by M. K. Gibson
“Why you smell like throw-up, Daddy?”
“Uncle Randy can’t drive very well.”
“I know.” She giggled.
I sat in the chair next to Randy and saw the serious look on his face.
“How bad is it?”
Randy looked over his shoulder at Evie, then back at me. “Bad. There’s more than twenty fighters and two cruisers. This was a setup. They were waiting for us at the jump gate.”
“Dominion?”
“Not likely,” Randy said. “They don’t employ pirates. Someone else set this up. Maybe Hermov?”
“No,” I said with a shake of my head. “He may be pissed off, but he wouldn’t move on me, not like this.”
“Then our only option is to outrun them,” Randy said, flicking through the ship’s nav-computer. “There’s a planet a few light years away called Crissus. It’s not aligned with any faction and all around it are electromagnetic solar storms. We can try and hide in that and then make a break for another jump gate.”
I too looked back at Evie, who continued to draw with her crayons, oblivious to what was happening.
“Do it.”
Randy nodded and opened up the fusion engines. We rocketed through space with the pirates on our tail, firing blast after blast, missile after missile. Randy’s gunship rattled and shook with each attack. On the control panel readout I could see the shield strength lowering with each hit.
“How far until this planet?” I asked.
“A little while longer.”
“Can we make it?”
Randy looked at the shield levels. His face darkened but he said nothing.
“I can’t do anything about them with my power,” I said.
“I know.” Randy nodded. “You’re a visiting consultant to this universe and don’t have full access to your power. Lowering our shields isn’t intending you mortal harm. But by the time the shields go down . . .”
“It might be too late,” I said, finishing Randy’s line of thought.
“There!” Randy said, pointing at the view screen. “Crissus! We made it.”
The planet Randy pointed at was an ugly purple and yellow rock. All around it, visible cosmic storms raged in gassy nebulas. Unsightly as it may have been, salvation never looked more beautiful.
“All we have to do is--” Randy said, then stopped. “Oh, no. No no no!”
“What?”
“Cloaked ship!”
I snapped my eyes up. Dead ahead, a pirate warship suddenly came into view. As it did, a cluster of concussion missiles fired on us. Randy’s ship shuddered and rocked harder than before. An alarm went off.
Our shields were down.
I turned in my seat. “Evie, no matter what happens, Daddy loves you very much.”
“I know, Daddy,” she said.
A swirl of strange energy suddenly coalesced around my daughter. A second later, she was gone.
“Evie?! EVIE!!”
“More missiles!” Randy screamed.
I looked up just in time to see the missiles on the viewscreen. A second later, they collided with our unshielded ship. The explosions ripped through Randy’s ship, tearing away metal and decompressing several compartments.
“Hang on!” Randy screamed as he did his best to pilot the rapidly disintegrating ship towards the planet. “We’re going to crash!”
In only a matter of seconds we were a hunk of debris, caught by the planet’s gravity. Through the viewport, I saw waves of intense heat as we entered the upper atmosphere.
Out of desperation, I reached out with my power. Focusing my will, I fought back against the power of a planet that was trying to burn us alive. I felt the immense heat and pressure as if it bore into my very being.
But I focused on the one thing that mattered.
My Evie.
I would survive. I had to.
Because I was going to find and kill the motherfuckers who took my daughter.
And that was the last thought I had before the power of a planet and a crashing starship pushed me into blackness.
Chapter Six
Where I Appreciate Art, Reward Homework, and Call for a Ride
I was in the dark.
I was at the bottom of a dark well of never-ending pain. It would have been easy to just . . . let go. The endless oblivion waited for me with cold, open arms. All I had to do was step towards it.
No. I don’t quit. Ever. I’m the goddamn Shadow Master, not France.
In the distance I heard a sound. Something calling to me. I stood on the edge of death and looked into the abyss. And the abyss looked back at me.
Inky bastard even had the gall to wink at me.
