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

by Matthew Kadish

  The throne room crumbled into dust and ashes all around, revealing the universe at large beyond its walls. One by one, the stars started extinguishing, leaving one vast, great void. Jack looked on, helpless, as the light before him morphed into the shape of a great, all-seeing eye.

  And when that eye closed, all that was left was emptiness.

  Jack gasped as his eyes shot open. His body shivered as though he were cold, and his breathing became rapid. Visibly shaken as much as Jack was, Shanks opened his eyes, as well, the final feeling of terrible emptiness from the vision still fresh within him. Jack pulled his hands away and scrambled to his feet, his entire body jittering as if it had been electrified.

  “What the heck was that???” Jack demanded.

  “I do not know,” replied Shanks.

  “That… that was nothing like the Equilibrium thing you were talking about!” Jack cried, pacing around just to work off what he was feeling. “What did any of that even mean?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Don’t you know anything?” asked Jack, agitated.

  “That vision was a product of your own mind,” Shanks replied. “If anyone is to decipher its meaning, it is you.”

  Jack took a deep breath. He was starting to calm down. “I came to you for answers, dude. Not more questions.”

  “I never promised answers,” Shanks replied calmly. “I can only tell you what I know. And I do not know what it was we saw.”

  Jack looked around the room, frustrated. “Yeah, well… thanks for nothing,” he muttered. “I’m gonna have to go swimming in a pool of Fizzy-Pop to get that crap out of my head, now.”

  Jack turned and began heading for the door. “Jack,” Shanks called out after him. Jack stopped and turned to look at the monk. “Your mind is trying to tell you something,” Shanks said. “It’s trying to warn you of some terrible danger. Do not ignore it. Trust yourself. When you decipher the message it was trying to communicate, come back to me. I will be here for you.”

  Jack frowned. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Whatever.”

  With that, Jack left. Shanks sat quietly for a moment, pondering the images he’d seen in Jack’s mind. It had been a disturbing vision, instilling a feeling of unease within him that he still had not been able to shake. If Jack had indeed achieved Equilibrium, then it was possible his mind knew more about what was occurring around him than he was aware of. If that were the case, then the vision they’d just shared might well be an indication that something was wrong here in the capitol, especially as it pertained to the Princess.

  The image of the red-eyed shadow Shanks had sensed during his meditation came to his mind. The way the shadow was cast, by someone standing behind him unnoticed,concerned the monk.

  There was something hiding out there. Something extremely dangerous.

  Chapter 42

  Grohm was on his eighteenth mug of Hexamethyl Etheroxide as he downed the last drop from his massive metal cup. When he’d drained what was left inside, he slammed the mug down, causing his table to wobble. “Another,” he called out, to no one in particular.

  The barmaid came waddling up, her large eyes looking at Grohm warily. “Don’t ya think you’ve had enough, hon?” she asked.

  Grohm gazed at her, his eyes narrowing. A belch erupted from him that was so powerful, it practically bent the barmaid’s beehive hairdo back as the skin of her face rippled from the wind he emitted. “No,” Grohm replied.

  The barmaid sighed. “Another mug of HexEth, comin’ up,” she muttered as she hauled the large metal cup back to the bar.

  Grohm sullenly hunched over his table, glancing around the room. The Boozskeller was fairly empty at that time of day. Just a couple of patrons were sitting around, enjoying drinks, and watching the Sports Programming & Observation Channel on the various visual displays. As the channel ran through the highlights of the previous day’s sporting events from around the Empire, its slogan “The Only Logical Place to Watch Sports” occasionally popped up.

  Grohm grunted. He’d been drinking too much, and it was taking more and more Hexamethyl Etheroxide to get him drunk as his tolerance to the liquid grew. Soon, it wouldn’t have any effect on him at all, and when that happened, Grohm would have to find something else to occupy him.

  Then, the front door to the bar opened and another Rognok lumbered inside. Grohm raised his brow curiously at the sight of another one of his kind. This Rognok had rust-colored skin and a chipped tooth that jutted from his lower lip. He was clad in the leather and steel armor of a mercenary, his frame almost as big as Grohm’s, and he, too, wore a berserker collar around his neck.

  “Braak hear you serve HexEth here,” the Rognok said loudly. “Bring mug! Braak thirsty!”

