by M. K. Gibson
“Come on, boss,” Myst said, helping me to my feet.
“Thank you,” I told my shapeshifting minion.
“We gotta split now. This crowd is gonna thin out any second. After that, we’re sitting ducks.”
“Relax,” I told her. “I have a plan.”
Myst tapped me where the Doxian’s blast had hit me. My duster and shirt were burned pretty badly, and there was a serious bruise forming on my chest. “As good a plan that gave you this?”
“Touché,” I said with a slight nod. “But just give this one a chance. I do so want to see the looks on their faces.”
I pulled both of my heavy blasters and stood behind Myst, firing at anything that even looked like a Gunjaar.
Don’t judge me. Her form made her nearly impervious to all energy weapons. What would you do?
But despite my shooting from the ground, and Lydia sniping from a distance, more and more of the Gunjaar seemed to flood into the bazaar like extras.
Yup, totally a bad kung-fu movie. In space. See why sci-fi sucks?
In moments, all the civilians had cleared out, leaving us standing there in the open as we faced off against dozens of the Horde.
One of the Gunjaar, a brawny Bhath A’khal, stepped up from the gathered attackers. The ruddy, bearded brute resembled a dwarf from a fantasy realm. But instead of being around four feet tall, the Bhath A’khal topped out at six and a half feet. In heavy, futuristic armor, the spacefaring barbarian approached. He carried a ceremonial combat staff, complete with a glowing vibro-blade on one end and a miniature fusion cannon on the other. He stopped a few paces ahead of his friends and called out to me across the empty bazaar.
“This is over, whoever you are,” the Bhath A’khal boomed. “You killed one of our greatest captains and in one of our lairs. You are going to die this day--”
“Yup,” I called back. Getting on my knees, I raised my hands above my head.
“You . . . what are you doing?” the confused Gunjaar asked.
“Yeah, what are you doing?” Myst hissed.
“We are surrendering,” I said to both my minion and the Gunjaar. I nodded towards my side and Myst reluctantly joined me on the ground.
She too raised her hands and whispered, “This better be good.”
I had to repress a smile. “It is clear that you’ve bested us. I, and my allies, are no match for you.”
“Speak for yourself, husband,” Lydia said in my earpiece. “Say the word and I’ll ventilate his skull.”
“We here will offer you no further resistance,” I said with my best stage voice, hoping that Lydia picked up on my message. “But before you kill us, please, allow a dead man one last chance to speak.”
“Make it count,” the Bhath A’khal said, turning his combat staff around so that the cannon end was facing me.
I nodded. “Thank you. I am Jackson Blackwell. Your deceased captain attacked me a few weeks ago. She kidnapped my daughter and left me to die. But I survived. And in that time, getting her back was the only thing on my mind.”
I heard Lydia sniff over the comm, “Apparently so were Never Realm hookers.”
“Shush,” I said into the comm. “I understand your need for vengeance. But you must also understand mine. My child is still out there.”
“You finished?” the Bhath A’khal sneered.
Well, so much for appealing to their good nature. “I am,” I said. “I have but one last thing to say. In my world, there is a legend of a coyote that was wily. This creature’s pursuit of an incredibly fast bird was his life’s work. But in all that time, the coyote never learned one invaluable lesson.”
“Which was?” the Bhath A’khal asked as a shadow fell over his face.
“That in order to avoid the anvil that constantly fell on his head, once in a while, he needed to look up.”
Before the Gunjaar could ask me what in the holy hell I was talking about, my trans-dimensional ship, The Zenith Umbra, decloaked above the open-air market. The sleek silver and black starship turned broadside and a bay door opened. Then, nearly eight tons of fun fell from the sky, directly on the Gunjaar’s head.
Wraith Knight, now resembling a futuristic battle droid conceived of by some vaginally deprived artist, landed on the Bhath A’khal, turning the proud being of a noble warrior race into a hot, wet pile of bantha-poo-doo. In his hands, my armored thrall held a massive, fully automatic ion cannon.
