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

by Matthew Kadish

  Jack looked at the cigarette in his hand warily. “Are there, like, any side-effects?”

  “Nah, it’s perfectly safe,” said Fredreek. “You might get kinda hazy at first because basically you’ll feel like you’re dreaming, but that eventually goes away. Go on. Give it a try.”

  Jack was nervous. He’d never smoked anything before. He glanced at Mourdock, who gave him a comforting nod. That made Jack figure if his companions said it was okay, he might as well trust them. He put the Dreamleaf cigarette in his mouth, took a drag, and instantly regretted it.

  Jack felt his lungs burn and he began coughing uncontrollably. Wilvelm and Fredreek both laughed as Jack gasped for air, grasping at his chest in pain. Mourdock took the Dreamleaf cigarette from Jack and gave him a couple pats on the back. “First time’s always the worst,” he said, before taking a puff himself. “You get used to it.”

  I don’t think there’s going to be a second time, Jack thought, his eyes watering as he caught his breath. His head had started hurting again, and he lamented his decision to try smoking anything, ever.

  Then a private door to the room opened.

  “Ah, the surprise has arrived!” cheered Wilvelm as he and Fredreek raised their glasses toward the door, the biggest smiles ever on their faces. Jack turned as six of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his life came walking in, wearing clothes so skimpy, they made him blush. They all looked like supermodels, and his chest tingled in nervous excitement when the women all smiled at him.

  “Hello, boys,” the blonde one at the front said.

  Wilvelm and Fredreek put their arms around Jack, who was still unable to take his gaze off the girls before him. “Earthman,” said Wilvelm proudly, “may I present to you our Seraphym companions for the evening!”

  “You ever party with a Seraphym before, Earthman?” asked Fredreek.

  “No,” squeaked Jack.

  “Well, you are in for a treat tonight!” said Wilvelm, giving Jack a slap on the back.

  “I’ll take that as my cue,” said Mourdock as he began to head for the exit. “You guys have fun.”

  “Wait, you’re not staying?” asked Jack.

  “Nah, I’m going to be in the club mingling,” Mourdock replied. “But feel free to enjoy yourself without me. It shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “Why isn’t he staying?” Jack asked after Mourdock left the room.

  “Because he’s in luuuuuurrrrv,” said Wilvelm. “Mourdock’s only ever had eyes for the Princess. Every other girl may as well not exist.”

  “He’s also got to be careful not to break the conditions of his marriage contract,” said Fredreek as he downed the rest of his drink and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, all the while eyeing the six gorgeous Seraphym in front of him. “Conditions, I’m happy to say, which do not apply to us!”

  “Go on, Earthman,” said Wilvelm. “Take your pick.”

  “Pick?”

  “Yeah, which one you want?”

  Jack looked at the six women nervously, each one smiling at him. They were all so beautiful, he had no idea how to choose one, let alone what he’d do with her once he did. Finally, one of the Seraphym stepped forward. She had long, luxurious auburn hair, bright green eyes, and one of the most perfect bodies Jack had ever seen. She smiled and traced his jawline coyly with her finger. “Don’t be scared, great Hero,” she said. “We don’t bite. Unless you want us to, anyway.”

  Jack gulped.

  The Seraphym took Jack by the hand and looked at Wilvelm and Fredreek. “I’ll loosen up your friend,” she said. “I’m sure you boys can figure out what to do with yourselves, can’t you?”

  “Oh, I’m sure we can,” said Fredreek as he and Wilvelm wasted no time ushering the remaining girls toward the bar.

  The auburn haired Seraphym led Jack to a nearby chair and pushed him down into it. Before Jack knew what was happening, she’d sat on his lap and had her arms wrapped around his neck. “My name is Dynetta,” she said.

  “Uh…” said Jack, briefly forgetting his own name. “Jack, I’m Jack.”

  Dynetta giggled. “I know,” she said. “I’ve never gotten to host a Hero of the Empire before. I’m so excited!”

  “R-really?”

  “Of course,” she purred. “Can’t you tell?”

  Jack’s brain began to tingle and his vision began to blur. He shook his head, trying to focus. Is this the Dreamleaf kicking in? he wondered.

