 |
|
|
Post By The Hooded Hood's revised narrative Sat Mar 31, 2007 at 06:13:15 am EDT |
Subject
#308: Untold Tales of the Parody War: The Unfortunate Choices of Zachary Zelnitz | |
|
|
Next In Thread >> | |
| #308: Untold Tales of the Parody War: The Unfortunate Choices of Zachary Zelnitz The Junior Lair Legion Training Program and their friends: Kerry Shepherdson, fiery-tempered probability arsonist Fashion Accessory (Samantha Bonnington), fabric transmuter Harlagaz Donarson, demihemigod of thunder Denial (Danny Lyle), reality-denying self-defined supervillain Ham-Boy (Fred Harris), the world’s meatiest hero Kid Produce (Jasper Stevens), the vegetable-using vigilante Glitch, girl-Transformer robot from a distant star Captain Courageous (Christopher “Kit” Kipling), the world’s politest crimefighter Falconne (Belinda "Lindy" Wilson), streetwise problem teen with big bro's flight suit The Caphans: Prince Kiivan, usurped Emir of All Caph Ohanna of Raael, his companion and friend, keeper of the sacred treasures Vaahir of Viigo, outlaw warlord hero, Kiivan's mentor Prince Aarmus of Aarixus, collaborator claiming to now be Emir Kriige of Aarixus, his leman Those in need of a recap are directed to A Note for Those Unfamiliar with Caph. It’ll really help if you’re not up on green-skinned alien slave girls. Other Juniors material is available at The Junior LL Archive.  In their own words: Zachary Zelnitz, Hacker Nine: “What are you prepared to do,” the Hooded Hood asked me, “to save the world?” “I’m going to make people think,” I told him. “Everyone has to think for themselves, not do what they’re told. If people just thought and cared and stuff then the world would save itself.” The Hood seemed amused. “What a charming world-view,” he said. “And if saving the world required you to die, would you do it?” I shrugged. “I don’t really think about things like that. That’s superhero stuff. I’m a science anarchist. I’d fix things a different way.” “That’s avoiding the question, Mr Zelnitz. You sought to be apprenticed to me to learn. That’s why we’re here in the year 1702.” I looked round the stone-walled dungeon. “I thought we were still in Herringcarp?” “No. This is the headquarters of the Holy Inquisition of the Church of Order, under the iron reign of its High Cardinal Malvolio Frost. Down in the cells there is a very frightened young girl, nine years old, named Miriam. She’s about to be tortured to death.” The smells and sounds of the place started to get to me. “What the hell is this?” I asked. “Why did you bring me here?” “To watch Miriam die, or to save her,” the Hooded Hood replied. “Your choice.” “Save her,” I answered without even a thought. Who wouldn’t? The Hooded Hood handed me a gun. Anachronistic, I thought, and not me. “You have five minutes to get past the guard and rescue your friend Belinda Wilson’s direct ancestor,” the archvillain told me. “Use ingenuity if you wish, but know that if she is not released from her cell in that time she will most certainly die a horrible and prolonged death.” I tried the clever way. It didn’t work. That’s how I became a murderer. Belinda Wilson, Falconne You gotta admit, Caphan guys know how to look good in leather and steel. That Vaahir guy, all muscles and bronze-green skin glistening with combat oil. Mmmm. “It looks like we’ve started the revolution, then,” he grinned to Prince Kiivan. He smiled like a pirate. “It seemed like the thing to do,” the Emir answered pretty tersely. He was wound up tighter than Mr Epitome on Flag Day. I guess he had to be. This Balek Gorn thing is a ritual combat to the death usually. And there was one other thing about it. “It’s going to be a honking huge trap,” I reminded them again. “That’s why Kiivan’s walking into it,” Captain Courageous answered. “While everyone’s springing things on him nobody will be looking where we are.” “Which is going to visit Ancient Shadara, last of the Great Eyrie,” Shazana Pel answered vengefully. That psycho renegade pigeonwarrior was hefting her heavy spiked mace and preening her flight-assistance wings. Thonnagarians have this metal – g-spot metal or something – that manipulates gravity so they can fly and hit things with terminal velocity and stuff. It’s all to do with physics and stuff. Ask Zack if you need the nerd math. Anyway, Pel had this whole revenge scenario going that made Glenn Close look like Mary Poppins. “Except for you, Zack, and Glitch,” Kerry added. “You’re doing the whole take-over-the-planet’s computers bit again. We want control of the orbital defence platforms to discourage the PM from dreadnaughting in reinforcements.” “This place isn’t networked like Earth,” Zack warned. “Lots of independent systems and much less computerised control anyway. But I can over-ride the Lovetoad tech in the