The opening to this one is pretty weak. Other then that, I had fun with this one. And by fun, I mean I had morbid terror writing this.
Review replies;
Movie-Brat: Well, his style is indeed awesome. *nod* Thanks for reading!
unknown20troper: I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for reviewing!
Cartooniac55: No problem, amigo [/stereotypical Mexican]. I like writing Squidward. Thanks for the review!
Zim'sMostLoyalServant: Hmm, the Necronomicon sounds like a good read :P. Thanks very much!
09/10/10 – A Terrible Thing to Lose
The Syndicate, it turned out, were not doing a deal with the devil.
On the contrary, a deal with the devil would have been much more moral.
Vlad was not present, having refused to even partake in such madness. Plankton and Crocker sat back and watched as Calamitous grinned and shook hands with the multi-eyed bug creature.
"I must thank you for helping us, Mr…" he began.
"WE ARE TERMINUS," the bug replied in a deep voice.
"We?" quizzed Plankton, confused.
"THIS IS MERELY A VESSEL," the bug boomed, "WHAT WE KNOW AS A COLLECTOR. OUR REAL MIGHT IS VASTLY SUPERIOR."
"Fair enough," shrugged Plankton, "If you're so 'vastly superior', why are you helping us?"
"WE ARE MAROONED IN THIS UNIVERSE," replied the bug, "WE REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE TO RETURN TO OUR OWN."
Plankton nodded.
"WE WILL BE DONE WITHIN THE WEEK. YOU WILL HAVE YOUR AGENT," droned the bug.
Then there was an electrical zap, and it was gone.
The telephone began to ring. Sandy walked over to it and picked it up.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Yes," a British-accented voice replied, "You wouldn't awfully mind checking something out for us with that rocket of yours, would you? We think we've found a craft, you might want to make contact…"
The giant, bug-like craft would have easily been noticed, were it not hanging around the back of Jupiter.
Sandy looked over from the console in the cockpit to the ship, and gave a whistle. It was certainly imposing. Weird, but imposing.
She spoke into the comm. unit.
"This is Sandy Cheeks representing Earth, do you copy, out?"
"YOUR GULLIBILITY FAILS TO SURPRISE ME, ORGANIC."
"Gullibility?"
"IT IS IN YOUR NATURE. YOU ARE ALWAYS TACKLING THE UNKNOWN, NEVER AWARE OF YOUR EVENTUAL INGLORIOUS FATE."
The giant ship fired a probe, which latched itself to Sandy's vessel.
"TAKE THAT BACK TO EARTH, IF YOU SO DESIRE," the radio rumbled, "I HAVE NO FURTHER USE FOR YOU HERE."
Sandy glared at the ship, not sure wether to keep talking or go home.
She decided on the latter and turned around.
Sandy sat at her picnic table, the probe sitting on the grass nearby. It was a strange thing, a simple red cube with no discernable way of disassembly. What exactly was it?
She got up, and looked over it. It seemed strangely compelling – like a work of art, or a particularly well-spoken person. Except this was a box, nothing more, nothing less.
Slowly, she put her hand on it. It felt like some kind of metal, a little cold, certainly nothing special, and yet the feeling felt good to her. She didn't know why – maybe it was connected to the magnetism of the box.
Taking her hand off the box, she decided to try and open it. This, as it turned out, was easier said then done. Her blowtorch did nothing – in fact, neither did lasers, and those usually cut anything.
"What in tarnation are you?" mused Sandy.
She looked up. The sun was setting, and the ocean above the Treedome was a soft gold and red. It was getting late, she decided. She'd grab a bite to eat and turn in. She could worry about a box in the morning.
Dinner was uneventful, and Sandy was about to turn in when the phone rang. Absently, Sandy picked up the phone.
"Yup?" she asked.
"Hi Sandy!" said Spongebob, brightly, "I was just wondering if you wanted to come over for a little karate tomorrow?"
