Space Team: Return of the Dead Guy

by Barry J. Hutchison

  “Punched. I mean you get punched,” he said. He shook his head. “Jesus, why did I say it like that?”

  He turned to find Lily’s shotgun pointed at him. “Hey, wait!” he said.

  “Move!”

  Cal dived sideways and the shotgun roared. A monster screeched, then was promptly put out of its misery when Mech crushed its head between his fists.

  “Stitch this, ya bam!” roared Eighty-Three, driving the metal top of his skull into the stomach of another creature. As it doubled over, he swung upwards with his axe. Had he been an inch taller, it would have been a textbook decapitation, but since he wasn’t, the swing fell just short enough to leave the monster’s head flapping around by a strip of gristle and flesh.

  Somehow, it remained on its feet. It staggered towards Cal and Lily, head flopping around on its back, blood spurting from its neck stump. One of them let out a high-pitched scream, but Cal wasn’t quite sure which of them it was. He hoped it wasn’t him, but had some pretty deep suspicions that it might have been.

  Splurt power-punched the mostly-headless monster, turning it into a fully-headless monster, and one that was suddenly quite some distance away. Cal convulsed violently, briefly dry-heaved, then turned and fisted another monster to death.

  Punched. He meant ‘punched’.

  The movements of the creatures were becoming more purposeful now, more deliberate. They no longer moved like a load of blind monsters, and instead moved like a load of short-sighted monsters, which removed what little advantage the Carvers had.

  Cal uppercutted one of the creatures a full fifteen feet into the air, where it was shot to bits by Loren. She was kicking and shooting her way through the heaving masses, doing as much damage with her feet as she was with the gun.

  “Go for the legs,” she shouted. “They’re weak.”

  “Soonds lik’ a plan tae me!” bellowed Eighty-Three. He began spinning like a top, twirling his battle-axe out in a wide circle. A number of the creatures went down screaming as Eighty-Three’s axe whizzed through their kneecaps like the blade of a blender.

  Lily pumped her gun again, pulled the trigger, and cursed when the weapon let out a click. Tossing it aside, she drew a knife from inside each boot and flew at another of the monsters. Cal caught her by the arm and pulled her back.

  “Whoa, easy there, princess. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

  He stepped to the side as Miz bounded past, teeth and claws both bared. A moment later, several things all screamed at once, none of them Mizette.

  “Get your hand off me!” Lily barked, flashing her blades at him. “Don’t make me ask you again.”

  “Ninety-nine is right,” intoned a voice from nearby. Cal and Lily both looked round to see Carver Two approaching through the mass of alien bodies. He twirled his staff with expert precision, smashing through exo-skeletons, shattering knees, and generally causing a whole lot of damage with very little apparent effort, and all without taking his eyes off Lily and Cal. “It is not safe for you here.”

  “Bullshizz,” said Lily, tearing her arm free of Cal’s grip.

  Splurt swung Cal’s arm out, grabbed the head of an approaching monster, and twisted until something went snap.

  “Look at them all!” Lily said, gesturing towards the now thinner, but still pretty hefty mass of alien creatures. “You need me.”

  “Exactly. We need you. Alive,” said Two. “Forgive me, Carver Prime.”

  A gust of faintly yellow air belched from the end of his staff and hit Lily in the face. She immediately began to topple, but Carver Two was prepared and caught her by the waist before she could hit the ground.

  “Help me get clear,” Two barked, hoisting the unconscious girl over his shoulder.

  Cal stepped past and pushed ahead, his massive Splurt-fist karate-chopping a couple of the creatures into a lumpy paste. Behind them, unnoticed, another of the monsters raced for them, its teeth gnashing the air.

  It dropped to its haunches and jumped, throwing itself towards Carver Two, and the sleeping Lily hanging limply down his back.

  A metal hand caught the creature’s tail, mid-leap. “Not so fast, motherfonker,” Mech spat, then he swung the beast up and over his head, before smashing it against the ground with such force it exploded like a paint-filled balloon.