orbiting platforms.” “That’ll hold back a dreadnaught for maybe thirty seconds,” Glitch predicted. She didn’t seem bothered. “But it stops Aarmus and House Harkonnen from turning the weapons against our rebels on the ground.” “We have rebels now?” Fashion Accessory asked. “Do they need uniforms?” “Best I can tell there’s chaos across the whole planet,” Ham-Boy reported. “Not just the set-piece uprisings that Pel and Vaahir arranged but plenty of impromptu ones as well. The Pigeonwarriors on the ground are going to be plenty busy for a few hours.” “Pigeonwarriors caught on the ground deserve to die,” announced Pel. Harlagaz Donarson was twitching with anticipation. “Tis not the time for recaps,” he growled out. “This time for smiting and a smidgeon of reaving. And mayhap some carnage for the nonce.” “Seconded,” was all Kid Produce said as he fondled his celery. “So now we’ve got that clear can we get this done?” Danny asked. Something seemed to be bugging him. He kept glancing over at me and Zack. I don’t know what his problem was. Anyway, Kerry and Danny head off with Kiivan to do the trap thing. Vaahir climbs into this sweet stolen Skree battle tank to lead the land war. Pel goes off to settle more old scores, I guess. Kip Kipling tries to organise Gaz, Kid Produce, Ham Boy and FA to go and take on Thonngarian high command. Some guys never learn. Glitch led the way back to our stealth cruiser. Easiest way to jigger the platforms was apparently to land on one and get to their mainframe or whatever. Zack held me back for a moment alone. “Zack, I told you it’s over between us,” I said again. “You made that pretty clear,” Hacker Nine answered scornfully. “But listen… If everyone else was going to die but you could get away, if I could get you away safely before it all went horribly wrong, would you come with me?” “Way to have positive attitude, dude,” I told him. “I mean it,” he said. Poor kid looked pretty serious. I’ve only seem him this upset a couple of times before and both were my fault. “Lindy, would you run?” “And leave everybody to die? Kare and FA and Gaz and everybody?” I considered it. “I guess I’d try to do the dumb hero thing and save them all. Maybe I’m not such a great wannabe super-merc after all. Maybe they’d owe me afterwards. Yeah, that’s it.” “You can’t save them. Either you escape or you die with them. Which is it?” I shrugged. I was kind of puzzled but it still seemed like a hypothetical to me. “Escape, I guess, so I can kick the butt of whoever iced them. Why?” Zack looked more haunted than Danny. “No reason,” he replied. “Let’s go.” Zachary Zelnitz, Hacker Nine: “Leave me alone.” I didn’t care that the Hooded Hood could retcon me out of existence with one blink of those glowing green eyes. I deserved it. “It is too late for that now, Mr Zelnitz,” he told me coldly. “You made your choice when you came to me. You knew I could teach you things you would never learn with the Junior Lair Legion Training Programme.” I’d been there, the night before, in Visionary’s lighthouse. Kerry had done something insane with the popcorn maker and Vizh was cowering behind the sofa while Gaz tried to wrestle the device into submission. Everyone was laughing as if nothing had changed. Nothing had changed but me. “You made me into a murderer,” I accused the cowled crime czar. “You could have saved that girl yourself, just blinked her away with your Portal of Pretentiousness. You didn’t.” “What would you have learned then, Mr Zelnitz?” The Hood shifted and pointed out of the window. “Watch carefully. This is tomorrow.” A quick data-check on my monitor pad showed we were in Oslo. I was about to ask why when my sensors picked up the spike from the dimensional rift. It was opening right there in the square below us, a gap in the Celestian barrier protecting the world that the Parody Master’s Avawarriors were pouring through. “We have to do something!” I appealed to the Hood. “Come on, it’s your planet as well.” The Hood gestured for me to be silent and pointed again. Now I saw the LairJet, and suddenly there were Hatman, CrazySugarFreakBoy, Mr Epitome, Trickshot, Yuki, pouring out to handle the situation. It was all going fine until CSFB! dodged aside to rescue the passer-by who was frozen with panic in the path of an Avatank. He pulled her to safety but the pulse blast caught him on the shoulder, ripped his arm right off. The next shot killed him. “What?” I gasped. “But…” “Dreamcatcher dies, tomorrow in our timeline,” the Hooded Hood declared, “unless…” “Unless we intervene,” I agreed. “You’re monitoring the possible timelines, it’s an aspect of your retcon power, knowing what leads to what. So you can fix this.” “The Parody Master protects his forces from my abilities,” the archvillain told me. “I am not able to oppose his