Earthman Jack vs. The Ghost Planet

by Matthew Kadish

  “That’s what I surmised, as well!” said Green cheerily.

  “Actually, its more like Greater High Halcyonian,” clarified Heckubus. “Ridiculously convoluted language. The Halcyon’s were always so full of themselves.”

  “Fascinating,” said Green. “You’re familiar with all Halcyonian language?”

  “I have extensive databases of approximately 6 trillion languages!” bragged Heckubus. “Though I find it odd the Deathlords would derive their language from one that hasn’t been used in close to ten millenniums.”

  “I thought it odd, as well,” said Green. “The Halcyon’s only used the Greater form of their language for sacred religious texts. Do you think they are somehow connected to the Deathlords?”

  “Hmmmm. It’s possible I suppose,” replied Heckubus. “There’s still much debate on what happened to the species…”

  “Oy, eggheads!” snapped Scallywag. “Theorize later! Right now, work on getting us off this bloody ship!”

  “Do not rush me, you buffoon!” said Heckubus. “Though I’m sure the complexities of deciphering an unknown alien computer system are lost on you, I can assure you, it is not as easy as it looks.”

  “He’s got a point,” smiled Green empathetically. Scallywag glowered at the two of them.

  “Will you be able to do it?” asked Anna. “Can you get it to work?”

  “I should be able to,” replied Heckubus. “If someone would release the lockout on this particular teleportation station.”

  Heckubus squinted at Jack.

  “Oh, uh… sorry,” said Jack. He asked his ship to re-activate the systems in the room they were in.

  “Ah! Much better,” said Heckubus tapping away at the console. “Yes, this should work nicely.”

  “Quick! Teleport Shepherd!” said Anna.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that,” replied Heckubus.

  Anna looked at the robot, surprise thick on her face. “What?” she said.

  “I recommend we begin figuring out the best way to teleport to the Earthman’s ship, post haste,” said Heckubus.

  “Heckubus, why can’t you teleport Shepherd here?” asked Jack.

  “Must I explain everything?” grumbled Heckubus.

  “Yes!” cried Jack and Anna together. The robot sighed.

  “The teleportation system works by its ability to lock onto specific energy signatures. That’s why the Deathlords just can’t teleport us willy-nilly anywhere they want. Without a specific energy reading, we cannot teleport anything – particularly your Paragon – without the use of a dematerialization platform,” said Heckubus as he pointed to the gleaming rectangular metal platform alcove in the wall in front of the console.

  “So you’re saying you need some type of energy reading to lock onto before you can teleport something?” asked Jack.

  “Sorry, was I not being clear?” said Heckubus patronizingly.

  “His armor,” said Jack. “That thing gives off a lot of energy! Lock onto that!”

  “Yes,” replied Heckubus, rolling his eyes. “And that would be helpful if we knew the specific frequency that it emitted. The system is set up for Deathlord energy readings only. Anything else I would need to input manually.”

  “Is there nothing you can do?” pleaded Anna. “Can you scan different frequency ranges? Anything?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind hanging about for a couple of hours,” replied the robot. “Have you any idea how many different frequencies we’d need to go through before finding the right one? Chances are by the time I stumbled onto it, either he’d be dead, or we would be.”

  “You’re supposed to be a genius,” said Jack. “Can’t you figure something out?”

  “I AM a genius!” declared Heckubus. “However, I am NOT a miracle worker. Perhaps if you had something of his that emitted the same frequency as his armor, I would be able to analyze it and determine an energy signature, but barring that, there’s nothing I could do.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. He turned to Anna. “Your disguise!” he exclaimed.

  “What?” Anna asked.

  “Those hologram things you used to look more human,” replied Jack. “Shepherd has one, too, right?”

  Anna perked up. “Yes!” she said. “He was wearing a hologuise emitter just like me!” She took off her bracelet and handed it to Heckubus. “Can you use this to find him?”

  The robot’s large eyes whirred and buzzed as he inspected Anna’s bracelet. “Hmmmmm...top of the line Imperial camouflage technology. Very Impressive.”

