The Plasma Master

by Brian Rushton

  * * *

  The wall of impenetrable black metal stretched away in all directions to horizons so distant that they might not have existed at all. Only the faint starlight revealed the detail of the structure; an endless array of sensors, communication devices, and weapon systems stood witness to the perpetual night that cloaked the Anacronian fortress of Venom. Once, before the structure had been completed, an army had been foolish enough to attack the fortress. Its remains now formed an infinitesimal part of the completed spherical shell. From any other star system or deep space outpost in the galaxy the light that the star trapped within had given off long ago would still be visible, but that star had since been sealed off from the rest of the universe, and beyond that massive shell there was only darkness.

  There were some who would argue that there was only darkness within, as well.

  Several sets of doors the size of large moons permitted entrance into Venom’s interior to those few who were granted that privilege. The shell was only eight thousand miles thick, and nearly all of its inner surface was covered in black panels that absorbed the tremendous amounts of energy given off by the star, a virtually endless supply of power for the fortress. There were weapons here as well, but not as many as on the outside; it was so unlikely that anyone could ever breach Venom’s shell as to be considered impossible.

  Occasionally a ship would pass through one of the massive portals. Inside Venom’s shell it was a continuous day; the light from the distant star was always shining its light directly onto all parts of the shell, so that everywhere on its inner surface experienced the equivalent of noon on the planet Anacron’s equator. The scenery, however, was somewhat less than tropical. The inner shell immediately surrounding most of the doors was a depthless black; it absorbed nearly all of the stellar light that hit it, reflecting almost nothing.

  At one point on the inner surface of Venom’s shell was Anacron City, where the former inhabitants of the planet Anacron lived. The “city” was actually as large as a fourth of a planet’s surface area, but the inhabited part consisted largely of a vast, metallic landscape of enormous buildings. The Anacronians made the uninhabited part of the city as much like their former home as possible, and to a large degree they succeeded. They kept large, elaborate gardens and forests, and there were even some artificially-constructed mountains and lakes. The entire city was walled all around and protected by an immense force field that made certain that no air escaped, and after so much time the Anacronians had begun to accept this city as their home.

  The fortifications of Anacron City were nearly impenetrable, but directly across Venom’s shell was a structure even more impregnable. It rose from the black surface of the shell like a stormcloud, all gray and black and menacing. Dark Viper had meant it that way. He did not want anyone who saw the fortress to doubt for a moment what it was or who lived there. Four giant spires rose from the featureless landscape like fangs thrust through the skin of some hapless animal. There were no windows, but there were large, cavernous spaces in some of the towers into whose recesses no light penetrated, and out of these shown small pricks of red, green, or yellow. One might have thought they were the eyes of mysterious, powerful beasts; perhaps they were.

  Nothing of its appearance, though, showed even a fraction of what lay beneath.

  What lay beneath was the throne room of Anacronian Emperor Dark Viper. His loyal subjects might have doubted his motives in assuming control of the Empire had they seen the throne room in which he spent most of his time, but almost no one was allowed to do so. Set deep within Venom’s shell so that even if the entire main structure of the fortress were destroyed his realm would not be damaged, the man who had once been Trelan Thendrak sat alone. The room was cavernous, so that the walls could barely be discerned, but the space was dominated by a large platform at its center. Stairs led up to it and at its top sat a solitary chair. It was always turned away from the room’s entrance; it was considered somewhat of a privilege for the Emperor to even turn and face you, although those who had seen the man recently had not found the encounter particularly pleasant.

  Dark Viper sat there now, eyes closed, thinking. The war was going well. The StarBlazer Alliance was winning a few insignificant victories, but his plan was developing quickly and efficiently, and there was no doubt that it would be completed. Soon. The rebels could fight all they wanted, could destroy as many ships as they wished, but the fact remained that the Plasma force was his, and soon he would unleash it on his enemies and silence them forever. Soon he would destroy them all.

  His eyes opened. Once they had been filled with wisdom and caring, but now the memory of that time was all that was left. Now his eyes revealed nothing but patience, determination, and anger. And power.

  Dark Viper rose from his seat.

  His eyes were not all that had changed. He wore green, mail-like body armor, and a black cape was draped about his shoulders. His head was uncovered, and his hair, too, was black; although he had been alive for nearly fifty years, his body showed no visible signs of age at all. His face was drawn. His expression did not reveal anger or hatred or anything else, for, although those emotions were certainly present in the mind that raged behind those piercing eyes, his entire being was permeated as well with a sense of calm, a reassurance that nothing could stand against him.

  He had been contacted over twenty minutes ago, and whoever had done so was still waiting for him to respond. Now he reached over with his right hand and activated the viewscreen. The hand was sheathed in throbbing, green light.

  The screen took up most of the far wall, but now it showed nothing but blackness. A low, rough voice hissed out of the void.

  “Dark Viper.”

  The Emperor smiled.

  The inhuman voice continued. “I have learned something of interest. A few days ago a hyperspace vortex was discovered some distance from the Anacron homeworld. A rebel ship chased a fleet of Yendarian fighters through it and destroyed them.”

  Viper was somewhat annoyed. “I am aware of this.”

  The voice did not slow or change inflection. “They did not return alone. There is a boy from the other side, one who has … power.” The speaker stopped, letting the implications work themselves into the Emperor’s mind.”

  “The Crystal,” he said finally. For the first time in years there was genuine concern on his face. “Where is he?”

  “The boy does not fully understand his power. Gerran Marnax sent him to the Uraxis Nebula. There he is to…”

  “DOOM!” shouted Dark Viper, clenching his fist. “Doom on that fool Marnax! Doesn’t he know that he can never defeat me? Can’t he see that there is no power greater in the universe than mine? When did they leave?”

  “Marnax is keeping very silent about the matter. They left three days ago. The ship is the Green Scorpion. It should reach the nebula today.”

  Dark Viper was incredulous. “He left three days ago and you learned of this now?”

  The other’s hiss just might have been a laugh. “And when did you find out, Emperor?”

  Viper’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What is the boy’s name?”

  The voice hissed again. “His name is Nedward Simmons.”

  Dark Viper deactivated the viewscreen and sat back down, thinking again. It would take Rax and Dren nearly a week to reach the Uraxis Nebula, a little more for the invasion force, which would have to be small, given the situation with the war. But when they got there it would be over soon. Within ten days Nedward Simmons would either be a servant of the Emperor or be dead.