will directly. But I do perceive a way, if you will be my instrument.” “To save CSFB!? Sure. Let’s do it!” The Portal washed over us and suddenly we were on a rooftop overlooking the battle-site; except the battle hadn’t started yet. The rift was just opening, the first enemy just marching through. “Do you see the woman who cowered in fear and cost CrazySugarFreakBoy! his life?” the Hood asked me. “Sure. But have I time to get down there and get her away before it all happens?” The Hooded Hood handed me the high-velocity rifle. “You do not,” he told me. “Will this thing damage an Avatank?” I doubted. “No,” he replied. “But it can kill the woman. It is now the only way to save Mr Foxglove.” “Because you’ve set it up that way.” “Indeed.” “Either I kill that innocent woman or Dream dies and all the people he might save in the future will die as well.” “Indeed.” And that’s how I became a murderer of innocents. Vaahir of Viigo, Warlord of Caph: Even after all these weeks it still felt strange to be back on Caph. It felt as if it wasn’t my world any more. (The first Thonngararians came from the sky, as they always do, using the formation Pel calls the Arrow of Destruction. Air-exploding shrapnel bombs dealt with the first wave, before they set their z-alloy combat bands to repel it, and then it was down to in-close hand-to-hand combat.) Perhaps it was that Caph was occupied, its bright awnings dulled by neglect and its people bowed with shame. Perhaps it was the strange blood-red sun that rose that day, painting the Capitol with crimson fire. Perhaps my heart was still tangled with the people of Plxtrizar who I’d cared for during a long year or penance, and whose plight still called out to me. Perhaps Caph is just meaningless to me unless Kaara is there. (We encountered the first Avawarriors in the Grand Plaza. They ambushed the vanguard and did terrible carnage until I was able to get the Skree combat vehicle into place with the armour-piercing shells. Before they were conquered by the Parody Master the Skree warlords spent a lot of time working out ways to kill Avawarriors. The first rank went down in pieces.) I tried to define my feelings as I led the riot through the trade district towards the Imperial Palace. Caph felt too small now, like an old glove that no longer fit. The customs and culture seemed outdated somehow after I’d seen things and people across the galaxy. I had to admit (as I ripped my way through the first pack of war-glarns and eviscerated their pack-caller) that I was becoming ashamed of Caph. (Aarmus’ personal forces were thin on the ground because they’d put such heavy security on the Imperial Stadium for the balek gorn, but the Thonngarians are smarter than Aarmus and had left a strong rearguard to protect their military assets. We held back a few seconds until Pel arrived to crash the Thonnagarian raptorship she just stolen into the main batteries. Then we surged on.) Caph needs to change. We have so much that’s good here – art and music and dance and story, noble deeds and fierce honour – but as long as we keep ninety percent of our population as property I don’t think now that we will ever rise beyond savagery. I suppose I’ve come a long way from the callow boy who challenged the Lair Legion and nearly ended the universe. I hope I have. (Most of our battle-models predicted that we made swift early gains as people pressed forward without counting the cost. The test came when the counter-insurrection fought back and the body count mounted. That was when I had to lead the tank and press forward plas gar in hand, trusting that its force-field would protect me from the shrapnel and laser-bolts flying around me. On Caph leaders fight from the front.) The people on Caph call me the Last Warlord. They follow me because they think I will restore Caph. Am I leading them to their deaths? If I win will they wish I had died in the fight? Is there any possible ending for our world that can be called happy? (We pressed forward then, into the bloody square.) Harlagaz Donarson, demihemigod of thunder, scion of Ausgard: Avawarriors whomp most satisfyingly. Tis not required to hold back for fairness’ sake. Sometimes they must be whomped two or three times ere they get the message and lie down. I like Avawarriors. At least to whomp. Thonngarians are fairly whompable too. Yon magic metal they use to fly and press gravity makes them quite tough, so tis best to whomp them ere they fly off like unto girlies and use their long-range weapons. Or to throw buildings at them. Both are good. Mine boon comrades and I used the old secret tunnels running beneath the city to gain access to the royal palace. Tis most important to have secret tunnels beneath a royal palace, else how can the vile villains led by the scheming vizier