Earthman Jack vs. The Secret Army (Earthman Jack Space Saga Book 2)

by Matthew Kadish

  The barmaid raised an eyebrow. “You want a mug of Hexamethyl Etheroxide?” she said in disbelief.

  “Uh… I take it I don’t want that?”

  “Well, they typically use it to degrease starship engines,” said the barmaid. “We’re one of the few places that serve it. It would probably melt your insides.”

  “Oh,” said Jack, eyeing Grohm as the Rognok took another swig from his mug. “Got anything that won’t melt my insides?”

  “We have over a hundred thousand beverages from all across the Empire,” the barmaid replied. “We cater to any and all alien tastes, depending upon your species.”

  Upon hearing the barmaid’s words, a funny thought struck Jack. “Could… could I order alcohol?” he asked.

  “Sure, if you want.”

  “Really?” asked Jack. “You don’t need to see my I.D. or anything?”

  “Why would I need to see your I.D.?”

  Jack tried to keep from showing too much excitement. Back on Earth, he’d have to be 21 to drink alcohol in a bar. He guessed the galaxy at large didn’t enforce any type of drinking age policy. “Do you have any beer?” Jack asked the barmaid.

  “Over sixty thousand varieties,” the barmaid replied.

  “Any of them good?”

  The barmaid shrugged. “Depends on your tastes, I guess.”

  “What would you recommend? Uh, for someone who’s never tried beer before?”

  “Hmmmmm…” pondered the barmaid. “Well, there’s the Antari amber brew. It’s guaranteed to grow all types of fungus in your intestinal tract.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. “Fuh… fungus?”

  “It’s the Antari yeast,” explained the barmaid. “It grows a fungus in your intestines that makes it so whenever you eat you feel drunk. Very popular with species who have ravenous appetites, like Gourvines. It also pairs well with our spicy fried larvaworms!”

  Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not liking the sound of alien fungus growing in his insides. “Maybe beer isn’t such a good idea,” he muttered. “What about regular alcohol?”

  “The Xiaphobe Venom is quite popular,” offered the barmaid. “It will only make you mostly dead.”

  “Mostly dead?” said Jack in shock.

  The barmaid shrugged. “Some people like the feeling,” she said. “The hangovers can be pretty icky, what with the temporary paralysis and all. You know, I guess being mostly dead for a while is rough on the system.”

  Jack was quickly re-thinking his urge to try alcohol. There was no telling what kind of weird effect any of the hundred thousand beverages would have on him. “Yeah, I’m thinking alcohol might not be for me,” Jack said. “I guess I’ll just have a cola.”

  “A what?”

  “Oh, right,” muttered Jack, remembering his Earth lingo didn’t always translate well in the Empire. “Do you guys have soda-pop here? You know, fizzy drinks?”

  “You mean Fizzy-Pop?” asked the barmaid. “Yeah, we have that.”

  “Really? Cool!” said Jack. “I’ll take a glass of that.”

  “A glass?” asked the barmaid. “A whole glass?”

  “Yeah,” said Jack. “And no ice, please.”

  The barmaid shrugged and tapped the order into her datapad. “Okay, one Fizzy-Pop, coming up,” she replied before walking away.

  Jack turned to Grohm when she’d gone. “Jeez, intergalactic bars are so complicated!” Jack muttered. “And from the sound of it, like, super dangerous!” Grohm simply grunted and took another large gulp from his mug. Jack eyed him curiously. “That sounds like pretty strong stuff you’re drinking, Big Guy,” Jack said. “Is there… um… a reason you’re tossing back so much of it?”

  Grohm’s red and black eyes glanced at Jack briefly before staring into his mug. “Is only thing that has effect on Rognoks,” Grohm muttered.

  “So you’re, like… trying to get wasted?” asked Jack. “Why?”

  Grohm’s lips curled into a hint of a snarl. “Leave,” he muttered.

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “What?” he replied.

  “Leave, Earthman,” Grohm grunted. “Grohm wish to drink in peace.”

  The Rognok took another drink from his massive mug. Jack stared at the large alien, his shock at the Rognok’s request suddenly giving way to indignation. “Dude, what is up with you?” asked Jack. “The month we were on the Earthship, you just sulked in a corner, and now you’re telling me to buzz off so you can get drunk by yourself. Ever since the Ghost Planet, it’s like you’ve been super depressed or something.”

