the warming sunshine of Super-Sunny-Happy-Bright-Fun Land, where Miller waited to greet them.
“So, did you find what you were looking for?” he asked as he helped them back into their safety harnesses and latched them onto the metal beam.
“Yes, we certainly did,” said Jupiter with a big grin.
“Excellent! It just goes to show - this planet has everything you could ever hope for.”
“That it does, Miller, that it does,” said Justice, still buzzing after his escape from death.
Miller stopped, confused. “Where are you all heading?”
“Back to my ship. We've got we came for?” Jupiter replied.
“But you... you can't leave.”
“Can we take him with us?” Google asked. “He can't be happy stuck here on a planet all by himself.”
Jupiter thought on it for a second. “I guess I could use a helper-bot. What do you say, Miller?”
“You think I would leave this beautiful slice of nirvana! Are you mad? I guess you haven't seen the sunsets here. There's two of them, you know.”
“I'm afraid we'll have to miss both – we need to get going right away.”
“But I can't allow that, sir. You really must see the sunsets,” said Miller, as he pulled a blaster on them. “Unless you want to end up like the others.”
“The others?”
“The ones in Fantabulous City that were indoors when the first gravity storm hit. They wanted to leave this world, too – so I made sure they got there, express all the way,” he said looking up at the skeleton rings that orbited the planet.

Before he had a chance to say anymore, Liberty and Justice fired a torrent of shots from their blasters, sending Miller's gun - and the arm it was attached to, flying.
Just as quickly, Miller drew another gun in his one remaining hand.
“Where is he getting all these guns from?” exclaimed Jupiter.
The robot took aim at Liberty and Justice, whose blasters were still powering back up after their recent efforts.
“Before you fire, there's one thing you should know,” Jupiter said as he stood in front of the brother-sister duo, blocking Miller's shot.
“What's that?”
“Ichi-bots aren't that much heavier than Ni-bots.”
“So?”
“How much do you think one of your arms weighs?”
A look of concern flashed up on Miller's face as the city started to rumble. Quickly, he dropped his gun and reached out for the metal bar, missing it by mere inches as he rose up into the sky.
“It really is a wonderful planet. No gravity is a delightful weight off your shoulders!” they heard him yell, before he became a distant dot on the horizon.

END OF PART ONE

The story so far: The team (minus Abe) have made it to Super-Sunny-Happy-Bright-Fun Land and located a piece of the Trinity Key. To obtain it, however, they'll first have to complete a dangerous challenge proving their intelligence. References so far to Cher, a popular singer, songwriter, actress and gay icon in the late 20^th and early 21^st century: 0.

“The rules are simple: for every question you get right, step forward one place on this game grid. Complete five questions correctly and you collect this piece of The Trinity Key.” A small pedestal rose out of the ground – hovering ten inches above the pedestal was a black, sphere-shaped object about the size of hockey ball. “Get one question wrong and your selected player dies – but don't worry, you can play again until you're all dead. And, should you decide to quit before that point, you won't go home empty handed. That's right! You'll get this lovely Who wants a piece of the Trinity key? boardgame, yours to play in the comfort of your own home. So, shall we begin?”

Liberty looked across at Google. “Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“I need that key Lib. I don't think I can defeat Mykur without it. I mean, look at me.”

“But who knows how hard these questions will be. It could be suicide,” Justice pointed out.

“Billions of lives are at risk if we don't get that key,” Google replied.

“Ok, we accept the challenge,” Justice told the hologram.

“And who shall be your nominated sacrifice should you answer a question wrong?”

“That would be me,” Justice replied.

“What!? We should discuss this first,” said Liberty.

“Come on sis, there's nothing to discuss and you know it. It can't be Google; I dare say we're not paying Jupiter enough to risk his life. And, well, we both know Google has a better chance of staying safe if he's with you.”

“But you don't get to...”

“We don't have time to argue,” Justice said, looking over at the clock counting down to the next 'Snow Show'. “Remember the family oath? We must do what's right, no matter the cost. Now, let's just make sure we answer the questions correctly.”

“Ok,” said Liberty a new look of determination coming across her face.

“Would the sacrifice please step this way,” said Alexander's hologram as a guillotine swiftly rose up out of the ground. “Now, simply rest your neck here. Should your team get a question wrong, it will be painless and quick. Hopefully.”

The lights dimmed and the game show music started up once again, sounding slightly more ominous this time.

“Okay, let's begin. Please choose a topic from the board.”

Liberty looked over at Justice, worried. “I guess you should get to choose, considering.”

Justice strained to see the board, now that his neck had been locked in place under the guillotine.

“I studied Arty History in the Academy – I choose that.”

“Arty History it is,” said the hologram happily. “Okay, first question: Who am I? Considered an arty icon in the late 20^th and early 21^st century, I was a popular singer, songwriter and occasional actress, most commonly known by just my first name.”