be tromped when the time doth come? Kiivan’s ancestors must have thought this especially important, for there art secret tunnels built behind the secret tunnels. Of course, yon secret tunnels were guarded, for the vile Pigeonwarriors hath long since explored them with their cheaty science. A pack of fierce war-glarns came upon us first but wert subdued by Kid Produce and some strange kind of cucumbers. Next came Caphan mercenaries in the employ of the usurper Aarmus, but mine lady Fashion Accessory didst change yon combat suits from size 12 to size 8 and that wert the end of them as a threat. Tis not often I see mine friend Ham-Boy get angry, but he did when we broke into the Chambers of Discipline where Ancient Shadara’s police brought their captives for interrogation. There wert Parody Priests here too, alongside Thonnagarian torturers, and when HB saw what they had been doing he buried the whole lot of them under a pile of steaming offal. Arcane defences seldom anticipate a seething advancing wall of ninety tons of meat, in mine experience. Kit is a leader born and took the vanguard when we encountered the war machines of the Parody Master in the lobbies beside the great audience chambers. He hadst studied all kinds of reports of these devices and knew how each was best disabled and instructed us thusly. However, I found that crumpling them into small balls of broken metal and bowling them at Pigeonwarriors sufficed on every occasion. We went further into the palace, smiting as we went, looking for more people to whomp. At Samantha’s request I summoned up a heaving gale from a brooding south-westerly band of low pressure. It manifested just then as a seething sandstorm rattling through the streets and alleys of the Capitol, making flight impossible, reducing visibility to but a few feet. This gave Lord Vaahir’s band the advantage once again and prevented any whompees from fleeing the palace before we could smite them most wrothfully. “We need to find Shadara,” Kit told us as we stepped over the remains of another enclave of Thonnagarians. “She’s the one who masterminded the conquest of Caph in the first place. She needs to be brought to justice before a war crimes tribunal for her actions.” The leader had boasted of what he did to Caphan slaves ere we smote his squad like unto red-headed stepchildren, and now Kid Produce was demonstrating exactly where the vile warrior could put his z-alloy. “Or we could just kill Shadara,” KP said through gritted teeth. Mine lady Kerry says he hath anger issues – and this is mine lady Kerry saying this, mind you. At that point the citywide power grid went out, an early sign that mine lady Glitch has found her way to control yon citadel’s essential services infrastructure. That was how Kit described it. It meaneth she hadst found a way to break yon power station good. “Keep going,” Ham-Boy called out as Kid Produce lit the corridor ahead with a luminous artichoke. “We have to keep up the momentum.” That meant we must whomp more people as soon as possible, so I didst. Mortals of Middlinggard use more words than they need to and it takes up valuable carnage time. For example, I usually find, “Heilsa, vile villain, tis Harlagaz who smitheth thee to thine doom,” to usually be all the chat that art necessary. Courtesy, brevity, and bloody decapitation all in one moment. It wert all going quite well as we reached yon throneroom. Young Hacker Nine must have managed to infiltrate his virii into the force field generator. Virii are invisible tiny monsters which doth eat computers and maketh Hallie swear. Anyway, Hacker Nine didst make the cheating force field go away so I wast able to kick yon reinforced titanium doors across the length of the hall beyond. “Who thought peach and red was a good redecoration scheme for a throneroom?” demanded mine lady Fashion Accessory as we subdued the few elite guard inside. A hologram is like unto an electrical ghost that mirrors the image of a distant person too cowardly to face one in proper combat. One such hologram appeared now in the centre of the devastated chamber in the shape of Ancient Shadara, wrinkled war-leader of the Thonnagarian remnant. She looked as if all she ate wert sour lemons. “So there you are, fools,” she snapped, glaring at us as we moved forward o’er the fallen guards. “But you art not here,” I noted. “Come forth and be smitten, old woman, for thine tyranny is at an end and thy time ist nigh.” “My time’s nigh,” she agreed, looking at me as if I wert something tracked in from the goat shed. “But that’s because I’m very old and I’ve led my people to their turning point. When Thonnagar was destroyed many thought it was the end of the Pigeonrace. After today my people will be elite favoured warriors of the Parody Master, with access