  Grohm scowled at Jack.

  “Sorry, sorry, forgot…” Jack muttered. “You’re not weak, you don’t feel emotions, blah, blah, blah. But something has been bugging you. So rather than telling me to take a hike, why don’t you tell me what’s got you all moody?”

  “Nothing,” muttered Grohm.

  “It’s not nothing,” replied Jack. “Ever since that fight with Zarrod you’ve been…” Jack trailed off, his eyes growing wide with realization. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he asked. “You weren’t expecting to survive that fight.” Grohm snorted and looked away. “Dude, are you seriously depressed that you’re still alive?” asked Jack. “That we won?”

  “Grohm didn’t win.”

  “We beat Zarrod, dude!” Jack replied. “We totally destroyed the entire Planetkiller fleet! We blew up that Invincible Armada thing and saved the universe! That’s the very definition of winning, bro!”

  “Earthman beat Deathlord Supreme,” said Grohm. “Grohm not win. Grohm not get his revenge.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Jack in disbelief. “Dude, without you, I’d have never been able to beat him! You freakin’ pounded the crap out of that guy and gave me the time I needed to save Anna and break the seal. You totally got your revenge!”

  Grohm took a big drink from his massive metal mug and looked down at the bottom of his cup sadly. “Make no matter,” he grumbled. “Rognok gone. All Rognoks gone. Grohm have nothing to fight for. Grohm have nothing to live for.”

  Jack felt his chest tighten. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Grohm wasn’t some big dumb monster. That beneath his fearsome exterior, he had feelings, and thoughts, and hopes, and dreams just like every other living being. He was always so quiet and reserved, Jack never once considered that he might be suffering. Jack remembered what it was like after he’d seen Earth destroyed. The hopelessness he’d felt. The sense that there was nothing left to live for. He knew exactly what Grohm was suffering through, and he was kicking himself for not being aware of it sooner.

  He reached out and put his hand on top of Grohm’s massive mitt. “You do, Big Guy,” said Jack. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. That’s why I’m here. I… I didn’t tell you about everything that happened to me when I was fighting Zarrod. When I broke the seal, I had a vision. A vision which told me it was possible to save my planet and every planet the Deathlords had already destroyed. A way to bring back all the people they’ve killed.”

  Grohm looked at Jack, his massive brow raised curiously. “Dead is dead,” muttered Grohm.

  “Maybe,” said Jack. “But hope is hope. If there’s a chance, even a small one, that you and I could get our planets back and save everyone that was on them… isn’t that worth fighting for? Isn’t that worth living for?”

  Grohm looked back down into his cup. “Rognoks cannot be saved, no matter what,” he said quietly.

  “Oh, c’mon,” said Jack. “Don’t be like that! If there’s a way for the Ancients to create a planet and an evil tornado of doom, there’s gotta be a way to bring your people back, right?”

  Grohm shook his head. “Rognoks not like others,” he said. “Rognoks have no soul. To Rognoks… death is death. There is no coming back.”

  Jack just blinked at him. “What… what do you mean Rognoks have no soul?”

  “Ancients create Rognoks to fight Deathlords,” Grohm muttered. “Created without soul, so Deathlords could not defeat us.�
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  “That doesn’t make any sense,” replied Jack. “You’re alive, aren’t you? All living things have souls! I think…”

  Grohm shook his head sadly. “It is why Rognoks do not feel,” he said. “It is why Rognoks do not dream. Do not breathe. Do not eat. It is why Rognoks do nothing but fight. Rognoks are empty. Rognoks have no purpose.”

  Jack glared at Grohm. “I don’t believe that,” he said.

  “Grohm not care what Earthman believes,” Grohm muttered. “Now leave. Let Grohm drink in peace.”

  The barmaid chose that moment to set a tall glass of a fizzy brown liquid in front of Jack as he sat in awkward silence with Grohm. “There you go, hon,” she said. “One glass of Fizzy-Pop. No ice.”

  Jack didn’t even acknowledge her. He just glared at Grohm, a mess of emotions swirling within him. He’d thought out of all his companions, he could at least count on Grohm to want to help him on his quest. He’d thought the loss of their planets would have bound them together somehow, that Grohm would want to do anything to save all that had been taken from him. But the Rognok had just given up. And for the first time since the Ghost Planet, Jack felt alone and abandoned… and he didn’t like that feeling one bit.