Why don’t you just give in and end the pain, Jackson?
Sorry, not this day, I told Death. Plus, you still owe me fifty bucks from the last poker game.
I’m good for it.
“Uncle Jackson? Uncle Jackson?”
Sorry, I have to run, I told Death. I hear the sound of a moron calling.
I hear ya, brother. You should see my social media. Full of idiots.
A hand slapped me across the face.
“Uncle Jackson, are you alive?!”
Slap.
“Uncle Jackson!”
“If you slap me again,” I grumbled as my eyes flickered open, “I will compel you to sew your own asshole closed. Do you understand me?”
“I’m just glad to see you’re not dead,” Randy said as he helped me into a sitting position.
“Somehow, I doubt that,” I groaned.
I hurt from head to toe. Keeping the ship together and fighting the planet’s gravity had depleted nearly all of my power. Deep down, I felt almost nothing left, having burned through my own reserves and focus items.
Shit.
Rubbing at my eyes, I let reality come into focus.
The ship was absolutely wrecked. As the last bits of my residual power dissipated, I could feel the devastation. From where I was sitting, the cockpit was nearly sheared off. Outside I saw several ringed moons hanging high and large across the darkening purple sky.
Part of me wanted to think it was beautiful, and to appreciate the grand vision of an alien world. But with how I was feeling, all I could muster was the same detached amusement one gave boardwalk airbrush artists. You know, the ones who do space scenes and howling wolves as they waste their talents and their useless art degrees.
The landscape beyond the crash site was rocky and barren, colored in shades of light brown and sickly green. I imagined the planet looked like a crusty booger floating in infinite space.
“You saved us,” Randy said.
I didn’t answer him.
“Uncle Jackson?”
Beside me was a piece of paper. I picked it up and looked at the crayon drawing Evie had been working on. It was of me. I was holding her in one arm while shooting aliens with some kind of blaster.
I felt my throat tighten and my eyes grow misty.
Not at the art—that was complete shit. Let’s be frank, it looked like it was drawn by a kid. I applaud the effort, but she had years to go before she would be considered even remotely good.
And don’t give me that look. Fawn over your wretched spawn’s stick figure and blob art all you want. While I encourage her talents, I expect quality. But you go ahead and do it your way. We’ll see whose kid is serving whose french fries in twenty years.
No, the reason I was overcome with emotion was because in the picture, little Evie was looking up at me with a smile. She’d drawn my patented smirk as I laid waste to our enemies.
“Uncle Jackson, we need to come up with a plan for getting out of here.”
She trusted me completely. She trusted that I would keep her safe. That I would always be there to save her.
“Jackson, damn it. Can you hear me? Pull your head out of your ass. We need the Shadow Master right now, not a sad sack.”
I folded the drawing and put it in my suit’s inner left pocket, then stood up.
I reached out, grabbed my nephew by his throat, and slammed the taller man up against the bulkhead of the wrecked ship. I didn’t have much power left, but I didn’t need it. Not for this.
“U-uncle--” Randy gasped. “C-can’t . . . b-breathe.”
“Did you take her?” I growled, my voice a little above a whisper.
“W-what? W-who?”
I pulled Randy forward slightly, then slammed his head back hard. “Evie. Did. You. Take. Her.”
“No!” Randy gasped. His face was turning slightly blue, but I didn’t care.
“You’ve tried, twice, to destroy me,” I said coldly. “And twice, you’ve failed. How do I know this isn’t your latest attempt to hurt me?”
“S-soul . . . bind!” Randy blurted. “I c-can’t. I-I’m innocent.”
I threw Randy down. He was right.
The soul bind contract he was under prevented him from directly, or indirectly, causing me, my business, or my family harm. My emotional response prevented me from thinking clearly. Somewhere in another timeline, me from book one wants to kick my ass for allowing feelings and family into my life.