  Braak was making his way to the bar when he saw Grohm sitting in the corner. He gazed at Grohm for a moment until his brow raised with recognition. He turned and walked up to the table, smiling at Grohm smugly. “Braak know you,” the Rognok said with a chuckle. “You be Grohm.” Grohm snorted and looked away, not interested in chatting. Braak kicked out a chair and sat down, hunching over the table, his large arms resting on it. “Grohm the Weak,” Braak jeered, mockingly.

  Grohm glared at Braak, his eyes narrowing. “Grohm not weak,” he replied.

  “Braak remember,” said Braak, tapping the side of his head with a massive finger. “Battle council back on Rognok, long time ago. Grohm gave speech on why not to fight.” Braak began laughing, as though the memory were funny. “Grohm say battle with other Rognoks pointless. Made Grohm sad. Other Rognoks laughed. Was funny. But Grohm not joking, was Grohm?”

  A low growl escaped from Grohm as he met the mocking gaze of Braak.

  “What else you call Rognok who refuses to fight?” asked Braak, smiling at Grohm with ridicule. “Other than weak?”

  “Other Rognoks fought,” said Grohm quietly. “Now all dead.”

  “It is glorious to die in battle,” replied Braak.

  “Rognoks did not die in battle,” said Grohm simply. “Rognoks murdered. There is no glory in murder.”

  “Nor is there in being weak,” grunted Braak. “Better to die strong than weak.”

  “Death is death,” muttered Grohm. “It does not care about strength. Death only matters if it is for something greater. And all Rognoks died for nothing.”

  Braak chuckled and leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight. “Grohm thought Rognoks should leave homeworld,” he said. “Talk to weaklings. Learn from them. Tell Braak… what has Grohm learned? Other than how to be sad and pathetic?”

  Grohm’s fist tightened. “Braak not dead,” Grohm sneered. “Braak left, too. Could not cut it in battle on Rognok? Had to look for easier opponents?”

  Braak grimaced. “Braak went berserk,” he said. “Could not control anger. Was sent into exile. Same as Grohm.”

  “Then Braak weak, as well,” replied Grohm.

  Braak slammed his fist on the table, causing it to shake. He growled at Grohm. “Braak strong,” he said. “Anger makes Rognoks strong!”

  “Happy, sad, angry, calm,” muttered Grohm. “Makes no matter now. Rognoks all but gone. Strong or weak… what is the point? There is nothing left to fight for.”

  “That always Grohm’s problem,” said Braak. “Think there need to be meaning behind battle. Meaning to life. Reasons why Rognoks exist. Had crazy idea that emotions were a good thing. And all Rognoks laughed at you.”

  Grohm snorted sadly and looked down at his hands as he forced himself to unclench his fists. “And now, there are no Rognoks left to laugh at anything,” Grohm said quietly before getting up from his seat and heading for the door.

  “There is Braak!” Braak called out over his shoulder. “Braak will laugh at Grohm the Weak. And Braak will laugh at all Rognoks not strong enough to survive! Good riddance to them! And good riddance to homeworld!”

  Grohm stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as Braak turned back toward the table, chuckling.

  Outside the establishme
nt of Miracle Max’s Blave & Boozskeller, it was a rather nice and peaceful day as the sun was starting to set and citizens were making their way home from work. So one can certainly imagine the surprise of the passing pedestrians when an eight-foot tall rust-colored Rognok was hurled through the solid wall of the boozskeller’s façade, tumbling as he hit the ground, sending chunks of the building scattering every which way.

  As innocent bystanders screamed in surprise and fled, Braak shook his head to clear away the daze from the collision he’d just endured and lumbered to his feet. He scowled as Grohm stepped through the newly-gaping hole in the wall and onto the street, the Rognok’s red and black eyes angry and intense.

  “What did you do?” shrieked the barmaid. “You busted a hole in our wall! Who’s going to pay for this???”

  Grohm growled at the barmaid, and she immediately quieted, retreating back into the bar with a fearful squeak. Sneering at Grohm, Braak grunted and punched the ground with his huge fist.

  “Battle?” Braak asked.

  “Battle,” Grohm replied.