"You're on," grinned Sandy, "Just be warned, I ain't gonna go easy on ya."
"That's OK, I've been training!" replied Spongebob.
"Well, gotta go," finished Sandy, rolling her eyes, "I've been working on Terminus' box all day and I'm pooped. See ya tomorrow!"
Sandy hung up and entered her bedroom.
She was unaware that she'd never actually learned Terminus' name.
Sandy returned mid-afternoon the next day, having had a relatively good day. Spongebob hadn't improved, despite his claim of training, but they'd had fun, and that was all that mattered.
Sandy hung up her airsuit and glanced at the box. It was still beckoning her – part of her mind had been on it all day. Weird.
She thought back to the ship in space…a Reaper, wasn't it?
Yes, that was it.
Sitting down at the table again, Sandy thought it over.
"So," she repeated to herself, "A Reaper, who's name is Terminus, gave me this probe…but why?"
She rubbed her head. It wasn't that she'd had a headache, far from it. In fact, her head felt pretty good. Her brain was coming up with ideas more often then usual – she was in the mood for some inventing.
What she couldn't put her head on – and what felt somewhat wrong – was that some of the ideas she was getting were not…in character, if you will.
They were ideas of superiority, that if a machine race advanced enough existed, then organics would no longer be required…or useful.
She shook such ideas out of her head, and walked into her lab, humming a tune.
The next day, Sandy woke up feeling much more relaxed then usual. She thought nothing of it, as she'd gone to bed pretty early last night.
Her body seemed to be on autopilot as she went down to get breakfast, as she inattentively chewed on her thoughts.
So Terminus, the Reaper, sent her a probe, a box. That she knew.
She also knew that the Reapers, as a whole, desired the complete annihilation of all organic space-fairing civilisations, due to the inherent inferiority of biological creatures. That goal seemed admirable enough.
As she ate her cereal, she thought on her part in this master plan, on how she could help…
Sandy choked on her cereal and spat it out.
What was she thinking?
Getting up from her seat and dashing to the bathroom, Sandy cowered over her sink and looked in the mirror.
"Why am thinking about that stuff?" she demanded, "What the heck's wrong with me?"
The obvious problem, her brain told her, was that she was an organic, and therefore, everything was wrong with her. Alright then.
No. Not alright.
Storming outside, Sandy grabbed the box and shoved it onto her jeep, before driving away down the road.
She drove for a long time, knowing perfectly well where she was going. It was the place known as make-out reef – she'd fallen off the cliff there once, and now she intended to make something else fall.
Arriving at the reef, Sandy parked, and took the box. She stood over the cliff and held the box over it.
"This ends here," she snarled.
She tried to let go.
Her head was in chaos. One side of her head was clambering to hold onto the box, to let its mission be completed. The other side wanted to drop it, to let it smash at the bottom, to never think of it again.
Finally, one side won.
Sandy stepped back from the cliff and gently set down the box.
Then she curled into a ball and began to sob.
Indoctrination.
That's what they called it.
The slow erosion of the mind, the creation of a mindless slave to the Reapers. The most monstrous act committable.
Sandy knew her mind was collapsing. As she worked in her lab, she felt like her brain was a melting mess.
Memories had vanished, replaced by large holes. Not just little things, mind you – everything before the last seven years was a clouded mess. She remembered she'd come from Texas, but where in Texas? Who were her parents, her family? Why did she come to Bikini Bottom?
With nothing left to fall back on, the small, slowly dying remnant of her mind had latched onto one, somewhat delirious idea.
It was fate, destiny that brought her here. Destiny that made her, rather literally, a fish out of water.
Despite not remembering a thing about life before it, Sandy could confidently say that those had been the best years of her life.
If this worked, those years could continue.
If it didn't, her mind would disappear, she'd be a slave forever and she'd probably end up murdering or enslaving the entire city.
The science she was using was shaky at best. She'd remembered telling Jimmy about the theory once – he'd gone on a half-hour tirade on its impossibility. It was all she had left to fall on, however, so damn everything, she'd try.