I looked down at Randy, who was still coughing and trying to suck in air. “What’s your problem? Come on, up. Chop chop. You said you had a plan?”
“Y-yeah,” Randy grimaced, rubbing at his throat. “I do.”
“Well, let’s hear it,” I said as I walked outside of the hole in the ship’s cargo hold. The night was fully up, and in the distance I heard alien animals howling. A soft phosphorescent nimbus started to shine on the horizon. This alien world had a mystery about it, like the beginning of good book.
That’s when I saw the ground swell and felt a rumble beneath us. Something was moving under the soil and sand. Yup, I needed to get the hell out of here and find my daughter.
I knew what I had to do.
Randy came to stand beside me. “What’s your idea?”
“See those lights out there?” Randy asked, pointing to the horizon.
“Yeah?”
“According to my nav computer, that’s Wyman’s Hole. A sleazy spaceport full of pirates and smugglers.”
I raised an eyebrow and looked back at him. “Seriously, a sleazy spaceport? Why don’t you just quote the damn Star Wars line.”
“I didn’t write the tropes,” Randy said. “I just follow them like how you taught me.”
I sighed. “Fine. Continue.”
Randy nodded, then inclined his head back towards the wreckage of his ship. “She won’t fly, and the port’s too far to make it tonight. Despite looking close, with the rough terrain, and the fact that this planet is bigger than earth, which makes the horizon line longer, that’s easily a two-day walk.”
“Hmm.” I grunted at the information while I knelt down and picked up a chalky white rock. Scratching it against the ground, I was pleased to see that it marked the other rocks easily. I started walking around the immediate area, drawing on the ground.
“So the trip will be rough,” Randy explained. “But I think we have enough provisions to make it over halfway if we leave at first light tomorrow. We make camp, and sleep in shifts. The computer listed several nasty predators between us and the port.”
“Predators, sounds rough,” I murmured while I continued making my marks.
“And that’s the easy part,” Randy said with a nod. “Once we get into Wyman’s Hole, things will get bad. I checked the flight logs. The pirates who attacked us were from the Gunjaar Horde. But the pirates who claim this planet fly under the banner of Fellway’s Frontiersmen. The two do not like one another at all. If the Frontiersmen realize that it was the Gunjaar who attacked us, they may think there is value to us. So we have to come up with a good cover story.”
“Gunjaar. Frontiersmen,” I muttered while I worked.
“If we can find an unaffiliated skipper—and that’s a big if—then we can book passage. We don’t have much in the way of trade, so we’ll have to get creative once we’re there. Once aboard, we can commandeer the ship, fly to the nearest jump gate, and get back to my dimension. From there, you simply have to walk over to yours. The whole thing should take . . . a few weeks?”
“I see,” I said, not really listening as I examined my work. It looked correct, but it’d been a while since I attempted this.
“What are you doing?” Randy asked, looking at the symbols I’d drawn.
“Warding glyphs,” I said. “If we’re staying the night here, then I want rest and peace of mind.”
I lit one of my cigarettes and then passed one to Randy, who blinked in surprise. “Really?”
“We’re in an alien world. You’ve done your homework. You’ve earned it,” I said while I triple checked the symbols.
“Thanks, Uncle Jackson,” Randy said, taking a puff from the expensive and exotic cigarette.
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you think they’ll work? The glyphs? You have to be low on power after all of that.”
“I am,” I agreed. “But you’re not,” I added, slamming the rock in my hand against his skull.
Randy’s knees buckled. He dropped the cigarette as he fell to the hard alien ground. I picked up the smoke, took two puffs, and flicked it away. Waste not, want not.
“U-uncle--”
“Shh,” I said, reaching down and slamming the rock even harder on his head.
Randy’s eyes rolled back and the blood from the head wound ran freely. As the blood seeped into the ground, the glyphs began to flare to life with purple, black, and orange light.
