Scallywag slipped onto a thinner bike than Jack’s, with a longer chassis. Grohm straddled a much bigger bike, more suitable to his size. It had a low seat and large handlebars that shot up from the front, which almost met Grohm at his chest. Jack mused that Grohm looked like a member of a biker gang whereas Scallywag looked like he was getting ready to go racing.
With a mental command to his ship, the wall to the cargo bay before them suddenly transformed into a door and opened, part of it breaking off into a ramp leading out onto the ground. Jack edged his hoverbike forward toward the ramp and stopped.
He looked down on the chalk-white terrain before him. It was dusty and rocky, like crushed bone. The sky shimmered a brilliant gold, almost like there was a sun, and the air tasted stale and lifeless.
Jack hesitated, his stomach a knot of apprehension, like the kind he got right before the first drop on a roller coaster. He stared at the ground, wondering what was going to happen the minute he embarked across it.
“What is it, lad?” asked Scallywag.
“The ground,” replied Jack.
“What of it?”
“Well, it doesn’t… I mean, it just looks like normal dirt,” said Jack. “I was thinking it would look a bit more… I dunno… evil?”
“Take a look around, lad. It’s light out but there’s no sun. We can breathe, but there’s no atmosphere. You really gonna question whether the ground can kill ya or not?”
Jack chewed on his lip. “Good point,” he said.
“When it comes to the Ancients and their creations, the greatest minds the universe has ta offer can’t make heads nor tails o’ ‘em most the time,” said Scallywag. “So regarding a race of beings who can get away with ignoring the laws of anything that makes a bloody lick of sense, I say we play it safe, savvy?”
“Savvy,” replied Jack, making a mental note not to tempt fate by trying to touch the ground to find out if the whole death-dirt theory were true or not. “You two ready?”
“Aye,” said Scallywag. Grohm grunted and nodded. Jack took a deep breath and looked out across the first alien planet he’d ever been on.
“Let’s do this,” he said, revving the engine of his bike and taking off, his two companions following him.
Jack’s bike sped across the ground, the stale air of the planet turning into a pleasant breeze as he moved. The engine of his hoverbike purred as he pushed it to go faster, its hovertreads kicking up a small amount of dust as he did so.
Scallywag and Grohm fanned out beside him as they adjusted their course toward their destination. Scally’s engine had a high whine to it, while Grohm’s was low and rumbling, as if it were complaining about the weight of its passenger.
Before them the Deathlord Mothership loomed in the distance, menacing and magnificent. The dark claw contrasted against the stark dirt rock of the terrain as it dug its talons deep into the ground like an angry spider, its green and purple veins pulsing slightly as though it were a living thing.
Jack squinted at it as he sped along, the stagnant wind of the Ghost Planet rippling through his hair. The starship was slowly growing as he and his companions sped toward it. Its image was hazy, like a great mountain that looked small and scalable from a distance but grew bigger and more oppressive as one approached it.
The sight of the Planetkiller made Jack’s stomach clench. Suddenly, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest, spurred by an injection of fear and doubt. Memories of recent events flooded into his head like a shoebox full of photographs being spilled onto the floor: the terrors of the Pit, the endless winding hallways with the Dark Soldiers who marched through them relentlessly, and the way the arms of the ship curled as they released their ghostly weapon to consume his planet. But most of all, he remembered the horrible red eyes of the Deathlord Supreme, burning through him with a hate and malice on a scale he had never known was possible.
And here he was, rushing back toward it, his hopes pinned on a crazy plan, two aliens, a snooty robot, and a spaceship in need of repairs.
It’s just like a game of Arena Deathmatch, he thought. Only here, you die for real.
Jack glanced beside him at his companions. Grohm straddled his massive hoverbike, his hands, the size of hams, clenched tightly around its handles. His red and black eyes narrowed, his huge jaw set like stone. Scallywag leaned forward, hunched low on his bike, like a cat ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble. Pangs of guilt began to grip Jack’s chest. If he were feeling this nervous, he could only imagine what they might be feeling… and they were there because of him.