to his science to clone and restore our numbers, to recreate our sacred Z-alloy, to spread out across the stars. My work will be done, and I am satisfied.” “You might also want to get some work done on those jowls before you die,” FA advised. “I mean, eew. You really want to go down in history looking like a feathered bag lady?” “Your plans are over,” Kit declared. Captain Courageous doth like a good speech with the adversary. “Today is Caph’s liberation day. You don’t get to hand it over to the Parody Master. You just get to be taken down.” “If you dare come out from behind that hologram, that is,” Kid Produce added, making rude gestures with his parsley and sage. Ancient Shadara laughed. Twas a good villainous laugh, high and screeching, like unto the Witch of Ogdor. “Foolish children! I applaud Vaahir’s aptitude in recruiting you as an edge against the power of the Pigeonwarriors, but you have been sent to your deaths. Did you truly think that a coup against me would be this simple?” “Sure, why not?” Ham-Boy asked. “It’s not like Pigeonwarriors have a rep for being brainiacs, is it?” The walls of the throne room crumbled, revealing a circuit-lined frame beyond. It hummed with power that hadn’t been shut down. “How…”? gasped Kit. “Prince Aarmus wasn’t the only one to make a bargain with the Hooded Hood,” Shadara said. “In this case we merely agreed on some technology that would remain untouched by your confederate Hacker Nine.” “H9’s cleverer than you think,” mine lady Samantha retorted. “If you think there’s any tech-junk anywhere on this planet he won’t be able to take charge of eventually…” “The exact wording of my agreement with the Hood,” Ancient Shadara interrupted, “was that in exchange for me informing the Parody Master of your presence on Caph so he could be here in person to take in charge those of you who interested him, the Hood would instruct his minion Hacker Nine not to affect these systems which could subdue you for captivity.” “Waiteth!” I called out. “Explaineth that bit of yon plot again.” I wasn’t not particularly listening to the dialogue, waiting as I wast for the next bout of thumping to begin. It hadst almost sounded like Zack wert betraying us on the commands of yon vile cowled archvillain. “H9?” called Ham-Boy, staring up at the video-cameras behind the throne. “You wanna take this stuff down now? Any time right now?” “Everybody out of here,” called Kit urgently. “FA, we need…” Then the walls hummed and mine brain hurt most grievously. I saw mine comrades clutch their skulls and topple. Thonaggarians came in at me. I smote them. It wast hard to make mine limbs obey me. “He’s resisting a level nine brain-function suppressor!” Shadara cried out. “Bring him down, you tvleks!” Then many Pigeonwarriors fell upon me with their weapons and their claws. Mine left arm and leg wert no longer obeying me, but twas a most glorious battle for the nonce. Zachary Zelnitz, Hacker Nine: I was in over my head. I was so out of my league I never stood a chance. “You wanted knowledge,” the Hooded Hood told me. “You have it now. You wanted the power to save worlds. Now you know what you have to pay to do it.” “I never wanted this,” I told him, weeping. “Be careful what you wish for,” the cowled crime czar replied. “Welcome to my reality.” I tried to forget the things I’d just seen in the Portal of Pretentiousness, the future where the Parody Master won. I tried to forget the things he’d done to the Lair Legion, the things he’d done to Earth. “He must be stopped,” the Hood declared in those rich Latverian tones that make everything he says sound like an utter certainty. “His triumph would make the reign of the Red Watchman look like a picnic in the sun.” “I know,” I agreed. “But how do you stop someone who can do… that? Could Gamona assassinate him? Or the Purveyors?” “If there was any possible future where that happened I would be shaping it right now, Mr Zelnitz. But there is one confederate of mine who might be able to accomplish the task, albeit at considerable personal cost.” “The Bloodreaper?” The Hooded Hood looked at me. “You,” “M-me? You mean me?” “Indeed. I am preparing a trap for the Parody Master, a costly elaborate trap that will bring him to a place and time where he can be defeated. When the moment comes he will be angry, hurt, ready to unleash his full power to vent his feelings. In that moment he will face his most powerful opponent and at that one point he will be vulnerable.” “Sounds good, boss. But I don’t see how I fit in.” “The Parody Master will be destroyed when he comes to Caph IX, but the whole of that world will be consumed with him,” the Hood revealed. “This is why I have supported rebellion on that distant world, to arrange things to catch his attention.” “You’ll use Kiivan and Ohanna