Space Team: Return of the Dead Guy

by Barry J. Hutchison

  “President Carver.”

  The president nodded and smiled. “Graxan of the Greyx. Long time no see.”

  Miz stood up. “Dad?”

  Graxan’s eyes were pale and milky, his hair mostly gray. He cocked his head at the sound of Miz’s voice, a look of confusion crinkling his fur-covered features. “Mizette? Mizette, is that you?”

  The president and first lady both turned in their chair to look at Miz. Thanks to the bump, this was much easier for Cal than it was for Loren.

  Miz suddenly became aware of all eyes on her. Behind her, Tobey Maguire quietly slid into her recently-vacated chair and strapped himself in.

  “Uh, no. I mean, yeah, I mean…”

  “Yeah,” said Mech. “Yeah, it’s her.”

  Graxan’s look of confusion became one of delight. “Mizette! My Mizette,” he said, his voice becoming a wheeze. “Where have you been, child? Your mother has missed you, dearly. I have missed you.”

  Miz tried to speak, failed, then cleared her throat and tried again. “I, like, you know, missed you, too,” she managed, before her throat tightened again. “I’ve been, uh, like, kind of…”

  “Saving the galaxy,” said Mech. “Righting wrongs, helping people, doing good.”

  Miz glanced at him in surprise, then shuffled awkwardly. “Uh, well, I mean… I guess. You know, not, like, all the time.”

  “But regularly,” said Mech. “Pretty fonking regularly.”

  Miz met his eye again and a smile passed between them.

  “You should be proud of this girl,” Mech continued. Up on his shoulder, Splurt nodded. Sort of.

  “Proud?” said Graxan, his brow furrowing into a deep frown. “Of course. Always.” A tear rolled from one of his milky eyes, and was immediately absorbed by his dry, brittle fur. “Since the day she was born, I could not have been prouder.”

  Miz’s nose twitched and her eyes moistened. She rocked back on her heels, and nodded once, but couldn’t find the words to reply.

  President Carver leaned forwards and pointed upwards. “Uh, hate to interrupt. But big weird space thing? About to kill everyone? Thought it was worth mentioning.”

  On screen, Graxan bowed, just a fraction. “The Greyx are with you, old friend. Keep my daughter safe. Keep us all safe.”

  “Ten-four, Graxy. And thanks.”

  “Farewell, Mizette,” Graxan said.

  Miz managed a hoarse-sounding, “Bye, Dad,” before the feed cut off. Still reeling, she stepped back and sat down, right on top of Tobey Maguire.

  “Fonk! Where did you come from?” she snapped, jumping up again.

  “I told you, it’s my chair,” said Tobey Maguire. “This is where I always sit.”

  Miz was about to tear him out of the seat when her ears pricked up. Mech spotted it immediately.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Screaming,” said Miz. “Outside.”

  The first lady thumbed a switch and the sounds of panic and terror spat at them from the Shatner’s speakers.

  “Fonk,” said the president, jumping to his feet. “Honey, stay here.”

  “What? No!” First Lady Loren protested. “I’m coming.”

  President Carver shook his head. “No. Stay with the ship. Be ready to go. We still need to go fight the big weird space thing, and no one can fly this baby like you.”

  “You mean, like, sideways into a wall?” said Miz.

  The president leaned in closer to his advisor. “Keep an eye on her. Keep her safe.”

  Tobey Maguire nodded. “Of course.”

  “You two,” said the president, pointing to Mech and Miz. “With me. Let’s go find out what the fonk is going on.”

  They hurried into the corridor towards the hatch. On the way, Mech stopped to pull open the weapons cabinet. He tossed Miz a blaster rifle, then grabbed the only one big enough for his fingers to operate.

  “Hey, how’d you know about that?” asked the president. He gestured for Mech to toss him a gun.

  “Lucky guess,” said Mech. Instinctively, he picked up the smallest blaster pistol he could find and passed it to President Cal.

  “What’s this? A potato gun?” said the president.

  “If you’re gonna accidentally shoot me, I’d rather you shot me with that,” said Mech.