When he led his team into battles on his Gamerbox, he knew just what to do. But there was never anything at stake there – nothing but a score on a stupid leaderboard. Not this time, though. This time, they either succeeded, or they died.
Jack glanced at the readout on the dashboard of his bike. They were making good time and had covered almost half the distance to their target already when Jack’s communicator came to life.
“Come in, simpletons.” Heckubus’s voice squawked over Jack’s headset. “Simpletons, come in. Do you hear me?”
Jack hit the response button on his communicator. “Simpletons? Really?” he said with a hint of annoyance.
“I am fully prepared to refer to you as dullards, inferiors, or ninny pickers, if you prefer,” said Heckubus.
“How about just calling us Team One?” suggested Jack.
“Sorry, that is not one of the choices I recognize,” responded the robot.
“Oy, Robot,” chimed in Scallywag over the comms. “Ya got a reason for calling other than to annoy the lot o’ us?”
“Of course, I do!” responded Heckubus. “You think I enjoy talking to you socially? Hardly the case. Hardly.”
“Then what do you want?” said both Jack and Scallywag.
“Long-range sensors are picking up three contacts heading straight for you,” Heckubus said. “Energy signatures are in-line with those of Deathlords, so just FYI.”
Jack heard Scallywag curse and felt his throat tighten. The Deathlords were on the way, and they still had quite a bit of distance to cover. Jack tapped a few switches on the dash of his bike to bring up a sensor scan. Sure enough, the readout showed three contacts on the way right toward them.
Three against three, thought Jack. At least we have a fair shot, for now.
Jack looked up and squinted against the air that rushed by him. All he could see was the Deathlord Mothership before him. There was no sign of any approaching vehicles. He looked around, scanning the horizon. “See anything?” he shouted into his headset.
“Not yet,” replied Scallywag.
Then, Jack saw something… a slight movement against the black backdrop of the mothership. He tried to focus in on it. It was slight at first, almost like a mirage that was playing tricks on his eyes. But before long, he was able to separate out the movement as three tiny specks materialized, drawing closer and closer…
They were Deathlords, all right. Three Dark Soldiers, armed with blasters, and they were flying right at them.
Jetpacks! thought Jack with a twinge of jealousy. Why didn’t I think of that?
“We’ve got incoming!” cried Jack into his headset as he grabbed the blaster gun from the holster on his leg.
“I see ‘em,” grumbled Scallywag. “Hold tight until they get closer. Then get ready ta scramble.”
Jack saw Grohm reach back and unholster the massive shotgun he carried, setting the barrel on the front of his bike to steady it. The weapon whined to life as it began to charge up.
Jack watched as the three Deathlords came closer, readying their weapons. He was suddenly aware of how every muscle in his body had tightened and how his heart was pounding…
“Wait for it…” he heard Scallywag’s voice say over the coms.
Then, the Deathlords opened fire, sending streaks of red plasma light flashing through the air. Jack and Scallywag veered off, Jack firing his gun as he did so. Scally hugged his bike between h
is legs and let both his weapons answer in return.
Grohm stayed steady and unmoving as blaster fire streaked all around him. He calmly aimed his shotgun and unleashed a massive blast that tore across the sky in a chaotic ball of fury. The three Deathlords tried to maneuver, but it was too late – the blast caught the trooper in the middle dead on, causing him to blow up in a fireball of red and green flame followed by plumes of black smoke.
His comrades quickly scattered, and before they knew it, Jack and his team were past them and heading steadily toward their destination.
Jack let out a “whoop” of celebration. “Way to go big guy!” he cheered. “Nice shot!”
His jubilance was short-lived, however, as more plasma fire erupted from behind him. Jack turned and saw the two remaining Deathlords had quickly turned and were now on their tails, flying in the sky and raining hot death from above.
“Scramble!” ordered Scallywag over the comm.
Jack swerved his bike hard to the left, just as Grohm swerved to the right, their paths crossing. Scally veered in the opposite direction and the Deathlords struggled to follow with their weapons’ fire.
