Earthman Jack vs. The Ghost Planet

by Matthew Kadish

  “Training and discipline, eh?” smiled Jack. “You realize this is me we’re talking about, right?”

  Anna giggled. “I wouldn’t sell yourself short, Earthman. I think you’ve proven beyond any doubt that you are, in fact, pretty awesome.”

  Jack’s chest puffed up slightly at Anna’s compliment, and he flashed a smug smile. “You forgot incredibly good looking, brave, smart, and most of all – modest.”

  Anna couldn’t help but laugh and nod good-naturedly in agreement. “You are all that and more, yes,” she said. “When we get back to Omnicron Prime, you will be a fine addition to my service.”

  At that, Anna noticed Jack’s smile fade slightly. “That is,” she quickly added, “if you still plan on entering into it.”

  Jack was quiet for a moment before speaking. “After Earth was destroyed, Shepherd told me that if I were going to survive, I‘d have to find a cause to devote my life to. He told me it would give my existence meaning, because a cause can’t be destroyed, it can’t be corrupted, and it will live on far beyond me, even if I were to die. A cause could be a testament to my people, my planet, and myself. Something that will carry on in their honor, forever.”

  “That sounds like Shepherd,” said Anna sadly.

  Jack looked at her and smiled. “I had decided to make my cause the same as his. It was going to be you, Anna.”

  “Going to be?” asked Anna. “Not any more?”

  Jack shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ll be there for you no matter what. But…”

  Anna raised an eyebrow. “What?” she asked.

  Jack looked at Anna dead on, more confidently than he ever had before.

  “I’m going to save Earth,” said Jack, “And every other planet the Deathlords have destroyed. And bring back everyone they’ve ever killed.”

  Anna looked at Jack, the conviction in his voice ringing in her ears. He sounded so sure, but as much as she wanted to believe him, as desperately as she wanted his words to be true, she just couldn’t bring herself to accept them.

  “Is… is that even possible?” she asked.

  “Anything’s possible,” responded Jack. “Right?”

  “But to bring back the dead? To restore all that’s been destroyed? How do you do it?”

  “No idea,” said Jack. “But I know it can be done.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

  Anna nodded. Shepherd, she thought. If what Jack was saying were true, he could be brought back. Her mother and father could be brought back. Her brothers, too. Everyone who had lost their lives, both on Earth and Regalus Prime. It was almost too good to be true. Never in history had there been any record of bringing back the dead. But then again, she’d seen a lot of things lately that had no precedence in history. Could this be true? And if so, how?

  “The Great Seal,” said Anna, the wheels in her brain turning. “Professor Green said… it contained the knowledge of how to manifest life.”

  Jack nodded. “Knowledge we freed. Knowledge that can now be discovered.”

  “Knowledge that could allow us to somehow… recreate what’s been lost?”

  Jack shrugged. “Recreation, time travel, quantum manifestation, cloning, mad science, mad libs, a partridge in a pear tree – you’re asking the wrong guy. I have no idea how it’s possible. But I know what we need to do it.”

  “You do?”

  Jack nodded. He leaned toward her, and Anna inched closer to him, her growing excitement visible.

  “You know that Ancient weapon you were searching for? The one that could defeat the Deathlords once and for all?”

  Anna’s eyes sparkled as a glimmer of hope shot into them. She nodded.

  “That’s what we’ll need.”

  “Do you know where to find it?” Anna asked.

  “Not yet,” said Jack. “But I know where to start looking.”

  “Where?”

  Jack leaned back and put his arms casually behind his head.

  “Ever hear of a place called Khoruhar?”

  Anna’s mind raced to find an answer. “No,” she said.

  “That’s where it is,” said Jack. “And when we get back to your planet, that’s what I’m going to start searching for. We’re going to find this weapon of the Ancients, and when we do, we’re going to save our planets, our friends, our families, and kick the Deathlords’ sorry butts back to hell where they belong.”