  “Fair point, well made,” the president conceded, then he slammed the button that dropped the hatch, and all three of them ran outside.

  The sky was falling. At least, that was how it looked. Long fingers of crackling orange energy stretched down from Ikumordo. From where they stood, Mech and the others could see twenty or more columns of light, evenly spread a few miles apart in all directions. One of the beams had struck the city where they’d first arrived in this dimension. Most of the screaming was coming from that direction.

  “Oh shizz, that’s not good,” said the president. He pointed at a man in a Zertex uniform who stood, open-mouthed, as he watched on in horror. “You. What’s happening?”

  The guard tore his eyes away from the closest column, realized the president had addressed him, and snapped to a sort of clumsy salute. He was slightly-built, with dark orange skin. Mech thought there was something vaguely familiar about him, like he’d met him in another universe somewhere, but couldn’t place where.

  “Um, um, um,” said the guard, not very helpfully.

  “There’s no burning,” said Miz, sniffing the air. “No explosion. That thing – those beam things – I don’t think they’re doing any damage.”

  “Then what the fonk are they?” asked Mech.

  The president strode forwards. “Let’s go find out.”

  “No,” said Mech, catching him by the arm. “We’ll go. You get up there and engage that thing. That’s the only way we’re gonna stop it.”

  President Carver snorted, as if about to immediately dismiss the idea. But then he glanced back at the Shatner, spent a few seconds contemplating everything inside, and nodded.

  “Fine. But keep everyone safe. Please.”

  Mech nodded. “You have my word.”

  Cal patted him on the upper arm. “You’re a good man,” he said. He hurried up the ramp, then looked back when he reached the top. “A good robot man.”

  “Fonk you, shizznod,” Mech spat. The president winked, grinned, then vanished behind the rising ramp.

  “So, what’s the plan?” asked Miz.

  “The Carvers are still in the castle. Go get them. If it’s safe, head for the column thing,” said Mech. He jabbed a metal finger at the terrified guard. “You?”

  The guard looked back over his shoulder, hoping to see someone else there. Sadly, he didn’t. “Who, me?”

  “Yeah you. You see anyone else here?”

  The guard looked around again, just in case. “N-no.”

  “Exactly. Come with me.”

  Despite looking like he’d quite like to object, the guard nodded. “OK.”

  While Miz bounded back towards the castle, Mech and the guard raced around the outside, as quickly as Mech’s massive frame would allow. The screams grew louder, and were joined by a low frequency humming sound which throbbed through the ground and made all Mech’s loose bits rattle.

  “What is it?” asked the guard, his eyes darting anxiously between the light column and the cyborg. “Is it…? It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

  “Chances are pretty fonking high,” said Mech, as they rounded the front of Castle Grayskull, and saw a handful of other guards all ducking for cover behind the high gates. “Open these up,” Mech barked. “We’re going out there.”

  “Fonk off!” yelped one of the men. “Out there? With that? You’re having a laugh, ain’t ya?”

  The first guard’s anxiety seemed to evaporate at that. It was only then that Mech noticed the pips on his shoulder that signified his officer rank. “You heard the man!” he barked. “Get these gates open. There are people out there. Come on, move, move, move.”

  A well-drilled guard unit would have responded instant
ly. This lot responded quite slowly, and with a lot of dubious looks back over their shoulders. They did, however, open the gates.

  “Now get out there and start helping people,” the officer instructed. He looked sideways and up at Mech. “Right?”

  “Right,” said Mech, ushering the guards out. “Go. Do what you can.”

  With a fair amount of muttering and the occasional disparaging look, the guards crept out through the gates, keeping their heads as low as they possibly could while still being able to see where they were going.

  “Thanks,” said Mech.

  The officer shrugged, and all his anxiety returned. “They’re just scared. We’ve never… This isn’t what we do. We’ve never seen action. Most of us just joined for the benefits. I only got promoted because I had the shiniest shoes.”

  Mech glanced down. Despite the whole end of the world thing going on, he couldn’t help but let out a whistle of appreciation. “Holy shizz. Those are some shiny motherfonking shoes.”