Jack watched as Scallywag rolled onto his back, balancing himself on the seat of his bike, and returned fire with both his blaster pistols. His shots sent the Deathlords scrambling, each one veering off to the side. Scallywag quickly rolled back to a more secure stance and gunned his engine.
Looking to his right, Jack saw one of the Deathlords coming back around. He aimed his gun at him and began to fire. The shots went wide until Jack adjusted his aim, and they started to get closer to their mark. The Deathlord, obviously not enjoying being shot at, returned fire, causing Jack to swerve and struggle to keep his bike steady as plasma blasts hit the ground around him.
One of Jack’s blasts found its mark, striking the metal jetpack of the soldier, causing black smoke to billow forth from its wound. The Deathlord quickly began losing altitude and angled himself toward Jack as he was descending.
Jack swerved and kept firing, but the Deathlord matched his maneuvers. As he got closer the blasts from Jack’s pistol found their mark, tearing into the Deathlord and causing him to drop his gun, but he didn’t disintegrate. Instead, the Deathlord managed to land on the back of Jack’s bike and wrapped his claws around Jack’s neck.
Jack struggled, trying to fight the Deathlord off while maintaining control of his bike at the breakneck speed at which he was travelling. “Help!” cried Jack into his headset. “A little help, please!!!”
Then, the whine of a powering-up weapon made its way to Jack’s ears. He turned just in time to see Grohm speed up beside him, aiming his massive shotgun straight for the Deathlord’s head. The Dark Soldier turned and looked at Grohm just as the barrel leveled right at him.
BOOM.
The shotgun fired, ripping into the Deathlord, causing him to disintegrate in a puff of black dust, his damaged jetpack flying off into the distance, tumbling to the ground, and exploding.
“Thanks, big guy!” said Jack. Grohm nodded. They both turned to see Scallywag had fallen behind them, dodging and weaving as the final Deathlord remained on his tail, doggedly trying to blast the Visini to pieces.
Jack sped up. Since his bike was much faster than Grohm’s, he put a little bit of distance between them before skidding on the breaks and turning his bike around. He gunned the engine and started straight for Scallywag, who was too busy with out-maneuvering the Deathlord to see Jack barreling straight toward him.
Jack opened fire with his blaster pistol, firing directly over Scallywag’s head at the Deathlord behind him. So focused was the Dark Soldier on his prey, he hadn’t seen Jack until the blaster fire started to streak by. Jack’s blasts hit their marks, and the Deathlord quickly lost control and plummeted toward the ground.
Jack passed within a foot of Scallywag as they crossed paths, but he was going too fast and was too close to the Deathlord when it hit the ground and exploded. Jack felt his hoverbike shudder as the shrapnel from the explosion caught its front-left hoverdisk, ripping it off. The bike dipped and skidded its nose across the ground. Jack fought to regain control but it was no use. The bike slid out from under him as it slowed, and he hit the ground, rolling uncontrollably.
When he came to a stop, Jack was lying on his back looking up at the sky. He was dizzy, but otherwise unhurt. His body armor was scuffed and banged up, but luckily it seemed that other than a few bumps and bruises, he wasn’t seriously injured. Jack could only guess that when the hoverbike lost one of its front discs, it slowed down enough before he fell off to keep Jack from breaking his neck.
Jack sat up and rubbed his aching shoulders, only faintly aware of a voice screaming his name. He looked down and saw his headset had fallen nearby. He picked it up and slung it back onto his ear.
“Chill out,” said Jack. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”
“The ground!” he heard Scallywag scream into his comm. “Get off the ground!!!”
Suddenly, Jack became aware that he was sitting smack dab on the life-sucking death dirt. Fear gripped his chest as he scrambled to his feet. He looked around, frantically, searching for someplace to run… but there was nowhere to escape to.
Then, he stopped. He looked up at his companions who had turned around and were speeding back toward him. If the ground was supposed to kill him, he figured he’d be dead by now. “I… I think it’s okay,” said Jack. “Nothing is happening. I’m not dying.”