as bait? And their whole people?” “A great sacrifice is required for a great objective. I will also need to send in your former friends in the so-called Junior Lair Legion.” “To die? No way.” “You sacrificed Greta Timmerman to save CrazySugarFreakBoy! Now you must lead your friends to the slaughter to save the Parodyverse.” “And if I don’t?” The Hood shrugged. “You will. You’ve seen the future if you don’t.” “I can’t betray Kerry and FA and everyone to their deaths. I can’t kill a whole planet!” The Hood looked at me sadly for a moment. “I will provide you with a way to escape, Zachary. You and one other, whichever of your friends you might choose, save for Kerry Shepherdson or Daniel Lyle. That’s the most compassion I can offer you. Pick one to save. The rest stay behind.” And that’s how I became a traitor. Ohanna of Raael: “Why am I still alive?” asked Kriije of Aarixus as she regained consciousness. “Because I trained in emergency medicine at the Xnylonian Academy and because I learned anatomy from the Yellow Flashlights and know just where to stab you,” I answered. “Don’t move or you’ll do yourself harm that will be lethal. You really need immediate surgical attention but right now is not a good time to let the healers in.” Prince Aarmus’ leman looked around the darkened deserted audience hall. “I mean why didn’t you kill me,” Kriije asked. “Do you expect to torture and disfigure me later?” “To be honest, Kriije, I just don’t care that much about you one way or another,” I told her. “I prefer not to kill people if I don’t have to. I’m soft that way.” “It is a weakness,” the woman agreed. “It will not save you from the Master.” “Your Master, maybe,” I scowled. “I belong to myself now. I am free.” “Abomination,” she spat. “Maybe. But a free abomination.” I refuse to call myself Ohanna of Aarixus. Prince Aarmus may have gained legal title to me when the Hooded Hood sold me in exchange for a delay in the arrival of the dimensional dreadnaught Glory of Destruction, but Aarmus is a traitor to Caph and I would never call him master. “What is happening now?” Kriije asked feebly. She’d lost a lot of blood and I’d removed her concealed weaponry. She wasn’t a threat any more. “Why aren’t you in chains?” “Apart from my sub-atomic concealed transnuke?” I asked, referring to the bluff that had sent Aarmus scuttling to his spaceship. “I don’t know. But I can guess. I can hope.” “A balek gorn?” Kriije surmised. “You think that would bring your Kiivan to anything but bloody slaughter?” Alright, so the leman could still scare me with her words. “He will do what he must,” I answered. “I will die rather than help him be harmed.” Kriije winced. “Love?” she scorned. “Really? You poor fool.” I shuddered at her pitying gaze. I searched my feelings. Kiivan was my companion and my reason, I suppose, these last six years, the Emir that my House has always served and to whom our honour owes fealty. We have shared… so much, so many strange adventures and shared experiences. But love? Do I love him, as more than ruler of All Caph, as more than a powerful Master who might make me high amongst slaves, as something bigger and more wonderful than anything we have words for? I would die for him, of course I would. Would I live for him, for ever? Free at last, would I become his slave? “I love him,” I admitted, out loud for the first time. Those were my last words before Aarmus’ technicians managed to lock onto my bio-signature with their teleport beam and transport me out of there. Zachary Zelnitz, Hacker Nine: “I’ve shut down the primary defence computer on the Death Star,” Glitch called out as we approached the orbital defence platform. It was level 7 tech bought from Battleworld and sold on by the Slimy Slave Lovetoads to the Caphans in exchange for more of their surplus slave girls. It was enough to fend off pirates and scavengers, but it would never last against a serious assault by the Parody Master’s forces. “Can you spacewalk over there and hard-wire an input into its circuit boards?” I asked Glitch. “If you can upload the control virus into one platform I can probably remote control them all.” The green and orange autobot nodded. “It’s not like I need an atmosphere,” she noted. “Hey, Falconne, wanna come along for the ride? Your flight suit can do short-hop out-of-atmosphere runs, right? I’ll shift to my motorbike form and you can ride me.” “Sounds kind of fun,” Lindy agreed. “Why not?” That didn’t fit my plans at all. “I might need some help here,” I pointed out. “Sorry Lindy, but you’ll have to do the space-biker stuff some other time. This isn’t a game.” But it was. “Well I don’t see any problem with saving a planet and having fun,” grumbled Glitch before she disappeared into the air lock. I waited until she’d gone before turning back to Lindy. I found her staring at me. “So what’s going on?” she demanded. “Going on?” “You’re crap at deception, Zack. What are you up to?” It was confession time. “I’m leaving,” I explained. “We’re leaving. Getting out of here. Taking this ship right now and heading for the hills. It’s all going bad.