  “This is your new cause?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you really think you can do it?”

  Jack leaned in and looked Anna in the eyes. His gaze was confident and steady, and somewhere in the back of her mind, he reminded her of Shepherd. When he spoke, deep inside Anna’s heart, all doubt disappeared.

  “Count on it,” he said.

  Epilogue

  A heavy blue light, with nothing but pitch black outside its harsh circle, shone down from above and encircled Zarrod like a noose ready to constrict.

  Stripped of his armor, his body seemed long and gangly. It was a new body, not nearly as strong and opulent as his former one. No doubt this, too, would be part of his punishment, relegated to a weaker form… should he survive his current circumstance.

  In the darkness, high above him on ornate thrones, sat three robed and hooded figures. The avatars of his masters – each with a face of smooth stone with three holes, two for eyes, one for a mouth – were illuminated by a light signaling that the avatars where being used by his Lords. They gazed down upon him in harsh judgment. The one on the left was possessed by a sickly green light. The one to the right, a deep blood red. And the one in the middle glimmered with a harsh purple.

  Zarrod’s entire body ached under their gaze. He had one knee on the ground, the other up to his chest with his hands rested atop it. His head was bowed low. He dared not look upon the face of his masters, or even their avatars, at a moment like this.

  He had been summoned almost immediately upon his resurrection, where he then learned the extent of his defeat. Zarrod’s first reaction was disbelief, for the sheer scale of the failure was unlike anything he could have possibly imagined. To think that it was not only he who had been destroyed, but also all who followed him – by a single, solitary Earthman.

  His Lords spoke, their voices booming, washing over Zarrod like a fowl wind that caused him to cringe under its might. Their words stung his ears like they were filled with vicious insects, and he felt shame assault every fiber of his being as they talked.

  “Zarrod,” they said. “You have disappointed us.”

  Zarrod felt a stinging sensation in his chest. To fail his Lords was the greatest horror any Deathlord could comprehend.

  “Our entire Planetkiller fleet destroyed. The Invincible Armada lost. All our plans are now in disarray.”

  “Your failure is unforgivable.”

  “Yes, my Lords,” said Zarrod. “You have every right to destroy me for my failure, and I will accept your ultimate judgment. I simply ask you grant me one final plea.”

  The three robed figures sitting above gazed down on him for a moment, weighing his words.

  “Proceed,” they responded.

  “You have a new enemy, my Lords. One none could have foreseen. He is the reason our fleet was destroyed. He is the reason we lost our armada. He is the one who defeated me.”

  “You speak of this… Earthman?”

  “Yes,” said Zarrod. “Somehow he was able to gain knowledge of Servuchur.”

  “Impossible.”

  “It is true, my Lords. He used it on me himself.”

  “How can this be?”

  “I do not know, my Lords. But I know this Earthman. I made the mistake of underestimating him and paid for it dearly. Should you choose to have another of your servants deal with him, they may suffer the same fate.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Grant me your permission to pursue him. I will be patient, methodical. I will lea
rn of our enemy, discover how he came to possess your sacred knowledge, and when the time is right, I will strike him down.”

  “And why should we let one such as you, who has already failed us, have such an important task?”

  “Because I am familiar with him. I have spoken to him. Gotten insight into how he acts and thinks. But most of all, I have the motivation to succeed – more motivation than any other to whom you could grant such a task. Not only for your glory, my Lords. Not just for the sake of my life. But for the thing which you, above all, hold most holy and righteous – revenge.”

  Silence greeted Zarrod’s plea. For a moment, he was afraid his Lords would reject his request. But then, they spoke.

  “You shall be stripped of all rank and position. You are no longer a Deathlord Supreme, and you will not be granted full mastery of Servuchur as you were before.”

  “Your new task shall be to hunt down this Earthman and to kill him once you learn how he came to possess our sacred knowledge.”