Then, a blood-curdling shriek pierced the air, echoing around Jack like a warning from a bird of prey. Jack glanced around him, suddenly alarmed, looking for the source of the noise.
“Behind ya!” yelled Scallywag into his comm. “Look behind ya!”
Jack turned. Behind him, in the distance, was a small shape. It was hazy at first but coming up fast. It looked like a queer miniature tornado, a small spout coming up from the bone white dust of the ground and swirling upward, its large apex eventually disappearing into nothing.
But it wasn’t the swirling white tornado that suddenly frightened him. It was the sound… the sound of thousands of screaming people, moaning in pain, anger, and despair. It preceded the tornado, thumping against Jack’s chest like the bass of a bad song, filling Jack with a feeling of impending doom.
Jack started to run. He ran away from the tornado as fast as his legs could carry him. He could see Scallywag racing toward him on his bike, but he could feel the impending doom of whatever was coming for him quickly rushing up from behind.
Grohm shot at the entity, hoping to draw its attention from Jack, but his blasts passed harmlessly through it as it continued to swirl angrily forward, its cry getting louder. Scallywag skidded to a stop right by Jack, swerving his bike to face the opposite direction for a quick getaway.
“Get on!” the pirate yelled. Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He hopped on behind Scallywag and wrapped his arms around him as the bike shot forward. Grohm veered off and began heading in the opposite direction as the entity barreled forth, twisting and twirling and moaning.
“What the blazes is that thing???” cried Scallywag. Jack knew the pirate could feel the dread it was putting out, too.
“Whatever it is, I think it’s what kills you when you touch the ground!” said Jack. “It must be some type of guard dog – touching the ground sets it off!”
Scallywag glanced behind them. “Whatever it is, lad, it ain’t goin’ away!”
Jack looked behind them as well. Sure enough, the entity was still there, and slowly gaining on them. “What do we do?” asked Jack, the cold grip of panic starting to tighten within him.
Scallywag cursed and activated his comms. “Robot!” he barked. “We need help!”
“With what?” Heckubus replied. “You obviously survived the Deathlords.”
“Well, now we’ve got some type o’ evil, angry tornado that’s trying ta kill us!”
“Preposterous,” said Heckubus. “I’m showing no weather patterns that would facilitate�
�”
“It’s an Ancient security system,” interrupted Jack. “It’s activated when someone touches the ground, and then it comes after you! That’s what they meant when they said the ground was deadly! It’s not the dirt that kills you; it’s this tornado thing!”
“Ah, interesting,” responded the robot. “It would make sense that if this planet were designed as a prison there would be some kind of sentry designated to keep sentient beings from walking its surface and possibly escaping. I always thought the concept of dirt that kills you if you touched it was rather far-fetched…”
“And an evil tornado that kills ya instead is so much more believable???” screamed Scallywag.
The entity was growing closer and closer. Jack could see the tendrils of dust caught up in its wind swirling angrily. Shapes began to form as though the dust were brushing up against something invisible within the vortex.
“It’s gaining on us, Heckubus!” said Jack. “How do we get rid of it?”
“How should I know?”
“Yer always saying how ya know everything, ya blasted tin can,” yelled Scallywag into his headset. “For once, we need ya to prove it!”
“Have you tried shooting it?”
Scallywag gave a scream of frustration. “Shooting it? SHOOTING IT? That’s yer brilliant idea? OF COURSE WE SHOT IT, YA IDIOT! It’s a bloody tornado! Blasters have no effect on it!”
“Fine, fine, fine,” said Heckubus. “Now, I assume it only appeared when one of you touched the ground, correct?”
“Yeah, that was my bad,” said Jack.
“Tell me, is this ‘evil’ tornado thing making contact with the ground at all?”
Jack turned and looked. He could feel the entity closing in on him and Scallywag. It seemed much larger and more menacing now, and as it twirled Jack could see faces materialize within the chaos – stretched, and pained, and screaming in agony – hundreds of them forming and disappearing as the entity twisted and flailed about.
Earthman Jack vs. The Ghost Planet Page 45