The group looked across at each other blankly, before Justice called out, “Madonna!”

“Correct. You may all step forward one space and choose another topic from the board.”

“There are more questions specialising in history – let's stick with that,” said Liberty.

“Very well. Question 2: The following are four celebrities from the 21^st century: Barack Obama. Paris Hilton. Tom Cruise. George Bush Jnr. Which one was later proven to have been a robot?”

Jupiter and the gang laughed, relieved to have been given such an easy question – quickly answering it and moving ahead one step.

“Okay. The next topic will be chosen by I,” said the hologram. “I select sports. Question 3: Which sport has the highest yearly death toll?”

Liberty turned to Jupiter, “Sports are a frivolous waste of time only enjoyed by simpletons and idiots - what's the answer?”

“Um, I don't know. It could be anything,” he replied.

“Do you think, maybe Deathball?” Google asked.

“No, that's pretty safe.”

“I need an answer please,” said the hologram.

Jupiter went pale, glancing across at the blade poised above Justice's neck.

“Um, Extreme Lawn Bowls?”

“Correct! Fun fact: More senior citizens die of heart attacks during Extreme Lawn Bowls than all other causes of heart attack combined.”

Justice breathed a sigh of relief as the rest of the group took a step forward.

“Very good. You're on the home stretch now. So what will it be next?”

“I think we should choose Famous Relic Hunters,” Jupiter told Liberty. However, before she could reply, the hologram interrupted.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot it's my turn again. I choose Science and Nature.”

A collective groan echoed around the dome.

“Question 4: Name three ways in which the Bonobo Ape is different from a Chimpanzee.”

Everyone turned to Jupiter.

“You just couldn't bring the damn monkey with us, could you?”

“What! This is not my fault! How was I supposed to know that'd be a question!”

“Can we phone a friend?” asked Google.

“It's not that sort of game I'm afraid. I need an answer now.”

“Uh, I think they're better at pac man...” said Jupiter.

“They're more peaceful, egalitarian and have a larger sexual repertoire,” Justice said quickly.

“That's four ways... but they're all correct. Very good. You may move ahead.”

The group walked one step closer, the piece of The Trinity Key just out of their grasp.

“Now the final question – you have a free pick of the board.”

“I choose Famous Relic Hunters,” said Jupiter.

The hologram went static. “The correct answer is 16 paintings.” The static then cleared and the hologram was normal again. “Okay, question five: In the 22^nd century, famous treasure hunter Jasper Jennings became the richest art collector in the galaxy when he located the priceless painting series Dogs Playing Poker. How many pieces were in the set?”

“16,” Liberty answered.

“Wait, you gave us the answer before you even asked the question. You told us the answer was 16,” Justice told the hologram.

“What are you doing!?” said Liberty annoyed. “Shut up!”

“Did I?” asked the hologram.

“Yes, you did,” answered Justice.

“I guess my programming must have glitched, because 16 is the correct answer. Hmm, I guess I'll just have to ask another question then... very well.”

“What? Are you trying to get killed!?” Liberty yelled at her brother.

“We can't cheat! That's what Mykur would do. We need to be better than that. Remember – no matter the cost,” he replied.

“Stop trying to make mum and dad proud, it's going to get you killed!”

The hologram coughed.

“Question five: What number am I thinking of?”

Justice swore.

Jupiter swore.

Liberty swore.

Google gulped.

“7?” answered Justice.

“Incorrect. Sorry, the correct answer was: 3.14159. Too bad!” said the hologram.

“Noooooooooooooooooooooo,” Liberty yelled, dropping to her knees as the blade sailed swiftly through Justice's neck.

“Ah... why aren't I dead?” asked Justice.

“You see, Google, you can't win,” said Prince Mykur with an evil grin. “Why, even with all the luck in the world, you couldn't manage a draw. The cards were stacked against you, and all you ever had was a losing hand,” he continued, before angrily tossing a piece of paper across the room – throne room #21.
“What's the matter, my lord?” asked Tonkins.
“Weren't you listening!? My victory monologue is awful! I don't want to bore him to death before I kill him.”
“But we've had some of our best poets and wordsmiths working on it, your majesty. They've followed your notes. Johanson wrote the latest draft himself.”
“Johanson – I've seen him on the entertainment shows; he always seems so happy, not a care in the world. Great writers aren't meant to be happy – they're meant to be brooding, depressed alcoholics! Have his wife murdered – let's see if that can't spark some progress. Now tell me, what is the latest news on Google?”