“Hey there, boss,” Wraith Knight bellowed in a synthesized voice. “Sorry we’re late. Sophia had the ship’s parking brake on.”
“That’s not true!” Sophia squawked over the comm. “The clutch was sticking.”
I rolled my eyes at them. “WK, please do your thing so we can get out of here.”
“On it, boss,” the metallic titan said as he opened fire with his ion cannon.
I’d like to say that the Gunjaar put up a good fight.
Wait. No, that’s not true. I wouldn’t actually want to say that. Like all fights, I prefer to pick ones I know I can win. Which is why I had a fully armored engine of destruction on my team. And unlike some other space fantasy tales out there, I made sure my minion’s armor actually worked. No useless plastic for my dear Wendell.
Wraith Knight absorbed incoming fire, while his cannons, along with Lydia’s sniper fire, made short work of the remaining pirates. When the shooting stopped, I stood up, helped Myst to her feet, and lit a cigarette.
“Well done,” I congratulated my team with earnest praise. All of the Gunjaar were lying dead. While I don’t enjoy such wanton murder, I had warned them.
To my left, I was pleased to see that Al the Plyomar was still in his spot, hiding behind Vaanath Magnus.
“Whaddya say, Al, ready to move on with this little adventure?”
“Sure?” the Plyomar said, getting to his feet.
“How about you, Magnus? Was watching a god in action everything you hoped it would be?”
“And lo, he called upon the heavens to deliver him from his enemies. His angels smote their bodies and cast the dead into ruin.”
“Gods above and below.” I shook my head. “If you go writing any of this down, make sure you make me sound cool,” I said, walking towards the Zenith Umbra.
I paused and called back to Magnus. “Oh, and make sure you describe me as light brown and not white. Damn honkies are always stealing the good messiahs.”
Chapter Seventeen
Where I Have a Heart-to-Heart, Expound Upon Tactile Toggles, and Talk to My Engine
Once we were all aboard, The Zenith Umbra lifted off from the Oflon Tau spaceport. Sophia kicked the ship’s engines into high gear and soon planet Unos was nothing more than a shrinking globe in her rearview mirror.
Or something like that.
Space travel in these kinds of dimensions is so non-traditional. When you think about it, back in the Prime universe, a space shuttle taking off goes from zero to an orbital velocity of 14,500 miles per hour in approximately eight and a half minutes. But in the movies, shows, and books, they just kinda lift off and reach escape velocity with no issue.
“Where to, sir?” Sophia asked from her helmsman position on the small bridge.
“I have no idea yet,” I said, watching the stars through the viewport. “Lydia, WK, and Myst are preparing our guest for questioning.”
“Oh, how’s that going?”
“Well, the Plyomar was part of the group who kidnapped our child.”
Sophia winced. “Yikes. So, Lydia already has the testicle clamps ready then?”
“And the anal taser,” I added.
“What if Plyomars don’t have an anus?”
“You know her,” I said, sitting down in the empty chair next to her. “She’ll drill one out if she has to.”
I lit a cigarette and offered one to Sophia, who politely declined. “So, just fly casual until then?”
“Something like that,” I grunted as I took a drag off the cigarette.
“Can I ask you something
, sir?”
“Of course.”
“How come you haven’t asked me if I took Evie?”
I didn’t say anything at first, choosing instead to simply stare out at the emptiness of endless space. When I finished my cigarette, I simply wished it out of existence. Perks of the ship being a mobile embassy of my dimension.
Putting my feet up, I put my hands behind my neck. “Because you love her.”
“Sir, you know I’m not capable of--”
“I know what you think,” I interjected. “I know that concepts like love are foreign to djinn. But in the time you’ve been with me, I think something has changed.”
“I still plan on ruining you, sir.”
“I know.” I nodded. “I accept that eventuality. But when you set up Randy to take me down in the comic universe, when it was all said and done, you asked me to give her to you.”
“Of course. I want her power. A demi-god has the ability to do amazing things.”