  “And after you have achieved your revenge and eliminated this threat, you shall be culled for your failure.”

  Zarrod felt an odd sensation run up his back. It was a cold, tingling chill. He knew he was to be punished, and the thought of getting his revenge should have been enough to satiate him. The punishment his masters were handing down was deserved – he had indeed failed them. It had always been enough for him to do as they wished, and he had experienced no greater satisfaction than carrying out their will, even if that will was that he should ultimately be destroyed.

  But something was different now. Ever since his experience with the Great Seal, something had changed. He didn’t know what it was, or even how to describe it, but it was there, like a gnat buzzing around his head too small to see or to catch.

  Memories of his time on the Ghost Planet flashed into his mind. He remembered the feeling of the energy from the Great Seal tearing through him. The visions he experienced had been overwhelming and terrifying, even to him – so much so that he had felt relegated to a single essence of darkness. It was as though his mind and soul were so lacking compared to the majesty of what was before him, that he existed in a state of complete emptiness.

  The memories were hazy and jumbled, but the feelings were not. He could remember the sheer terror he had felt – an emotion he had never experienced before at such a level. In his panic he had done something… wrapped himself around something… it was a message of some type, a message the Ancient heretics had meant to be discovered.

  Zarrod could not remember what it was, though. It had gone somewhere, and taken him with it. During that time, he had almost lost himself, and only after he had begun to strike out and fight it, had he returned to his body. But he had taken something back with him, something that was not meant for a Deathlord to possess.

  Whatever had changed him raged within him now. It coursed through his body, growing more acute with each passing second. It tingled in the back of his very essence, refusing to go away – violating every thought and feeling he’d ever had.

  In that moment, when his sentence was handed down, he… felt something. Something he had never experienced when it came to his masters…

  Resentment.

  Zarrod knew what it meant to be culled. To have his essence ripped from him. To have his consciousness obliterated. It should not have scared him. He was their faithful servant, with the only goal of his existence being to serve them. In his mind, he knew that he should be grateful they were allowing him one final task before receiving his punishment. But at his core, he felt completely different.

  In his gut, he did not want to be culled. And that meant something unprecedented – that meant he actually wanted to defy his masters.

  At that moment, Zarrod, the culler of worlds, master of darkness, and bane to all that was living, finally understood what it was like to want to live.

  “I thank you for your wise judgment, my Lords,” said Zarrod, careful to conceal his true feelings. “I swear to you, your will shall be done.”

  “See that it is,” his masters said. “You will not be given another chance.”

  “Now go forth, and serve your masters,” they said in unison. “Serve the Lords of the Void.”

  With that, the glow left his masters’ avatars, their smooth stone heads slumping down now that they had been released. The light from above faded, and Zarrod found himself back in the Central Temple of Akkadia, the most holy location for Deathlords, for this was where they communed with their Lords. His ship had had its own temple where his masters had left their orders infused into an avatar, which then had instructed him when he was a Supreme. But that paled in comparison to where he was now.

  Zarrod got to his feet, his body stiff and awkward. His mind raced as he tried to understand the emotions he was feeling. They were new, yet familiar, as though he’d experienced them before, a lifetime ago. Did he really want to defy his masters? Could he?

  Yes, he thought. Yes, I do. And yes, I can.

  It was then he realized that he had indeed been a slave. All that time serving his Lords, he had never truly had a choice. His actions had never actually been his own. He had been an extension of their will, programmed to behave in a way his masters had dictated - never questioning, always serving. He had no real sense of self, just like every other Deathlord. His species had been designed to feel joy at death and destruction; to take satisfaction in nothing but serving their masters; to blindly follow orders and do what they were told, without exception. They were nothing more than mere robots.

  But all that had changed. The Great Seal had done something to him. It had given him something he’d never known he was lacking – free will – the ability to think for himself and to do what he wanted, not just what he was commanded.