  Now that the initial shock had passed – and, more importantly, the numbers had thinned – the other Carvers were starting to join the fray. For all their terrifying appearances, the creatures weren’t all that tough. Their looks had likely evolved as a defense mechanism to scare away predators (although probably not the ones from the movie), but they’d made the mistake of believing their own press, and thinking they were all that.

  Even just from the way Eighty-Three was currently puréeing them from the thighs down, it was becoming evident that they very much were not all that. Even calling them partly that was being quite generous, and by the time Old Man Carver got stuck in, the monsters were outnumbered ten to one.

  Cal hung back, making sure Carver Two reached Lily’s pod, then returned to the fight. Mech, Miz and Loren had all stepped aside now, leaving the rabble of Carvers to lay into the final few monsters with a level of enthusiasm that had been noticeably absent in most of them just a couple of minutes before.

  “Nice work, everyone,” said Cal. “Blue Cal, nice sword work. You… I’m going to call you Emo Cal, good shooting. Beardy Cal, you can probably stop spinning now.”

  The whumming of Eighty-Three’s axe died away as he stopped rotating on the spot. “Och, an I wis jist startin’ tae hae a richt braw time tae masel’, tae.”

  “That’s… great?” said Cal. He shot Loren a sideways glance. “Any ideas?”

  “Not a clue.”

  Old Man Carver’s arms wobbled as he raised a rock above his head and then clonked it across the back of the last remaining creature. Cal could see the monster was patently already dead, but decided not to spoil the old guy’s moment.

  “Nicely done!” Cal said. “In fact, nicely done all of you.” He began to clap his small left hand against his stupidly oversized right one. “You earned this. You hear that? This is for you.”

  He nodded to Mech and the others. “Come on, back me up here,” he whispered.

  Reluctantly, Mech and Loren began to clap. Miz rolled her eyes, folded her arms, and uttered a single sarcastic: “Yay.”

  “Well deserved,” said Cal. The other Carvers looked mildly embarrassed, but smiled, because everyone likes to be told they’ve done a good job, even if the job entails shooting sentient lifeforms in the face, or shoving pointy implements into their soft, pliable innards over and over again.

  Especially then, in fact.

  There were a few congratulatory pats on the back, a few more fist-bumps and a couple of hugs. The hand that clamped down on Cal’s shoulder, though, didn’t feel friendly in the slightest. Cal turned to find Carver Two glaring at him.

  “A word, Ninety-Nine.”

  “Pomegranate,” said Cal. He held a hand for a high-five from Mech, but the cyborg just stared at it, then looked away. “Ouch,” said Cal. “I thought that was pretty decent.”

  “Forgive me if I’m not amused,” said Two. “Come with me. I wish to speak to you. Alone.”

  “Anything you say to him, you can say to us,” said Loren.

  “That is true,” Cal agreed. “Unless it’s about that rash we sometimes get, in which case, let’s keep it between ourselves.”

  Cal wriggled his fingers and Splurt detached himself from his wrist. He handed the little green blob to Loren, then flashed the team one of his best grins. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be right back. He’s not going to banish me again.” He looked sidelong at Two. “You aren’t, are you?”

  “No. Only Carver Prime has that authority. I wish to talk, that is all.”

  “There you go, then,” said Cal. He patted Splurt’s head, making the little guy ripple with joy. “I’ll be right back. If you fancy helping these guys with the clea
r-up, I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they would,” said Miz, quite accusingly.

  “Right. Good,” said Cal. He tapped a finger to his forehead, then gestured for his counterpart to lead the way. “After you, Number Two.”

  Carver Two rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He set off towards his pod at pace, his staff thonking every few steps against the ground.

  At the pod, Two indicated for Cal to go inside first. Once he had, Two stepped in and pulled the door closed behind them.

  “I know, I know!” said Cal, holding up his hands. “But honestly, you don’t have to thank me.”

  “Thank you?” said Two.

  “OK, well, I said you didn’t have to, but I’ll take it. You’re welcome.”

  “I wasn’t thanking you.”

  “You sure?” said Cal, frowning. “Because it sounded like you were.”

  “You brought creatures from the Malwhere here. You literally made them rain on us out of the sky, and you think I’m thanking you?”