  The guard’s face became a knot of worry. “I… I have a family. Kids. I don’t want to die.”

  “And you won’t,” said Mech. “Stick with me, and you’ll be OK.”

  The man nodded. The worry remained, but was joined by a grateful smile. “I will. Thank you.”

  Mech began to march on, and beckoned for him to follow. “What’s your name, son?”

  The guard shifted on the balls of his feet, a little uncomfortably. “You’ll laugh.”

  Mech sighed. “What? Seriously? Just tell me your name, man.”

  The guard smiled, a little embarrassed. “My name’s Gluk,” he said. “Gluk Disselpoof.”

  Mech stopped.

  Mech turned.

  And then, with very little in the way of warning, Mech exploded.

  * * *

  Miz found the Carvers still in the hall, surrounded by worried-looking guards. Carver Two hurried over to her as she crashed through the double doors, panting heavily.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “Is it happening? Is Ikumordo attacking?”

  “Looks like it,” said Miz. “Round everyone up. We need to get out there.”

  Two spun on his heels and banged the bottom of his staff against the wooden floor. “Carver Council! Uh… and friends. The moment has come. Ikumordo attacks. This is the moment we’ve been preparing for.”

  The stoned-looking Cal raised a hand. “Uh, when were we preparing?”

  “Yeah, I don’t remember any, you know, actual preparing, exactly,” said another Carver.

  “OK, so ‘preparing’ was a strong word,” admitted Carver Two. “This is the moment we’ve been…”

  “Shizzing ourselves about?” suggested Old Man Carver.

  “Spik fur yersel’,” said Eighty-Three. The little man was wielding a double-headed battle axe twice as tall as himself. Where he’d got it from was anyone’s guess. “We cannae wait tae git stuck intae it. Richt, lads?”

  “Yer nae wrang,” said another of the Dwarves.

  “Intae ‘im, intae ‘im, intae ‘im!” chanted a few of the others.

  One of the guards cleared his throat. “Um, we’re supposed to keep you in here,” he said.

  Miz rounded on him, her lips drawing up to reveal her teeth. “Try it,” she suggested. She had no idea if the guard had understood her or not, but he backed down immediately, and offered a panicky smile.

  “B-but we won’t, obviously,” he said, stepping aside.

  “You’re coming, too,” she told the troops, hurrying for the door again.

  “Council and company, let’s go! This ends here and now!” Carver Two boomed. He set his jaw in grim determination and added, more quietly: “One way or another.”

  * * *

  Mech sat up. He didn’t intend to, but Splurt had squeezed himself under the cyborg’s back, and shoved.

  He could smell burning. Scorched metal. Melting wires.

  That sort of thing.

  The pain arrived as reams of data. Damage reports flooded his field of view, too numerous to process all at once. He was hurt. That was about the size of it. And badly.

  “Hey. Hey, mister. You OK?” whispered the guard, and Mech remembered the final words he’d heard him say. He forced himself to sit up further.

  “Do I look like I’m fonking OK?” he grunted.

  There was a hole where Mech’s dial had been. It sparked and fizzed, the jagged metal edges of the wound still glowing red hot. The remains of some sort of missile lay scattered on the ground around him, along with part of the castle gate, which Mech had crashed backwards through at high speed.

  “What the fonk happened?”

  “Uh, that guy shot you,” said Gluk, pointing to where a hulking figure was approaching. He was silhouetted against the tower of light, but even through a veil of scrolling damage reports, Mech recognized him.

  “Hey,” he grunted, forcing himself up onto his knees. “That’s me.”

  The other Mech raised a missile launcher and fired again. Mech shoved Gluk Disselpoof aside, but there was no time for him to get clear himself. He crossed his arms across his damaged chest and braced himself.

  Splurt caught the missile in a huge, gloopy fist, flipped it over, and tossed it back. The other Mech ducked, but the explosive detonated against the ground behind him, with enough force to lift him off his feet.

  As the light of the explosion illuminated him, Mech realized the other him wasn’t another him, at all. It was like him, definitely, but everything about it was a slick, oozing white, as if he was made from some kind of living wax.