  Braak roared and charged right toward Grohm, his fist cocked back as he did so. Just as he swung, Grohm stepped to the side and stuck out his foot, tripping Braak as he rushed by and sending the massive alien stumbling to the ground, crashing through tables and chairs within the boozskeller.

  Before Braak could get back to his feet, Grohm stomped on his head, smashing it into the ground so forcefully, it caused a crater. Grohm stepped aside casually as Braak pushed himself up on his arms and shook his head vigorously.

  “Ow,” grumbled Braak.

  “On feet,” ordered Grohm.

  Braak growled and hopped back up, raising his fists. He screamed as he began throwing punches. Grohm bobbed and weaved to and fro, dodging each of Braak’s punches as he backed away. The fight spilled outdoors once again.

  “Hold still!” Braak cried. “Fight!”

  “If Braak insists,” Grohm replied, finally throwing an uppercut that landed square under Braak’s jaw, dazing him. Grohm grabbed Braak and threw him, sending the Rognok crashing through some parked hovercars on the street.

  Braak quickly recovered, grabbing the nearest hovercar, his massive hands digging into its frame. Braak twirled and hurled the hovercar at Grohm, the vehicle impacting him full on, knocking Grohm back as the vehicle tumbled over him and crashed into another building.

  Braak leapt up into the air. The massive alien roared, his raised fist poised to impact right on top of Grohm. Grohm rolled to the side just as Braak landed, his fist embedding itself at least a foot into the concrete where Grohm’s head had been a moment before.

  Grohm backhanded Braak with his fist, causing the rust-colored Rognok to stumble to the side as Grohm got to his feet. All around them, people were screaming and running for cover as the two hulking brutes squared off.

  “Grohm make Braak angry!” Braak sneered.

  “Good,” Grohm growled. “Let Grohm see how strong anger really make Braak.”

  Grohm cocked his fist back and threw a punch that impacted Braak with such force, it caused the windows of the buildings around them to crack. Braak stumbled, but then threw his own punch which caught Grohm square in the jaw, causing him to stumble, as well. The two Rognoks stood toe to toe, beating on each other relentlessly.

  Sirens blared in the distance. Patrolling security-bots were the first to arrive, transforming from motorcycle-like vehicles to their android forms, massive cannons on their arms at the ready as they approached the battling Rognoks. “Cease and desist,” the security-bots droned. “Disturbance of the peace will not be tolerated.”

  Grohm threw a haymaker that hit Braak so hard, the Rognok flew back into the security-bots, crushing them. Grohm lumbered forward and pressed his attack as Braak got to his feet, inadvertently stomping on the heads of the security-bots as he fell back defensively.

  “Grohm hit harder than Braak remember,” Braak muttered.

  “Grohm happy to refresh memory,” Grohm grunted as he attacked.

  It didn’t take long for Peacekeeper Cruisers to descend upon the fight, surrounding the battling Rognoks and shining spotlights on them from high up above. Peacekeeper hovercars also sped to the scene, creating a perimeter around the brawl.

  A shuttle landed not far away from the inside of the perimeter. A Peacekeeper Lieutenant climbed out with a small squad of officers. They all had their weapons drawn and aimed at the Rognoks as the aliens continued beating on each other.

  The Lieutenant gazed at the spectacle with distain. “Blasted Rognoks,” he grumbled under his breath. “Always nothing but trouble. Who allows them into the city?”

  “Orders, sir?” asked one of the Peacekeepers.

  The Lieutenant sighed. “Clear the area! Get all the civilians as far back as you can! And get me their berserker collar codes!”

  As the Peacekeepers all took up position around the area, Grohm and Braak continued to slug it out, not caring about the activity that was occurring around them. “Grohm thought Braak was strong?” Grohm said as he punched Braak hard across the face. The rust-colored Rognok started to look dazed. “Thought anger made Braak strong? Where is this strength now?”

  Braak threw a clumsy punch which Grohm ducked under and rose back up with a powerful uppercut. The blow lifted Braak off his feet and sent him falling onto the ground. Grohm pounced on top of his opponent, pinning him down with his knees as he began to pummel Braak’s face with his fists.