  “Are you okay?” Dynetta asked as she reached around and expertly massaged the back of Jack’s neck with her hand. “You seem so tense.”

  “I’m, uh… I’m, uh…” sputtered Jack. He felt as though his brain was struggling to work right. The room around him appeared to be in a dream-like haze. He looked over and saw Wilvelm and Fredreek on couches with their Seraphym. It was almost as though they were all moving in slow motion as they drank and laughed.

  “Just try and relax,” Dynetta said, gently rubbing Jack’s chest. “We’re going to have lots of fun tonight.”

  Jack looked up at Dynetta, and then something strange happened. His vision blurred, and then came into crisp focus. Only now, Dynetta was no longer the auburn-haired supermodel she’d previously appeared to be. Now, she was a bald, slender alien, with pure white skin. Her face was featureless, with a thin slit for a mouth, and dark, almond shaped eyes. She radiated a golden light, which shone around her like an aura.

  Dynetta looked at Jack strangely, before gasping and scrambling to her feet, away from him. “What are you doing?” she shrieked. “Stop it! Stop it!”

  Dynetta covered her featureless body with her arms, as though she were trying to hide nakedness. Jack looked at her, confused. He turned to see Wilvelm and Fredreek sitting with the other Seraphym, who now appeared identical to Dynetta. “Whoa, whoa,” said Wilvelm. “What’s wrong?”

  Dynetta turned to the other Seraphym. “He can see us!” she hissed.

  The Seraphym looked at Jack in horror, all of them crying out and covering themselves. Wilvelm and Fredreek got to their feet, looking around confused. “I don’t understand,” said Fredreek. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know!” said Jack, standing up, as well.

  “We must leave!” Dynetta said. “We cannot be seen by outsiders!”

  “Waitaminute!” protested Wilvelm. “I’ve already paid for the whole evening! You guys just can’t go for no reason!”

  “We will not subject ourselves to one such as him!” insisted Dynetta, pointing at Jack.

  “What the blazes are you talking about, you crazy woman?” asked Wilvelm.

  Jack’s head began to ache once more. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, taking a deep breath. He didn’t know what was happening with him, but he did know he was ruining the night of his new friends. “It’s okay!” said Jack, holding up his arms as though he were surrendering and keeping his eyes shut. “I’m sorry for offending anybody! I’m going to go out to the club and leave you guys alone. Will that make everything cool?”

  “As long as we are no longer seen by you, we are happy to stay,” he heard Dynetta respond.

  “Okay, then I’m just gonna go,” said Jack as he began heading toward the exit.

  Wilvelm and Fredreek quickly caught up with him before he had a chance to leave. “Hey, you don’t have to go, Earthman,” said Fredreek.

  “Yeah, we can ditch these crazy Seraphym,” said Wilvelm. “I’ve never seen them act so unprofessional before.”

  “No, it’s cool. You guys stay and have fun,” said Jack. “To be honest, this isn’t really my thing anyway.”

  “You sure?” asked Fredreek.

  “Yeah. Don’t worry about me. I’ll go track down Mourdock and hang out with him.”

  “Hey, what did you do to make the Seraphym so upset?” asked Wilvelm.

  Jack shrugged. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I guess I just have a way with the ladies.”

  And with that, Jack left the room, his head hurting him something fier
ce.

  Chapter 21

  Stratum one was the true underbelly of the capitol. Situated far below all the other stratums, it was a dark and dirty wasteland, home to only the direst of souls who lived within the city’s limits. Sunlight never made it to this level, and somehow all the filth and muck from the other stratums found its way down to its streets. The infrastructure of the level had broken down long ago, ensuring it was filled with tattered roads, broken lights, and few usable public utilities.

  Even the maintenance androids assigned to maintaining the stratum were falling apart, unable to keep up with the mounting task of keeping the level somewhat habitable. The air was thick with dust and dirt, trash was accumulated everywhere (complete with multitudes of flies buzzing about it), and it was rare to find an area that was well enough lit to see anything but muddy shadows all around.