She just needed to do something first. She picked up her phone and dialled a number.
"Hello?"
"Hey Spongebob," replied Sandy, her voice rasping.
"Hi! Err…are you OK? You sound sick," stated Spongebob.
"I…I'll be fine," lied Sandy, "Listen, I…I just wanted to tell you something."
"…"
"You still there, Spongebob?" asked Sandy.
"What's wrong?" asked Spongebob, nervously.
"I just wanted to tell you…"
Sandy let out a deep breath.
"…I love ya, Spongebob."
There was a brief pause.
"Sandy, what's going on?" demanded Spongebob, sounding frightened, "You're not dying or anything, are you?"
"I wish I was," chuckled Sandy, humourlessly.
She made to hang up.
"Wait! What's going on? SAN-"
The phone was hung up.
Sandy looked at the device, sitting on her bench. It was now or never.
"You think you'd got me, huh, varmit?" she growled, "Not a chance."
She held her mitten over a large red button.
"Ya see, we on Earth have a concept," she continued, "It's called a soul. Lot a people say it don't exist, and there ain't no-one who can explain it, but its there…and it's something you don't have."
She pressed the button.
"Have fun with your puppet, Terminus," she sneered, "I'm outta here."
She gave a slightly delirious laugh as a blue aura covered her body. The laugh faded as she collapsed, landing in a heap on the lab floor.
She, or at least her body, woke up five hours later.
She thought nothing. There was nothing to think. Her mind had eroded – there was nothing but orders from the Reapers.
Terminus' orders were simple – work as an agent for 'the Evil Syndicate', in hope that they could produce a method of returning to the home universe. Once that happened, there would be nothing.
There was just one major problem.
Terminus wasn't there.
Jimmy looked at his lab screen and grinned.
"Well, there we go," he nodded, "World destroying sentient spacecraft is gone. Thank Einstein for multi-dimensional travel."
"Thank you Einstein," deadpanned Timmy, leaning against the wall, "Can we go home now?"
"I don't get it," mused Danny, looking warily at the screen, "Who tipped us off? How did anyone know that there was a death-ship in the middle of the solar system?"
"Who knows?" shrugged Timmy, "Good for them, I guess. Now, where's Spongebob?"
"Oh, he's just…busy," replied Jimmy.
Spongebob had arrived at Sandy's place at first light (the only reason he hadn't come earlier was that he'd nearly burnt his house down; he'd been cooking at the time she'd called). Finding her totally unresponsive to anything he did, he was now trying to spoon-feed her breakfast as she stared blankly into space.
"Forget it, Spongebob. She's gone."
Spongebob cringed at the voice, and turned to the door.
"What do you mean she's…"
Spongebob froze.
A metallic figure stood at the door. Its shape was somewhat mechanical, somewhat akin to an XJ-unit, yet it was very, very familiar.
"Sandy?" gasped Spongebob.
"Howdy," nodded Sandy.
There was a long silence.
"Why are you a robot?" asked Spongebob, at last.
"Transferred my…soul, I guess, into this," replied Sandy, "You can thank Jimmy for that. He made it in about three hours. Guy can really spin a good 'bot, can't he?"
"Yeah," nodded Spongebob.
Sandy glanced outside.
"So, I noticed the box was gone," continued Sandy, "Pity I didn't think to tell Jimmy earl-"
Sandy was taken aback as Spongebob wrapped her into a hug, tears in his eyes. He was yelling incomprehensibly about thinking she was dead.
She chuckled.
"We'll talk about that when I get back in my own body," she grinned.
"'Kay," sniffed Spongebob, "J-just one thing. Did you mean what you said last night on the phone? When you said you…"
Sandy gave a grin.
"I meant it."
It was good to be back.
If the happy ending seems tacked on, well, this was really depressing and terrifying me. Maybe I'm just a chicken. :D