  The Peacekeeper Lieutenant tapped the datapad strapped to his wrist to bring up his shuttle’s megaphone system. “Attention, Rognoks,” he announced. “This is the Capitol City Peacekeeper Service. We have you surrounded and order you to cease your fighting immediately. If you do not comply, we will be forced to take action.”

  Grohm ignored the warning, continuing to assault Braak, wrapping one hand around the Rognok’s throat. “Braak laugh at Grohm?” Grohm yelled as his fist came crashing down into Braak’s face.

  “I repeat: If you do not comply, we will be forced to take action!” the Peacekeeper Lieutenant said forcefully.

  Grohm ignored the Peacekeepers, punching Braak again. “Braak laugh at all Rognoks who died?” he bellowed.

  “You are to cease and desist immediately! You will not be warned again!” the Peacekeeper Lieutenant barked.

  “Braak laugh at destruction of homeworld???” Grohm rumbled as he slammed his fist into Braak’s face with such force, it caused the ground beneath the Rognok’s skull to crack and crater. “BRAAK NOT LAUGHING NOW!” screamed Grohm.

  “That’s it,” said the Peacekeeper Lieutenant. “Activate the collars!”

  As soon as the command had been given, the lights on both Grohm and Braak’s collars changed to blue, and tendrils of electricity erupted from the inner portion of them. Both Grohm and Braak tensed at the sensation, the jolt from the collar causing Grohm to release his grip on Braak’s throat and fall to his side. The two Rognoks twitched on the ground until the surge from the collar subsided. Grohm and Braak groaned, both of them trying to push themselves back up to their feet.

  “Hit them again!” the Lieutenant ordered.

  Braak and Grohm grunted as the collars shocked them a second time, their faces strained as they tried to fight against the intense current that was coursing through their skulls.

  “Turn up the voltage!” commanded the Lieutenant.

  “Power level is already up as high as it will go, sir!” one of the Peacekeepers responded.

  “Then why aren’t they incapacitated yet?” the Lieutenant demanded.

  The two Rognoks were on their hands and knees, facing one another, as they struggled against the current that was running through them.

  “Braak… wrong…” Braak grunted. “Grohm… not… weak…”

  Grohm raised his head, his face strained as he fought against the ravages of his berserker collar. Braak raised his head, as well. When their gazes met, anger raged in their eyes as they steeled themselves against the
current from their collars, their muscles bulging and ridged as they fought to keep from succumbing to it.

  “Battle?” growled Braak.

  “Battle!” agreed Grohm.

  The two Rognoks grabbed their collars, grunting at the pain of wrapping their hands around them. And then, with a powerful yank, they both ripped the collars from their necks, to the shock of pretty much every Peacekeeper who was watching from the perimeter. When they were finally free of the current that had been designed to incapacitate them, the two Rognoks both turned and angrily looked at the stunned Peacekeepers.

  “Oh… kitten,” muttered the wide-eyed Lieutenant.

  Grohm and Braak scowled at the Lieutenant, before springing to their feet and charging right toward him.

  Meanwhile, up in Megabase Cygnus, Petty Officer Yurg Kyler was sitting down at his monitoring station with a nice, fresh cup of coffee. He sighed pleasantly, reflecting on how bland and stress-free his position was, before taking a sip of the steaming liquid. No sooner had he swallowed than a Peacekeeper emergency signal from the Capitol came in at his station.

  “Megabase Cygnus Global Surgical Strike and Rapid Response Unit,” Kyler said. “What is the nature of the crisis?”

  “This is Capitol Peacekeeper Lieutenant Macklemorb in grid 80-G-A1!” came the frantic voice of the Lieutenant as the sounds of chaos and destruction almost obscured his attempt to communicate. “Code 7-11 in progress! Request immediate assistance! Repeat – request immediate assistance!”

  Kyler sat up, alarmed, accidentally knocking over his coffee. He cursed and quickly typed the code into the computer. He wasn’t familiar with Code 7-11, but whatever it was didn’t sound good. The monitor at his console replied to his query with: Rognok Berserker Attack.

  “Confirm, Lieutenant,” Kyler said. “You’re dealing with a Berserker attack?”

  “We’re not dealing with it! We’re running away from it!” screamed the panicked Peacekeeper into his radio. “There are two of them, blast it! Two! We’re not equipped to handle this!”