  Paragon Hasatan covered his mouth with his hand as he walked through the spattering of poor souls who dwelled in this stratum. As if it weren’t hard enough for him to breathe the air, the stench was so foul it made him sick, as well. Occasionally he’d see a body, half-buried among trash and rubble, lying against the dirty and corroded walls of the supertower foundations that he passed. The sick, the homeless, and the crazy all travelled in the shadows along with him. It always struck him as pathetic that a civilization as advanced as the Regalus Empire would allow such living filth to exist. But no matter how advanced and enlightened a society was, it could never truly save people from their inherent nature. There would always be dregs.

  Hasatan subtly glanced at the small datapad he carried with him, showing him a map of the stratum. He eventually found his way to his destination, a dirty alleyway even more off the beaten path than the others. Piles of trash were stacked up high against its walls, and steam escaped from a vent in one of the buildings, making what little light there was seem muted and hazy. The Paragon surveilled the alley before him, looking for the purpose of his visit to this abhorrent place.

  “You may reveal yourself,” he said. “I am here.”

  Hasatan heard a rustle as bags of trash fell and a figure emerged from behind them. It was clad in a tattered black robe with a hood pulled low over its face. The figure approached, stopping at the edge of the single overhead light, as though it were a barrier he could not cross. Hasatan gazed at the figure, amused with its current state of affairs. “Zarrod,” said Hasatan, as though he were addressing a common beggar on the street.

  Zarrod pulled back his hood, revealing his blackened, skeletal face, and gazed at the man with his burning red eyes. “Do you have what I asked you for?” the Deathlord inquired, apparently not wishing to exchange pleasantries.

  Hasatan pursed his lips and looked Zarrod up and down smugly. “Not as impressive without your armor, I must say,” he muttered. “How is it you were even able to get to this planet in the pathetic state you’re in?”

  “I may no longer possess full mastery of Serverchur,” Zarrod grumbled. “But I can still control the slythru.”

  “Regardless, it was risky of you to do such a thing,” Hasatan said. “Had you been discovered—”

  “I wasn’t,” replied Zarrod flatly, as if to put the matter to rest.

  Hasatan sighed. “I take it Verrutus doesn’t know you are here?”

  “Yes,” said Zarrod. “And I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You know why,” Zarrod replied.

  Hasatan smirked, smugly enough to be sure to annoy the Deathlord. “I wouldn’t blame him for culling you, you know,” he replied. “Not after what you allowed to happen.”

  “I am here under orders from our Lords,” Zarrod stated. “Whatever you think of me, you are still loyal to them, are you not, Convert?”

  Hasatan bristled. He, like others who were not pure-Deathlord, did not like that term, and Zarrod knew it. “Loyalty was never a question,” Hasatan replied. “Competence, however, is. Losing both the Planetkiller fleet and the invincible armada? To a mere boy no less? It’s not only thrown all our plans into disarray, it’s also just downright embarrassing.”

  “He was no mere boy,” Zarrod replied. “Thinking otherwise was the mistake I made. Plans change and evolve, as you well know. What happened was a mere setback, nothing more.”

  Hasatan chuckled derisively. “A mere setback, eh?” he muttered. “We’ve had to step up our attacks on the Rim colonies for a month to try and distract from your loss and keep young Skyborn away from the capitol. Verrutus has had to divert entire crops of slythru from their intended destinations and to devote them to inciting rebellions to keep the armies of both the Empire and the Legacies occupied and to prevent them from actually taking the fight to us when we are at our weakest. And don’t even get me started on what your failure means for all the work Melegogg and Ashtoroth have done.”

  “Spare me the lecture. I’ve already sat before the judgment of our Lords,” growled Zarrod. “I am here because a new plan is in motion. And like it or not, despite my current situation, you still answer to me. Now, did you bring what I asked for?”

  Hasatan frowned. He approached Zarrod and took a small package from his pocket, slapping it into the Deathlord’s hands. “This was not easy to come by,” he said. “Especially on such short notice.”

  “Yet you came through, as I knew you would,” said Zarrod.

  “Tell me what your plans are,” Hasatan said. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “It is none of your concern.”

  “I’m making it my concern.”