  “Can you USE it?” she insisted.

  “Of course, I can!” snarked the robot. “However, the energy signature it gives off is quite faint. It may be difficult to lock onto it.”

  “Find a way,” said Jack. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

  Heckubus stood up straight. “Pah! I’m probably the ONLY one who can do it.”

  “Then prove it!” said Jack, pointing at the console.

  * * *

  Sparks flew as Shepherd’s baton clashed with Zarrod’s gauntlet, its energized surface screaming in complaint against the unyielding metal of the Deathlord’s armor. Each blow sent shivers of impact rippling down the length of Shepherd’s weapon and through his arm with aching fury, but he continued his assault – one painful blow after another.

  It felt like their fight had lasted ages. From the moment Shepherd had first attacked, the Deathlord had blocked each and every strike, not once fighting back or attempting to retaliate. His opponent was toying with him, content to allow him to expend what little energy he had left – and worst of all, Shepherd knew it.

  The Paragon had painstakingly designed his armor and weapons to be used against Deathlords. His armor was attuned to their blaster fire. His shields were tested and refined against their mysterious energy attacks. And his weapons were calibrated to quickly dispatch them. Years of trial by fire in battle had helped Shepherd design his defenses to optimal effectiveness, and yet, they all seemed useless against the Deathlord Supreme.

  Shepherd spun away from his opponent, hoping to try a new angle of attack, but Zarrod was fast enough to block his attempt. Each move the Paragon made, it seemed the Deathlord had already prepared for it.

  Desperate, Shepherd brought down both of his batons in an overhead swing, putting all his might behind it. Zarrod reached up and caught the electrified clubs in his hands, gripping them tightly with his clawed fingers. Shepherd tried to wrench them free, but Zarrod’s grip was relentless. Shepherd looked into the Deathlord’s fiery red eyes as his batons crackled and popped in protest.

  And the Deathlord laughed.

  “If this is the best you can do…” taunted the Deathlord as he pushed back against Shepherd’s weapons, “then I’ve grossly underestimated how your species defines ‘best.’ ”

  Shepherd strained against Zarrod, but the Deathlord was stronger, even with the enhanced strength Shepherd’s armor afforded him. Slowly and deliberately, Zarrod pushed against the batons, forcing them back ever closer toward Shepherd’s armor.

  This isn’t working, thought Shepherd, his mind racing. I’m losing, and if I do, Anna has no chance of escape…

  Shepherd knew he would have to do something drastic if he had any hope of defeating his opponent. He tried to concentrate, ignoring the pain he was in, ignoring the throbbing of his aching muscles as he struggled against the Deathlord, ignoring the worry and concern over his current situation. He fell back on his training and allowed himself to open his mind for the briefest of moments, hoping beyond hope that he could find the one thing he needed to save not only himself, but also the people he cared about.

  Not much is known publicly about the process of Quantum Manifestation. Though Paragons were historically quite open with their doctrines and knowledge concerning the technique, few outside the order actually understand its inner-workings. However, what is easy to understand is the concept that in order to manifest something new into one’s reality, it requires that one
first discover what exactly he wishes to manifest. Then he must pull that object into existence through the sheer power of his belief that this object does, in fact, exist.

  It is believed by Paragons that everything – all objects, knowledge, and even life itself – already exists. Everything that once existed, and will exist, is out there in the universe somewhere, and one must simply free his mind from its limiting beliefs in order to discover it. This can take many years – hundreds of years even. This process of discovery is usually attributed to the Paragon’s ability to attune himself to the universe around him, with the notion that everything is inter-connected. And since everything is connected, and everything already exists, one simply needs to recognize the fact that he already knows what it is he wishes to manifest.

  It is also said that a skilled Paragon, one who is centered and willing to open his mind fully, can ask the universe to deliver to him anything he desires immediately; and the universe will do so, as though some over-arching consciousness is there to deliver the answer.