“No, that’s bullshit,” I said, shaking my head. “You asked me, Sophia. You asked me for her. You didn’t scheme. You didn’t have a multi-phase plan. Gods above and below, you had that incredibly circuitous plan to bring me down using Lydia’s pregnancy, Khasil, Randy, and my own hubris.”
“And it almost worked.”
“Almost,” I agreed. “But when you wanted Evie, you asked. You didn’t take. And I’ve been racking my brain as to why not. And the only answer I can come up with is simple. You love her. And to a degree, me. I do not believe that you would have taken my daughter, your—well, niece—and allowed her to suffer for weeks, just to dethrone me.”
“You . . .” Sophia began to say, but trailed off. Instead, she did something completely out of character.
She reached over and held my hand.
Silently, I returned the gesture, giving her a slight squeeze, refusing to ruin the moment with empty words.
A moment later, Sophia took her hand away and continued steering the ship.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll cut your dick off.”
“I expect nothing less,” I agreed.
“Go on, go interrogate that idiot,” Sophia said, her voice quavering slightly.
“What are you going to do?” I asked with a slight smile.
Sophia wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Most likely firebomb the nearest desert planet.”
“To prevent a would-be space hero?” I asked, and then, tempting fate, I leaned in and added, “or to deal with your girly feelings?”
“That’s it! Whip it out, ’cause I’m cutting it off!”
I jumped back before her now transformed razor-sharp hand swung at my groin. Of course she couldn’t actually hurt me, not in my dimension. But for the sake of comedy, I at least feigned nervousness.
I made my way down from the flight deck and into the ship’s main living area. The Zenith Umbra, while ultra-futuristic on the outside, had that classic metal and grime style on the inside. Each step along the flooring made that satisfying clank sound. The lighting was dark, and the majority of the consoles had tactile buttons and toggles.
What they did, I had no idea. But I always preferred the Millennium Falcon and the Nostromo-style ship to the Enterprise. I know, it seems crazy that I preferred metal grates and plates to sleek and stylish comfort. But if I was going to be in this shit dimension, I was gonna do it right.
I continued walking down to the ship’s engine room and saw a familiar blue glow.
“Be with you in a moment,” I said as I stepped up to one of the comm-boxes on the wall and flipped on the communicator. The toggle clacked into place, and I had to smile. From the comm box, I heard Al the Plyomar squealing like a stuck pig.
“Hey hon, how’s it going?”
The screams and squeals stopped for a moment, and I heard footsteps approach the comm box on the other end.
“Hey there, lover. Things are going swimmingly here,” Lydia said. “I’ve been directing Wraith Knight and Myst on the intricacies of groin-based torture.”
Well, at least Lydia was getting her frustration out on him and not me. “Good to know. So, how soon until you have a location on Evie?”
“Oh, we got that almost immediately.”
I pursed my lips and nodded my head. “So, you’re torturing this guy because?”
“Because he helped to take our child, dear.”
I sighed. “You know I abhor torture without reason.”
“There is a reason.”
“Which is?”
“Because it makes me feel better.”
Well, better him than me. “Just remember, we need him alive, dear.”
“He’ll live,” Lydia said. A moment later, I heard Al scream.
I knew that scream. I’d made the same noise myself, albeit a bit more masculine. I made those noises when Lydia and I were . . . intimate.
“Electrified nipple tassels?” I asked.
“Of course,” Lydia confirmed. “Just a much higher voltage.”
“Fine. Just give Sophia the coordinates,” I said, switching the comm box off.
Damn it, torture. There is no way those asshole book reviewers are going to let this slide. They always throw my own rules back in my face.
Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound.
I turned around and faced the source of the ship’s power. The vessel that carried the Blessing of The One and allowed the Zenith Umbra to operate as my mobile embassy.
“How’s it going, Dmitrius?”
The celestial, chained to the ship’s reactor, looked . . . nonplussed.
“I . . . hate you,” Dmitrius growled, “so, so much.”