  “Then get used to being concerned,” Zarrod said simply.

  Hasatan grimaced. “Very well, have it your way,” he said. “But if you should cause any discord which would interfere with my mission, or Verrutus’s for that matter, do not think we won’t hesitate to destroy you. We’ve been entrusted with orders as well, don’t forget.”

  “Do not fear,” Zarrod replied. “I will ensure our Lord’s orders are carried out, one way or another.”

  “However that should unfold, this is the last piece of help you shall receive from me,” Hasatan said. “Consider my obligation fulfilled.”

  Hasatan started to walk away when Zarrod called out to him. “Before you go, there is one more thing I need from you, Hasatan,” he said. “And I’m afraid I must insist upon it.”

  Hasatan turned and glared at Zarrod. “And what might that be?”

  “Something only you can give me,” the Deathlord replied, his ghastly face twisting into what Hasatan thought looked suspiciously like a smile.

  Chapter 22

  Jack stumbled out of the Diamond Room and vigorously shook his head. He felt so strange, almost like he was sleepwalking – conscious, yet asleep. His entire brain buzzed, and the world around him seemed to shift in-and-out of focus.

  The lights of the club were flashing, alternating colors as they strobed and moved along with the frenetic music that was blaring. A sea of dancers, made up of various beings and creatures, was in front of the stage. Jack walked toward the scene as though he were in a trance, trying desperately to get his brain to focus. He leaned up against a nearby metal pillar, gazing at the crowd before him as he watched them all move to the music. Briefly, he thought he saw a familiar figure among the crowd – it was a dark figure with fiery red eyes, clad in the fearsome armor of a Deathlord Supreme. But as soon as Jack recognized it, it faded away.

  I feel like I’m dreaming, he thought, rubbing his head. This is so weird!

  “Hey, hey kid,” came a seedy sounding voice. Jack turned to see a skinny man in a long, dark coat beside him. He had unruly looking hair, two prominent antennae jutting from his forehead, and a wispy moustache which served to make his upper lip look like it had dirt on it. “You wanna buy some death sticks?” the man asked, conspiratorially.

  “Um... what are death sticks?” asked Jack, struggling to get his brain to focus.

  “It's an incredibly addictive drug that'll dramatically shorten your lifespan
each time you take it.”

  “So… it'll kill me?”

  “Oh, most definitely.”

  “Why in the world would I want to buy something like that?”

  The dealer blinked at Jack as though that thought had never occurred to him before. “Hmmmm... maybe that's why I don't sell many of them,” mumbled the dealer. “I'm gonna go home and rethink my life.”

  The dealer sulked away, leaving Jack alone once more… at least, until professional wrestler Macho Man Randy Savage walked by. “Oooooh YEAH!” Macho Man Randy Savage said to Jack as his glittery cowboy hat sparkled in the light of the club. “Don’t do drugs! Drink your milk! STAY IN SCHOOL!”

  Jack blinked and the hallucination was gone. What the heck was that about? he wondered. Jack could feel his vision begin to blur, making the world feel like it was pulsing in and out of focus. He felt very flushed all of a sudden, his forehead feeling hot and feverish. His head started to hurt, but the pain would go away and then return. In the distance, he saw a hallway with the word “Restrooms” illuminated above the entrance. It was like a beacon to him, and he began making his way toward it.

  Jack skirted the edge of the dancefloor. The room was so crowded, it felt like he were wading through an ocean of tar just trying to get past everyone standing around. As he walked, he seemed to pass by people he knew. Scallywag appeared, drunk and wearing nothing but his robe and skimpy underpants. Grohm was on the dancefloor performing the cabbage-patch. Professor Green and Heckubus were in the corner playing patty-cake. And a man dressed in a suit made entirely of cheese pirouetted by.

  It’s not real, thought Jack insistently. It’s not real. It’s not real…

  Oddly enough, the man in the cheese suit was real, but Jack was in no condition to realize that. As he got closer and closer to the restrooms, another figure kept appearing to him – that of his father.

  “Jack,” he’d say, before fading away and appearing somewhere else among the crowd. “Jack…”

  “Dad?” Jack mumbled, his brain feeling numb.