  There has been much debate among historians just how skilled Paragon Shepherd truly had been in this regard. There are those who argue that there is little evidence to prove he had been a Paragon with the near masterful ability to instantly manifest objects on the fly. Indeed, there are many historical records of him spending a great deal of time meditating over his quantum creations.

  But at this moment, in the heat of battle with the greatest foe he would ever face, none can argue that when Paragon Shepherd opened his mind to the universe for that brief moment seeking some type of miracle…

  The universe answered him.

  Shepherd focused on the back of his mind, in that place where he chose to mold his reality, manifesting the inspiration that had come to him.

  Within his armor, his power core changed and remolded itself to his will. The subtle inner-workings of his armor shifted into something new, and just like that, a new frequency of energy and a new source of power coursed through the Paragon’s armor.

  His batons began to glow brilliantly, infused with a bright blue light as Shepherd channeled the new power source into them. Zarrod looked at the batons, surprised, as his hands began to smoke from contact with them.

  “What–” the Deathlord began to say, when suddenly, a surge of energy flooded into the weapons.

  The Deathlord screamed, a cavalcade of sparks leaping from his hands as he let go of the Paragon’s batons, tendrils of brilliant blue energy snaking around him.

  Shepherd wasted no time. He attacked, landing blow after blow with his batons. Zarrod raised his gauntlets to fend them off as he had before, but each time Shepherd made contact, the Deathlord howled in pain, sparks flying off his armor as more of the Paragon’s blue energy assaulted him.

  “Stop him!” thundered the Deathlord. “Kill him!”

  Immediately, the Dark Soldiers who had been standing at the sidelines sprang into action. Some charged toward Shepherd in defense of their leader while others leveled their weapons.

  Shepherd turned toward his new opponents, landing three vicious blows on each one in turn. These Deathlords did not disappear in a black cloud. Instead, his batons cut through them, rippling blue energy coursing through their bodies, causing them to burn up, their remains fluttering away like embers from a flame.

  The other Dark Soldiers unleashed a volley of plasma blasts, which were easily absorbed by the Paragon’s armor. Shepherd pointed his batons toward the firing squad of Deathlords and funneled a large amount of energy into his weapons, releasing a blast of brilliant blue light. It tore through the Dark Soldiers, melting them away with the speed and fury of a thermal explosion.

  Shepherd spun back toward Zarrod, who had taken his brief respite to charge up another death energy assault, the small ghostly ball swirling between his fists. He had not had enough time to fully charge it before Shepherd advanced, and when he unleashed the attack, it screamed out toward the Paragon.

  Shepherd crossed his batons in front of him and caught the blast with them, funneling as much energy as he could into his weapons. They glowed bright blue and hummed with power as the Deathlord’s energy screamed and groaned against it.

  Zarrod and Shepherd were mere feet away from each other. The howl of the death energy filled the corridor, and the flickering blue light from Shepherd’s batons cast its hue all around them.

  Shepherd took a step forward, his armor groaning against the force of Zarrod’s attack, but the energy from his batons was absorbing it, cancelling it out. He moved ever closer toward the Deathlord Supreme, to within striking distance, in order to get close enough to deliver one killing blow.

  Zarrod did not retreat from the oncoming Paragon. He continued to funnel as much energy as he could into his assault, hoping to break through. Finally, when they were merely a foot from each other, Shepherd struck. He twisted away, raising one of his batons and swinging it for Zarrod’s head.

  The Deathlord broke off his energy blast and ducked. Another quick blow lashed out from Shepherd, scraping off the Deathlord’s gauntlet as Zarrod deflected it with a grunt.

  The Deathlord leapt backward, trying to put some distance between him and his attacker, but Shepherd pressed forward, moving quickly to strike his foe, not wanting to give the creature time to recover.

  Zarrod ducked and dodged the Paragon’s assault, his dark cape flowing around him as he moved, concealing the ever growing tendrils of ghostly energy that were quickly accumulating around the Deathlord’s hands.

  Then, Shepherd swung one of his batons in a wide arc aimed directly at Zarrod’s head. Within inches of striking, the Deathlord’s hand shot up, armored in a ghostly white gauntlet that caught the baton before it could land. As the energy from the contact sparked and moaned, Zarrod’s other hand lashed out, a pale white blade created by the same death energy extending from his arm, impaling Shepherd’s forearm, passing through his armor as though it were not even there.