I stood up and held my arms out wide, dropping the bloody rock. I cleared my throat and announced loudly, “I accuse you, Randolph Blackwell, of stealing my daughter. For that crime, you were innocent. Yet, you die. Therefore, I offer the soul of an innocent. Come forth, denizen of the Never Realm, come forth and claim your prize.”
Magical energy zipped across the glyphs, intersecting in such a way to form a nine-pointed star. A gate between planes flickered into life, and from it I heard the gnashing of teeth and the wailing of the suffering.
It was just like Twitter.
Monstrous red and black muscular arms burst forth from the burning star. The arms heaved and pulled the rest of their master forward as Y’ollgorath, Exalted One from the seventh plane of the Never Realm, peered into this realm with his five yellow eyes.
Those eyes scanned the area until they saw me. The demon smiled.
“Jackson?”
“Hey there, Y’olly. Care if I hitch a ride home?”
Chapter Seven
Where I Chat With a Friend, Ponder Astrophysics, and Take an Oath
Y’ollgorath stood an impressive fifteen feet tall on his reverse-jointed legs. His barbed serpentine tail swished back and forth while his black wings stretched the reddish translucent membranes to their full width. Y’ollgorath’s horns were black and smooth, curling like a ram’s. His head was bald and his mouth opened to reveal razor-sharp teeth and a forked snake’s tongue.
Fortunately, he was wearing clothes this time. He often liked to appear nude if for no other reason than to mess with anyone who would be shocked by a barbed demon wang swinging around.
“Jackson?” the denizen of the Never Realm repeated. “You summoned me?”
“Yeah, appears so.” I smiled as I lit two cigarettes and passed one to the demon.
“Thanks,” Y’olly said as he took a puff. “So what’s the problem?”
“Stranded,” I said.
“That sucks,” Y’olly said as he looked around the bizarre alien landscape. “So what in the name of all that is unholy are you doing in Stella Primus?”
“I was working a contract.”
Y’olly quirked an eye at me. “I thought you hated space opera?”
“More than you could ever know,” I sighed. “And my hate grows exponentially the longer I spend here.”
; “Tell me about it,” Y’olly said, smoking the cigarette. “People think the fantasy realms are rife with hand waving and contrivance. But space opera? The entire premise is one massive flaw.”
“I know.” I nodded. “It’s like people don’t grasp how mind-bogglingly big space really is. Actually finding intelligent life outside of yourself is like mathematically impossible.”
The demon nodded. “It’s like people never heard of The Drake Equation or the Fermi Paradox.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You follow such astrophysics?”
Y’olly waved his hand with a dismissive gesture. “Gods below, no. I just follow anything that brings madness and misery to others. Nerds like Drake and Fermi spelled out how near impossible it is for mankind to find alien life. It will take such an incredible amount of time, scientific advancement, sacrifice, and evolution for mankind to even hope to find extraterrestrial life. That amount of wasted time and wasted lives brings a big ol’ smile to my face.”
I smiled. “Too bad mankind doesn't realize it’s only part of a vast multiverse.”
Y’olly nodded in agreement. “Imagine if all the scientists in the Prime Universe knew that beings like you and me use magic to hop where we need to, science be damned.”
Both Y’olly and I laughed aloud in unison. Mocking the common folk was always amusing. But mocking the “brilliant”? Oh, that really made us laugh.
“So, how about it?” I asked as the laughter died down. “Can you take me home through the Never Realm? We had that transit connection set up a while back in case of emergencies.”
“You know the rules,” Y’olly said, crossing his muscular arms. “You have to offer something of great value for such a favor. A great sacrifice.”
I crossed my arms, mirroring the demon’s stance. It was clear we were in negotiation mode.
“I summoned you here by enacting the ancient rite. I am offering the Soul of an Innocent.”
Y’olly squinted his eyes and then looked past me at the offering circle. The demon nodded at the construction and it seemed he found the glyph formation acceptable. Then the big demon’s jaw went slack and he began to shake his head.