I rolled my eyes. “So we’ve established. But I want to talk about that little snafu of yours, where you chose not to teleport us away from the angry, well-armed space pirates.”
“I did move you,” Dmitrius countered. “It is not my fault your secretary failed to clarify exactly how far to transport you.”
I smirked and waggled my finger at him. “Well played. Well, you know what this means, don’t you?”
“I assume you’ll waylay upon my perineum once again.”
“Oh, oh no,” I said. “I thought about it, I admit. But I have a more fitting punishment in mind for you.”
“What?”
I smiled as I walked to the comm box once more. “Sophia?”
“Yes sir?”
“Do you have the coordinates to our destination?”
“Yes sir.”
“Great. So do me a favor first. Set down on the nearest hospitable planet.”
“Sir?”
“There’s a modification I need to make to the ship.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Just trust me, Sophia.”
“You got it, sir. There’s a nearby uninhabited planet.”
“Perfect,” I said, turning around and looking at Dmitrius. “Oh, and do we have a really long extension cord?”
Chapter Seventeen and a half
Where I Make a Modification, Enjoy Butthole Humor, and Reveal Personal Truths
From the soft, wet ground of the swampy planet, my gathered crew and I looked up at The Zenith Umbra’s new addition.
“Well, what do you think?” I asked.
Lydia slipped her hand in mine and rested her head on my shoulder. “I approve, husband.”
“That is a sight to behold, boss,” Myst said.
“Thank you,” I said with a nod. “I’m proud of it myself.”
“I don’t get it,” Al the alien said, scratching at his head.
Wraith Knight clamped a large metal hand down on the alien’s shoulder. “Where we come from, there is a long tradition of sailing ships having a figurehead carved into the prow. But they were usually a nude woman.”
“Just call me a progressive,” I said, smiling up at Dmitrius, now embedded in the front of the Zenith Umbra. The angelic being continued spewing a string of never-ending curses at us.
“Well, wha
t are we waiting for?” Lydia asked. “Let’s get this ship moving. Our daughter is out there.”
“One moment, hon,” I said with a slight pat on her shoulder. “Sophia is connecting the final power line. She should have the hole drilled in a moment.”
“A hole to what?” Wraith Knight asked. “If he’s out here, then the only way to connect him is to . . . oh.”
No sooner had WK finished piecing the puzzle together than Dmitrius let out a rather undignified yelp of pain.
Yup . . . right in the pooper.
I know, I know, so lowbrow. But if you recall, Dmitrius did say that he hated not only me, but also my daughter. In addition, he admitted that he had conjured birds to defecate on her. So I think that this situation warrants not only the rectal violation of the celestial with a power cable, but also an immature anal probe joke.
“Okay, now we’re ready to go,” I said.
Lydia led the crew back onto the ship, but I held back for a moment. Lighting one of my black cigarettes with the silver tip, I stepped directly in front of the ship’s angry new figurehead.
“Just to let you know, this isn’t a dialogue. This is me talking to you. I’ll let you know when you may speak,” I said, taking a puff on the smoke. “You’re right to hate me, because I am cruel and egocentric. Perhaps I’m not as smart as I think I am. I am, as you said, a god who was never meant to be. I’m a man who stumbled his way into godhood. But I am a villain. More importantly, a villain not bound by the rule of the realms. I revel in the conquering of powerful beings. I thrive in situations where people attempt to dethrone me. But I also know that one day, this will all be over. Sooner or later, either a champion of good, or a better villain, will come along and usurp me. That is the eventuality of all things. But get this through your fucking skull: I’d destroy every brick of my empire to save my little girl. And anything that’s in my way . . . I will go through it. And that, dear angelic one, includes you. Now, do your job correctly, none of this screwing with me crap, and you’ll get to go back to your choir. But continue to oppose me, and you’ll forever be my hood ornament. So the choice is yours. Am I the ‘The Asshole’, as you said before, or am I the fucking Shadow Master?”