  “You want me to leave you alone?” said Jack with a scowl. “Fine. But just know this – you do have a soul Grohm. I don’t care what you say. I’ve seen your bravery. I’ve seen your compassion. I’ve seen your selflessness. A soul isn’t just some mystical energy that Deathlords can rip out of you. A soul is about what you believe yourself to be. And as long as you’re willing to lose yourself in that mug and wallow in your misery, you’ll never realize what it is you have.”

  Jack got to his feet and prepared to walk away, before briefly stopping and grabbing his glass of Fizzy-Pop, chugging it down and slamming the empty glass on the table defiantly. Grohm stared at him as Jack leaned over the table.

  “But before I go, just on the off-chance that you might care,” said Jack. “I’m going to tell you about Khoru…” Jack trailed off. He shook his head and blinked his eyes, momentarily losing his train of thought. “…I’m going to tell you about… about…” stammered Jack as his eyes started to glaze over. “…why do I have the sudden urge to call every girl I know and ask her what she’s up to?”

  That was the last thing Jack remembered saying.

  “Jack?” came Mourdock Skyborn’s far-off voice. “Jack, can you hear me?”

  “Uggghhhhhh…” moaned Jack.

  Suddenly, the haze began to clear, and Jack’s head thumped painfully, metaphorical mind raccoons rampaging around in his skull. His vision danced before him, multiple disjointed images eventually converging, coming into focus on Mourdock’s face, with those of Wilvelm and Fredreek behind him.

  “He’s fine,” said Wilvelm. “See that pained look? Means he’s snapping out of it.”

  Jack sat up, sucking air sharply between his teeth as his head protested every movement he seemed to make. He rubbed his temples, his chest feeling like it had 50 pounds of bricks laying on it. “What happened?” he muttered. “Where am I?”

  Fredreek chuckled. “Congratulations, Earthman,” he said. “You’ve been arrested.”

  Jack looked around. Sure enough, he was on a bench in what looked to be some kind of cell. The walls were all padded and sterile white. There was a small black dome in the ceiling which Jack could only assume was some type of security camera. A small sink and toilet sat in the corner. The opening across from the bench led out into a large hallway containing other similar looking cells, though the ones that contained prisoners seemed to have some type of active force fields to keep the inhabitants inside.

  “I… I’m in jail?” Jack asked, shocked.

  “You’re in what they call the Secure Cells,” Mourdock said. “It’s a specialized solitary confinement prison the Peacekeepers use to hold important prisoners.”

  “We VIPs are pretty familiar with it,” said Wilvelm with a smile. “We affectionately call it the ‘Recovery Room.’ Slept off a few myself here in my time. It’s not too bad, as long as you don’t mind your neighbors being some of the worst criminals in the city.”

  Jack blinked. “What did I do to end up here?”

  Fredreek chuckled. “Oh, man… wait ‘till you see this…” he said as he pulled out his personal datapad and tapped at it.

  The pad produced a holographic image, which looked to be from a security camera at the bar. Jack looked on, mortified, as the image of him standing on top of the table he’d been sitting at with Grohm began to play. “…and then I said to him – ‘Where I’m from, it’s called KICKING YOUR ASS’!” holographic Jack said loudly as he swayed atop the table, barely keeping his balance. He began laughing hysterically for a brief moment. “Get it? GET IT? I’m freakin’ funny! Why isn’t anybody laughing?”

  “Sir,” the barmaid said with exasperation. “Please, you need to calm down, or we’ll be forced to call the Peacekeepers.”

  “Psh… Peacekeepers?” said Jack as he swayed on top of the table. “You think I’m scuured of Peacekeepers? I blew up a freakin’ planet, m’kay? ME! I ain’t scuured of nuthin’!”

  “Zeeboo,” said the barmaid, turning to the alien behind the bar, more than a bit annoyed. “Get the Peacekeepers on the line. We got ourselves a disorderly.”

  “I’ll blow you up!” said Jack pointing at the barmaid. “I’ll blow everyone up! And… and I’ll think of something witty to say right before I do it! ‘Cause that’s how I roll! Big Guy, back me up on this…” Jack turned to Grohm, who just grunted and quietly took a sip from his drink. “See?” Jack yelled to everyone in the bar. “That’s Rognok for ‘yes’!”