#

“It's freezing in here,” Liberty said, rubbing her arms to keep warm as she walked inside the dome, which covered an area roughly the size of a football field.
“What is this place?” asked Google, as he looked across the snow-filled enclosure. “It's like some sort of winter wonderland.”
“I guess it's an indoor ski centre – perhaps there isn't any natural snow on this world so they came here to ski,” Justice suggested.
“Echo!” shouted Google, enjoying the sound of their voices being reflected back off the dome's walls.
Jupiter nervously looked up at the roof – a good 150 metres above their heads.
“I've got a bad feeling about this,” he said.
“Oh come on, what's not to love?” asked Google.
At that moment, everything started to shake.
“Gravity storm! Run for the cabin,” Justice screamed over the noise.

The four run as fast as they could through the slush towards a single cabin that stood in the middle of the dome – closing the door just as the first flakes of snow shot off into the air. A second or two later they, too, went shooting upwards, smashing into the cabin's ceiling.
“I knew it!”
Jupiter tapped Liberty on the arm and pointed at something outside the window.
She looked out and saw a sign, proudly proclaiming: Welcome to the Largest Snow Dome in the Galaxy!
“You've got to be shitting me.”
“Look!” Google yelled, just as the rumbling stopped and he went smashing down onto a couch below. The group picked themselves up off the floor, Justice making sure Google was okay. Google waved away his concerns.
“I saw a trap door in the ground – I think it was meant to be hidden under the snow. Let's check it out," he said opening the cabin door.
They all steped outside, then paused in wonder to silently watch as the snow fell gently to the ground around them.

When the moment passed, Google led them to the area he thought he'd seen the door and directed them where to dig.
“Come on, we need to hurry – who knows when the next gravity storm will hit,” he said, as he jumped to the ground and started pushing the snow away frantically.
“It's ok. I think we've got just under 29 minutes,” replied Jupiter, pointing to a clock on the dome wall, counting down to the next 'Snow Show'.
“Here it is!” Liberty yelled as she dusted some snow away from a small trap door, no larger than ten centimetres. Lifting the lid, she discovered a red button.
“Press it!” said Google.
“Ah, what if it turns the gravity off?” Justice asked.
“Follow me, I've got an idea,” said Jupiter.
The four headed back into the cabin, standing at the doorway.
“So, what's your genius plan?” Liberty asked.
“This,” said Jupiter as he rolled up a snowball and threw it as hard as he could at the red button in the distance – eventually landing about 5 feet short.
“Ok – so it might take a little while,” he added, seconds before Liberty unleashed her own snow ball and hit it dead centre.
“Or not.”
“This is exciting!” yelled Google.
Liberty shot him a look.
“Well it is,” he said, sounding more subdued. “Look!”

From the far corner of the snow-filled dome, a man in a burgundy monk-like robe appeared and began to walk towards them. As he approached closer, Jupiter noticed the tall, thin, mystery man was occasionally flickering, like static on a tv screen.
“It's a hologram,” Justice noted before Jupiter could get a word out.
“Right you are, my friend,” responded the hologram. “Allow me to introduce myself – I am a computer representation of Alexander Vogel, programmed to think and respond as he most likely would.”
“I never knew the world's smartest man was a monk!” said Google. “I guess it makes sense – all the meditation and stuff.”
“A monk? Oh, you mean this?” said the hologram laughing, pointing to his robe. “This is merely my Snuggie – it's so comfortable. Really, it's just like wearing a blanket with sleeves.”
“World's smartest man?” Liberty muttered to Jupiter, who choked back a small laugh.
“We've come here for The Trinity Key, Mr Vogel,” Google said, ignoring them both.
“Very good. Congratulations on making it this far, my child. However, I must warn you, The Trinity Key posses a power that even someone with my vast intelligence cannot and could not fathom. When I hid my section of the key here, I had no conception that its innate power would magnify the force of the gravity suppressor in this snow dome. You've not doubt seen the horror and devastation that miscalculation caused. So, I ask you now, to consider very carefully – to really ponder and think: Are you sure you wish to pursue the Trinity Key?”
“Yep.”
“Of course.”
“Let's do it.”
“Duh.”

“In that case...,” the hologram clicked its fingers and the ground started to shake.
“It's another gravity storm, run!” yelled Google.
“Wait!” replied Justice, pointing into the distance as some objects rose up out of the white expanse. Finally the snow shifted away, revealing what appeared to be the set of a TV game show.
“It's time for: Who wants a piece of The Trinity Key?” said the hologram as game show music blasted from speakers scattered around the dome.
“The rules are simple – answer five questions correctly and a piece of the Trinity Key is yours. Answer one wrong and one of you dies. So, shall we play?” asked the hologram.
“Ah... just fill us in on that whole, one of us dies part. That seems a bit... extreme,” said Jupiter.
“Well, this is a test of your intelligence, is it not? You need to prove how smart you are under pressure. After all, possessing The Trinity Key could put your very lives in danger. I need to know it'll be in the hands of people up to the challenge,” said Alexander's hologram before smiling.

“Plus, I do think it makes the whole thing a lot more exciting, don't you?”