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Falconne snorted. I had her armour over-ride codes ready in case she tried to stop me. “The Parody Master knows we’re here,” I explained. “The Hood has Ancient Shadara tell him. The PM’s coming for revenge. He’s coming to claim a bride.” “A bride? Who?” “The Celestian Madonna. Nobody knows exactly who that is, but he thinks it’s one of the Juniors.” “I’m not Madonna. Whitney Houston, maybe.” “The point is he’s coming here, with his armies, with his Parody Priests, maybe with his Singularity Riders and his brides in tow. The whole show, here in a few hours.” “It’ll be too late by then,” Lindy argued. “Kiivan will have regained Caph, and the whole planet gets shifted away through the Portal of Pretentiousness so the PM can’t find it.” “And who shifts it?” I challenged. “The Hooded… oh *&^%!” “Oh yes. Totally. It’s a set up. He told Kiivan: ‘At that juncture it would be possible to shift the entire planet to a suitable alternate orbit around a suitable alternate star to prevent it from falling into the hands of the Parody Master.’ That’s not the same as saying he would do.” “But that’s what everyone thought!” “So the Hooded Hood’s sneaky. Call the press.” I moved to the pilot’s station. “Look, we’ve got to get out of here. The Hood needed me to help the revolution get this far. Glitch can do the rest now I’ve hacked through the firewalls. He said I could get away.” “We need to warn the others,” Falconne cried. “He won’t let the others escape. He’s set contingencies in place, retcons to stop it. I can leave, and I can take one other person with me, provided I don’t warn the Juniors or anyone about what’s going to happen.” “And what is going to happen, Zack? What have you done?” “I don’t know what comes next, just that it’s bad. That everyone probably dies. But I can save you, Lindy. That’s the best I can do out of this whole bad job. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Lindy sat down hard. “You’re serious?” she asked. “Because if this is just some elaborate get-in-my-pants thing then I’m flattered but…” “I’m serious,” I replied. “And now, before Glitch gets back, we have to get out of here. Okay?” Lindy thought for a long time, then she shook her head. She pulled back her visor so I could see her face. “It’s not okay,” she said. “Zack, this is so out of my league. I can’t deal.” “Me neither, Lind, but…” “But you have to deal, Zack. You totally have to. When I’m stuck you’re the guy who helps me out. You saved me from Young Heckfire, maybe saved me from myself. You don’t let your friends down, Zack. That’s me. I’m like that. You’re not that guy.” She might as well have spiked my heart right then and there. “You don’t know what sort of man I’ve become,” I said. “And now it’s too late.” I hate it when Lindy cries. I’m not over her. I hate it. “Please Zack, don’t leave them. You’re smart. So much smarter than me. Smarter maybe than the Hooded Hood. Don’t give in and leave everyone to die.” “I’m done here,” Glitch called over the comm. “I’m heading back. Send out for pizza.” I’d made my choice. All my choices. Bad ones, but they’d brought me here. Lindy was crying. My friends were going to die. I could live. If that’s what you’d call it. I reached for the console. “Danny,” I called out, my voice trembling. “It’s Zack. Listen, there’s stuff you need to know…” I was going to die with the Juniors. The Parody Master, Conqueror of the Parodyverse: The moment was ripe, the opportunity too good to miss. I could taste the vengeance in my mouth, like a fine sweet wine. I teleported myself across the Parodyverse to the bridge of the Glory of Destruction. “What are you waiting for?” I shouted at the shocked and stricken captain. “Cease your trembling and set course of Caph. Maximum speed!” Coming Next: Aarmus vs Kiivan, Vaahir’s war, Pel vs Ancient Shadara, Ultimate Kerry, mystery guest villains and stars, all the stuff you were promised again this time round that got bumped for space reasons, and the Junior Lair Legion face to face with the Parody Master, in Untold Tales #309: The King’s Slave, or The End of the World. The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom Who's Who in the Parodyverse Where's Where in the Parodyverse Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2007 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2007 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
| Follow-Ups: |
|
| Echo™ v3.0 beta © 2003-2006 Powermad Software |
|
|