What is PK?  Click here to find out. Hell Here Copyright 2006 "Entry date," the gruff male voice spoke, words broken only by the type of cough one develops when Death looms near enough to touch one's heart with an icy finger, "June sixth of three thousand-six." He chuckled, earning himself a burst of pain from the cauterized wound, pencil thick, upon the right side of his chest. "I was never a religious man and used to make fun of those who were scared of the triple six. I never had a reason to fear that particular number but now I have every reason; today is the sixth day of the sixth month of the sixth year since we left Earth to colonize the planet Ridell." "Little pig," a female voice taunted from the other side of the door that separated the space station's bridge from the main corridor, "little pig, let me in." "Only death awaits you Cordelia." The man warned as his right hand slid down to the shiny and sleek piece of stainless steel holstered upon his hip. "I'll send you to join your brother in Hell." Cordelia cackled; a shrill chicken cluck that sent waves of ice dancing down his spine, raised gooseflesh upon his arms and drove slivers of glass into his brain. "Oh Johnathon," Cordeila purred, "you don't even know what Hell is." Johnathon turned toward the large window that spanned most of the bridge and looked upon Ridell. Long gone were the blue oceans, the telltale greens, browns and whites of the land masses and the miles of cloud coverage. Now the oceans were the color of molten lava, the lands reminded him of gangrenous flesh and the polar caps, East and West, were like blood. For one brief moment he swore he saw a phantom face upon the cancerous surface of the planet, a face that gave him a knowing wink. "I know better than you think Cordelia." He turned his back to Ridell but he could feel the eyes burrowing into the back of his skull. "Hell is your real life gone wrong." "Join us Johnathon." She requested. "It was wrong of Robert to attempt an insurrection but he didn't understand what had been requested of him. He was young and stupid," she confessed, "but his mind was incapable of putting two and two together. I know what he did to you and none of us blames you for killing him; fight or flight, eh commander?" He made no attempt to reply. "That temple was our Holy Grail. We found truth on Ridell and now we walk the path of light." Johnathon shuddered when the interior of the bridge filled with a brilliant red-orange light. He turned toward the window and saw the planet had reached the next stage of its metamorphosis; cocooned in a sphere of fire, a womb inside some unholy demon waiting to birth an unspeakable monstrosity upon the unsuspecting galaxy. "Walk with us Johnathon." Cordelia continued. "The Master can heal all wounds. She has promised us knowledge that we are to share with Earth and her colonies." A searing pain exploded from the plasma wound upon his chest. His vision began to double, treble and swim; waves of vertigo unhinged the pins within his knees and sent him crashing to the floor. He brought his left hand up to the wound and found it had healed. When his visiion cleared he looked down and his eyes confirmed his hand's discovery. "You see?" Cordelia asked. "She loves unconditionally and gives freely. She is the true face of evolution and the Gateway to Paradise." Johnathon stood and looked once more upon the planet. His stomach gave a violent lurch threatening to give him an encore of his scrambled eggs, hash browns and turkey bacon. He brought a hand up to his mouth, more to stifle a scream than barricade the insurrecting food, when he looked upon the visage of a flaming skull. His subconscious leapt forward and took control of his right hand, guiding it toward the master console. Johnathon knew what he was doing, he was calling forth the one command sequence he hoped and prayed would never need activating. Within the silence, which filled the gap between heart beats, his mind's eye saw the complete and total destruction of their Asimovian society. The corruption, which had lain dormant within Ridell until that very morning, spread like wildfire across the three hundred plus colonized planets; a massive genocide that would continue to spread until chaos reigned supreme. "What do you say Johnathon? Are you going to let me in?" His free hand joined its partner in finalizing the salvation that would free the damned from the ancient deity's grasp. Johnathon replied, "Not by the hair on my chinny-chin-chin." "Then I'll huff, I'll puff and blow the door in." "Self-destruct," a computerized voice announced, "in T-minus thirty seconds." "Final entry," Johnathon spoke in a calm voice over the din of frantic shouting, rhythmic pounding and unfeeling counting in reverse, "Hell here. Send to HQ." He closed his eyes, drew in one final breath and waited.     Red marble background and Chrome Button Links by JD using Corel Paint Shop Pro X.