  “We also stopped them. You know, mostly. Without us, you’d all be dead,” Cal pointed out.

  “Without you, we would never have been in danger in the first place.”

  Cal considered this for a moment, weighing up a number of possible counterarguments, none of which were exactly watertight. In the end, he opted for a classic.

  “Touché.”

  Two propped his staff up against the wall and leaned there next to it. He was older than Cal, but he hadn’t really looked it until now. It was like much of the fire that had been burning inside him had now died, leaving this tired older guy behind.

  “For the record, I did not agree with your banishment,” said Two.

  “Thank you,” said Cal. “And here I thought you were going to be the bad cop in all this.”

  “I wanted you executed,” said Two. “Publicly.”

  “Aaaand I was right,” said Cal.

  “No, I was right,” said Two. “Had we simply killed you, none of this would have happened. We – Carver Prime – would never have been in danger.”

  “I don’t know if she was in danger,” said Cal. “She seemed to be handling herself pretty well.”

  “And yet, you stopped her,” said Two. “You put her safety before your own. For that, I suppose I should be grateful.”

  Cal said nothing, too afraid of the words that might come out. It rankled him to hear Two talking about Lily as if it was his job to protect her, his responsibility to keep her safe. That was Cal’s responsibility, as far as Cal was concerned. He’d failed in it once. Never again.

  “No gratitude required,” said Cal. “Just doing my job.”

  “Your job was to make the trade with Ikumordo,” said Two, that fire returning again and straightening him from his slouch. “By not doing so, you have put us in danger. You have put Carver Prime in danger.”

  Cal shrugged. “You’re worrying too much. I gave Ikumordo an ultimatum. Sure, he talks big, but I’m betting he’s getting pretty fonking scared right now. If he hasn’t already turned back, he’ll be doing it soon.” He pointed at Two and winked. “That’s a Cal Carver gurantee.”

  Without a word, Carver Two reached for his staff. Cal didn’t see him pressing a button or activating any other controls, but a moment later a semi-transparent square opened up in the air in front of him, revealing a lot of gray static and not much else.

  “What’s this now?” Cal asked. “TV on the fritz? Mech might be able to help with that.”

  As he spoke, the snowy static came alive, like one of those Magic Eye pictures Cal could never get the hang of, no matter how many hours he spent trying to ‘look through’ them. There was no mistaking this one, though. On screen, the static had formed the same head that Cal had addressed inside the orange cloud.

  “Ikumordo?” Cal said.

  “It was transmitted just a few minutes ago,” Two said. He pointed to the screen with the end of his staff. “Observe.”

  Ikumordo began to speak. Cal could tell it was speaking because of the way its lips moved and words appeared inside his head. Looking back, he’d never be able to recall if there had been actual sounds transmitted, or if the words had jumped straight from Ikumordo’s simulated lips into Cal’s brain. Either way, the meaning was abundantly clear.

  Ikumordo was not happy about Cal challenging it. Decidedly unhappy, in fact. So unhappy that, rather than just consume the Earth, it was going to gobble up the universe. And not just the universe, but all universes everywhere, and all at the same time. Despite having no reason to, Cal thought that this was probably beyond even Ikumordo’s power set, so made a point of coughing and muttering, “Bullshiz,” during that part of the announcement.

  The whole message lasted about twenty seconds, but once it was done, Cal felt like he’d always known it. Like the information had always been there in his head, somehow. A fact, that he’d been unknowingly aware of all his life.

  Ikumordo was going to destroy the entire universe. Many entire universes, in fact.

  And it was all Cal’s fault.

  “Uh, wow,” said Cal. “This is… I mean, this is… awesome.”

  “Indeed,” intoned Two, then he frowned. “Wait, what?”

  Cal clapped his alternate on the shoulder. “Number Two, Ikumordo has just played right into my hands.”

  Two’s frown deepened until his forehead was just one big wrinkle. “You mean this was part of some plan?”

  “Yes!” said Cal. “Well, no,” he admitted. “I mean, maybe,” he concluded. “Are you asking if I deliberately planned this exact series of events, knowing what was going to happen? No. If you’re asking did I subconsciously plan this exact series of events, suspecting what was going to happen?”