  Zarrod realized that had been what he’d felt since he was resurrected. Independence. The feeling of freedom was strange and foreign to him, yet liberating at the same time. It was like he’d taken his first step into a new world, unshackled from the chains of servitude that had kept him imprisoned for so long.

  In that instant, Zarrod couldn’t help but laugh. He was no longer a Deathlord Supreme; this was true. But he had been transformed into something far more powerful. Something not even his masters could anticipate – a Deathlord who could think for himself and could do as he wished beyond the influence of his Lords – a Deathlord with his own consciousness.

  A Deathlord with the potential to free his mind.

  And what could a Deathlord with a free mind accomplish? Could he get his revenge? Could he kill every one of his enemies? Could he rise up and even overthrow his own gods?

  All that and more, thought Zarrod as the genesis of a plan began to form in his mind. And at its center was the Earthman. For some reason, he was the key to what had transformed Zarrod. Yes, he would kill him, and yes, he’d make the child suffer before he did. But not right away. Zarrod would need to take his time, to play along with his “masters” so that they would not notice what he was up to.

  In the meantime, though, he’d have to focus on something else… something that had been rattling around in his brain like a caged animal desperate to break free… something that had been in his mind ever since the Great Seal had shattered. He did not know what it meant, what it was, or why it was so important. But he knew he had to find it, and quickly, because it was the key to his ultimate revenge. And all he had to go on was a single, solitary word…

  Khoruhar.

  Earthman Jack will return in…

  An Important Note From The Author

  Dear Reader,

  First of all, I want to take this opportunity to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking the time to read this novel. And since you are currently reading these very words, I can only assume that you’ve reached this point because you enjoyed the text and have arrived at this page naturally, rather than glimpsing at it after angrily throwing it into a lit fireplace, laughing maniacally as the flames slowly consume its pages a
s you crack open your dog-eared copy of Twilight or Harry Potter for the trillionth time.

  If you were to look up “labor of love” in the dictionary, I’m sure you’d find a picture of this book, right along side a picture of me, in the entry. (That is, of course, assuming you’re looking at the dictionary I keep at my desk. Sadly, Merriam-Webster has yet to return any of my letters begging for general inclusion into future publications.) Which is why my heart leaps whenever I see that others have taken the time to read my work, and have actually enjoyed it.

  Earthman Jack vs. The Ghost Planet first sprang to life in my head back in the year 2000, the image of a boy finding a totally awesome spaceship at the center of the Earth being its genesis. But I did not start writing it in earnest until 2008. In those eight years, I developed a concept for an epic space opera – one spanning many strange planets, grandiose events, exciting adventures, and lame one-liners. I kept a notebook detailing all my kooky ideas for what this story would entail, eventually organizing them into a fully planned septology (which is like two trilogies and their weird one-off cousin no one likes to talk about). Thus, this tome is merely the first of seven planned books in the saga of the universe’s last Earthman.

  The next book, Earthman Jack vs. The Secret Army, will focus around the Regalus Empire, and Jack’s first taste of what life is like within it. All the main characters (well, those who survived the first book, anyway) will be returning, along with a cast of new arrivals whom I am very excited to introduce you to. But rest assured, just because Jack has escaped the clutches of the Deathlords, does not mean he’s safe. Book 2 will see the stakes get higher, the dangers get greater, and the mysteries get deeper. After all, we can’t make things too easy for Jack, now, can we?

  Though it took me four years to write Earthman Jack vs. The Ghost Planet, nothing would please me more than to work on this series full time. The reason this book took me so long to complete was simply because I have an annoying habit of needing food and shelter (clothing remains optional), all of which require me to do this pestering thing people like to call “earning a living.” Because of this, I could really only write when I had the free time. This meant sporadic episodes of imbuing the pixels of my word processor with sheer and unadulterated brilliance, followed by long stretches of me being forced to do silly things such as working at a job and paying taxes. (Neither of which I much enjoy doing, I’m afraid.)