  “What is it?” asked Gluk.

  “I don’t know. Some kind of clone, maybe?”

  “It’s an echo.”

  Mech turned to see Carver Two running down the castle steps beside Miz. The rest of the council and their recently-acquired companions were filing out through the main doors in groups of three and four (or, in the case of the Dwarves, seven).

  “Say what?” said Mech.

  “Void echoes. I mean, I think. Carver Prime talked about them,” Two said. “Although, why they’d be here, I don’t know.”

  “Shizz. What happened to you?” asked Miz. “Are you, like, OK?”

  “Been better,” Mech admitted. “But I’ll be fine.”

  The Echo Mech was getting back to its feet. Even over the sound of the screams and the humming sensation throbbing through the ground, Mech could hear the duplicate’s hydraulics hissing.

  More figures were marching out of the light column in the distance. Dozens of them, becoming hundreds. Some of them walked, some of them ran. One of them bounded on all fours, its tail flapping along behind it.

  “Seriously?” snarled Miz. “Bring it on.”

  “It’s an invasion force,” said Two. “A ground invasion, designed to wipe us all out.”

  “Oh no,” cheeped Gluk.

  “I got your back, man,” Mech assured him.

  “No, don’t you see? This is good. This is great!” said Number Two.

  “Fit whysit great?” asked Eighty-Three.

  “Why would it attack us? Like this, I mean?” asked Two. “Why would it feel the need to stop us? Because it knows we can stop it. By wiping us out, it’s playing it safe, and if it’s playing it safe, it means it isn’t invulnerable.”

  “So what do we do?” asked Mech. “And, just so you know, if the next words out of your mouth ain’t, ‘go beat the shizz out of those things,’ I’m gonna be very disappointed.”

  Carver Two grinned. He nodded, just once. Behind him, the Shatner rose into the air, clipped the castle roof, then streaked off into space.

  “Mech. Mizette. Carvers?” said Number Two. “Let’s go beat the shizz out of these things.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Cal had never been in two places at once before. He hadn’t been in three places at once before, either.

  And as for four?

  No.

  So, being everywhere at once, as he now currently was, was proving
to be somewhat disorientating. He could only liken it to that time he had…

  No.

  He had nothing.

  The part of him that could still think rationally was pretty sure his brain was still in one piece, but the rest of his mind had fragmented into a seemingly infinite number of parts, all of which were granting him a different view of the universe. Or universes.

  Universii, maybe?

  No.

  No, that was silly.

  He saw not just through space, but through time, as well. He saw the Void, empty and still. He saw a bubble appear in the blackness, then another, then another. He saw worlds rise and fall, galaxies bloom and fade, universes be born, only to die as billions of years passed in the blink of an eye.

  Not that he had eyes.

  Or eyelids.

  Not anymore.

  He saw beauty in it. Wonder. Horror. Joy. He saw the beginning of everything and the end of all things, both at the same time. He saw eternity and infinity collide, and felt the shockwave ripple through every atom in the multi-verse.

  He said, “Crikey,” quite loudly – a word he had never said before, would never say again, and would later deny all knowledge of ever having said in the first place.

  “Cal? Are you OK?”

  Loren’s voice was far away, but right in his ear. He tried to reply, but couldn’t figure out where his mouth was, or, for that matter, when he’d last seen it. He checked his pockets.

  No.

  Not there.

  “What’s happening to him?” Loren asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Lily, and Cal felt sparks and fireworks flare in his head at the sound of her voice. Lily. His daughter. His little girl, all grown up.

  Alive.

  Lightning flashed everywhere, everywhen, and the Void returned. The darkness felt different, somehow. Younger. Fresher. Like it had only just begun.

  It spiraled around him, twirling every different version of his consciousness in a thousand different directions at once. He hoped he could remember where his mouth was soon, because he was definitely going to throw up if this didn’t stop in the next few seconds.

  It stopped in the next few seconds.

  And there, smeared across the face of the Void like orange-flavored birthday cake, was Ikumordo.

  And there, next to Ikumordo, was another Ikumordo.