  He shook his head. “Also no. But if you’re asking – and I think you are – if we’ve just landed a lucky break that’s going help us defeat our big weird space thing friend… Again, probably not.”

  Cal grinned. “But we might have. And sometimes a might have is all we need to win!”

  He conceded a shrug. “I mean, not often. Rarely. And the odds are pretty much overwhelmingly stacked against us.”

  Two blinked. “Where are you going with this?”

  Cal retraced the steps of his thought process, decided the route didn’t make a whole lot of sense, and shrugged again. “Not a clue. I clearly had some kind of outcome in mind, but Christ knows what it was.”

  His smile returned. “Doesn’t matter, the point is, are we going to sit around and wait for a big cloud of space shizz to eat the multi-verse, or are we going to go do something about it?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It took twenty minutes of persuasion before Carver Two agreed to bring Cal to Carver Prime, and a further hour or so for Lily to shake off the effects of the gas and wake up.

  Cal, Space Team, and the other Carvers then spent several more minutes hanging around outside Lily’s pod, trying to pretend they couldn’t hear her berating Carver Two for knocking her out, while simultaneously listening to every word coming out through the hole Mech had punched in the door.

  Carver Two gave as good as he got at times, and eventually the screaming match became a shouting match, then a raised voices match, then just a murmured conversation match from which no obvious victor emerged.

  Eventually, Lily marched out from within her pod, drew Cal a look that should have killed him on the spot, then started walking across the grass towards the Currently Untitled.

  “Where’s she going?” Cal asked.

  “The fonk should I know?” Mech grunted.

  “I wasn’t specifically asking you,” Cal pointed out. “It was just a sort of general thinking out loud.”

  “Oh,” said Mech. “Well… I ain’t apologizing. You should’ve made that more clear.”

  Halfway to the ship, a doorway opened before Lily. Without missing a step, she walked through it. The door remained open, but it wasn’t until Carver Two emerged from the pod and gest
ured towards the door with his staff that the others started to follow.

  “Where are we going?” asked Loren.

  “Like, it better not be back to that Hell-dimension,” said Miz. “That place sucked.”

  “Please,” said Two. “All will be revealed.”

  Cal and the others hesitated, then headed for the doorway, joining onto the snake of alternate Cals – or, as Cal was thinking of calling them, Calternates – as they filtered single-file through the rectangle of white light.

  “Just for the record,” said Mech. “Saying ‘All will be revealed,’ like that, it makes you sound like the bad guy. Just so you know. See, now I’m expecting something majorly terrible through here. Like, some evil genius shizz you been waiting to pull, and which you’ve now got waiting for us right through that door.”

  “He’s right,” agreed Cal. “Although, to be fair, that probably reflects on us as much as it does on you. I’d say, what, seventy per cent of the people we meet turn out to be bad guys?” He looked to Loren for affirmation. “You think? About seventy?”

  “About that, yeah,” Loren agreed.

  “What about that guy with all the clones?” said Miz.

  “Shizz, yeah. Eighty per cent,” said Cal. He gestured to the doorway. “The point is, if you’re hoping to surprise us, you’re probably going to be disappointed.”

  Carver Two’s head had been tick-tocking between them all as they spoke. It stopped now on Cal. “I can assure you, we’re not the bad guys,” he said. He gave a self-satisfied little smirk somewhere deep inside his beard. “But as to whether you’ll be surprised? Well, only time will tell.”

  They reached the door and stopped. Carver Two gestured for them to go ahead. Cal looked around at the others, took Splurt from Loren and plopped him onto his shoulder. Then he faced the doorway, raised a foot high in front of him, and stepped on through. He arrived seamlessly on the other side.

  Cal was right. He wasn’t surprised.

  ‘Surprised’ didn’t really do the emotion justice.

  He was standing on nothing, gazing out at… everything. He didn’t realize it was everything. Not at first. He thought it was a big black curtain with lots of little holes in it that showed a light beyond. As he looked, though, the pinholes became stars, and the curtain became all of space itself.