  “Sir, I’ll ask you one last time - please come off the table,” said the barmaid with a sigh.

  “Don’t… don’t tell me to come off this table!” screeched Jack, almost losing his balance and falling off anyway. “This is my table! I… have a psychic link to it! Only I can use this table! Big Guy, back me up!”

  Grohm snorted and took another drink.

  “SEE?” said Jack. “He knows what’s up! Time to do a quantum jump to a bar that isn’t totally lame! Earthtable… ENGAGE!”

  With that, holographic Jack jumped high in the air. Grohm nonchalantly moved his drink away just as Jack came crashing back down, his feet slipping out from under him and the table folding beneath his weight. Jack hit the floor hard and lay there, stunned. Grohm snorted and took another drink, as though nothing had happened. The barmaid shook her head.

  “Blasted alien kids,” she muttered.

  That’s when the hologram froze, the recording having come to an end. Jack looked at the holo, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror and embarrassment as Fredreek and Wilvelm laughed hysterically. “Earthtable – engage!” repeated Fredreek, who laughed so hard after he said it, tears formed in his eyes.

  “I’ve watched this three times now,” gasped Wilvelm. “And it just gets funnier!”

  “You gotta be kidding me!” said Jack, horribly embarrassed. “That… that really happened?”

  “Yep,” said Fredreek.

  “In public?”

  “Uh-huh,” said Wilvelm.

  “How?” screeched Jack. He looked at Mourdock who was doing his best to suppress a smile. “What the heck happened to me? I don’t remember doing any of that!”

  Mourdock choked back a laugh. “Apparently, you were quite drunk,” he said.

  “Drunk???” said Jack in disbelief. “But all I had was a soda! You can’t get drunk off soda!”

  “Soda?” said Fredreek, confused. “What the heck is a soda?”

  “You know, soda-pop!” said Jack.

  “Actually, you had a Fizzy-Pop,” explained Mourdock. “It’s one of the most potent synthahols in the galaxy. Its molecular structure adjusts itself once ingested to suit the organism that consumes it and rapidly creates an intoxicated state geared specifically for whomever is drinking it.”

  “It’s for those poor souls who
just want to leave life behind and let all their worries go,” said Wilvelm. “’Fizzy-Pop will make you drop,’ as the saying goes.”

  “It normally only takes a few ounces to get you thoroughly blitzed,” said Fredreek. “But not you, Earthman. No, a few ounces isn’t enough for a Hero of the Empire! You went FULL GLASS!”

  “NO ICE!” chimed in Wilvelm, causing him and Fredreek to begin busting up laughing once more. “Takes a real hairy chest to do that, Hero.”

  Jack buried his face in his hands. “Oh, God,” he muttered.

  “When the Peacekeepers discovered how much you’d consumed, they decided the best course of action was to lock you in here until you sobered up,” said Mourdock. “They contacted your Attaché Android about your status, and after about eight hours, it decided to contact me.”

  Jack looked up at Mourdock, wide-eyed. “Eight hours?” Jack said.

  “Yeah, we came by earlier to check up on you,” chuckled Fredreek. “You were still on your bender. You kept calling everyone Luke, insisted you were everyone’s father, and repeatedly sang a song about how you like big butts.”

  “I thought it was actually a rather catchy tune,” chimed in Wilvelm.

  “In total, after you passed out, you’ve been zonked for close to sixteen hours,” said Mourdock.

  Jack sighed, then winced as a crackle of pain shot through his head. “Kill me,” he muttered. “Kill me now.”

  Mourdock produced a drink can from his satchel and popped its top, holding it out to Jack. “Here, drink this,” he said.

  Jack looked at it suspiciously. “What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s called Synthbrosia,” said Mourdock. “Don’t worry, it’s safe. It’s got all types of vitamins and nutrients in it. It’ll help rehydrate you and make you feel better.”

  “The perfect hangover cure,” said Wilvelm.

  “What’s it taste like?” asked Jack, taking the drink and looking at the golden liquid within.

  “That’s the thing about Synthbrosia,” said Fredreek. “It’s designed to taste like the thing you want it to taste like at any given moment. That way, your thirst is always quenched.”