  Shepherd cried out in pain, dropping his baton as the death energy blade faded from use, leaving Shepherd’s armor unmarred, as though it had never been struck. Zarrod tossed the Paragon’s confiscated baton aside and blasted the remainder of his ghost gauntlet at Shepherd’s other hand, knocking his second baton away.

  With frightening speed, Zarrod swung out his clawed hand. The sharp edges of his taloned fingers sliced through Shepherd’s helmet as though it were made of paper, leaving deep, scarred gashes emblazoned upon the once smooth surface. Electricity vomited forth from the Paragon’s helm like blood from a wound.

  Shepherd cried out as Zarrod swung again, closed fisted this time, catching the Paragon squarely in the face. His head snapped back from the impact of the Deathlord’s blow; his helmet shattered into pieces, exposing Shepherd’s pained face through the electric glitter of hundreds of shards, as what was left of his faceguard disintegrated.

  Shepherd fell back, hitting the ground hard. Even as he tried to regain his senses, the world around him spinning and blurry, the Deathlord was upon him.

  Zarrod hurled a small ball of ghostly energy at him, hitting him directly in the chest. Shepherd screamed as the death energy writhed around his body like hungry leeches looking for blood.

  As soon as that death energy dissipated, Zarrod took another step toward the fallen Paragon and unleashed another ball, which quickly wrapped itself around Shepherd yet again. Shepherd’s face turned red and puffy and his eyes bulged. He gritted his teeth, screaming through them in agony as the white tendrils of the Deathlord’s attack snaked through him.

  Finally, Zarrod straddled the Paragon, his heavy knees pinning Shepherd’s arms to the ground, and a clawed hand wrapped around the Paragon’s throat. The Deathlord’s eyes blazed hot and red as Shepherd met his stare, defiant to the last.

  So this is how it ends, thought Shepherd. Anna, forgive me…

  “And now,” mused Zarrod, his deep voice thick with a mixture of triumph and malice, “you’re mine.”

  He reached up with his f
ree hand, holding it over the Paragon’s chest. Shepherd cried out as invisible hooks shot through him, digging into the very essence of his being.

  Shepherd could feel the Deathlord tug on the hooks, pulling at him. Pain coursed through his body; he felt as though his skin were being ripped off his very muscles. His vision blurred and his thoughts swirled chaotically. His mind felt like it were lost, floating in mid air, struggling to get back into his head where it belonged.

  Shepherd could feel that part of him was outside his body. His vision constantly shifted from his normal eyesight to a disembodied blur of his surroundings. The sound of the Deathlord laughing faded in and out of his ears, going from a dull echo to painfully sharp as he lingered between life and death.

  But somewhere, within the chaos of the moment, Shepherd’s mind recovered just long enough to allow his training to kick in. Freeing one’s mind meant knowing how to control it, and in that instant of lucidness, Paragon Shepherd refused to die.

  His consciousness steadied itself and Shepherd could feel himself in two places at once. He was within his body, helplessly pinned down by the Deathlord Supreme, looking up at a swirling white figure protruding from his body, being pulled by the clawed hand of Zarrod. But he was also floating right above himself, aware of all his surroundings. He could feel the Deathlord’s invisible hooks lodged within him, violently tugging against him, wanting to rip him free of his material form.

  Immediately, Zarrod’s laughter stopped. The Deathlord’s eyes widened with surprise as Shepherd struggled against his grasp, desperately trying to pull his spirit back within him.

  Zarrod pulled harder, tugging at the Paragon’s soul with violent ferocity. Shepherd grunted, pain causing the edges of his vision to turn red and black, but he stayed focused, refusing to let go, refusing to allow his essence to be stolen from him.

  “Relent!” barked Zarrod. “Yield!”

  “Never…” croaked Shepherd through gritted teeth.

  “You will not defy me!” growled Zarrod.