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Hi...I just finished "The Ebon Peril", a lost Jungle Girl tale from the Golden Age of Comics that also introduces a long-lost Golden Age Supervillain...Xhango! To enjoy this wonderful story, you only have to pay 99 cents: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/547312
But don't worry, Spaceketeers! You get a FREE STORY to enjoy with "The Ebon Peril", and it does not cost you a penny! Enjoy "The Emperor In The Mountain"...featuring PLANET COMICS' favorite space beauties GALE ALLEN, MYSTA OF THE MOON, AND AMAZONA...along with the rest of the SENTINELS OF THE UNIVERSE!
Admittedly, I'm putting all of my cards on the table, showcasing future plans for the monstrous Xhango. Originally, "The Emperor In The Mountain" was supposed to be a more elaborate story that "The Ebon Peril" was to be the prelude to. However, plans change...not to mention that I promised readers that I would give you this to read. This is now a prototype story. Please enjoy.
The Emperor In The Mountain:
Terror In Orbit!
By M. Hadley
As the beautiful crescendo of Rimsky-Korsakov’s "Flight of the Bumblebee" swelled on invisible surround-sound loudspeakers, the raven-haired Amazona haphazardly fell to her knees and vomited upon the silvery artemisium floor. Her well-earned sobriquet of “the Mighty Woman” was rendered falsehood in space. Even though she had crisscrossed the solar system for weeks now as a newly minted Sentinel of the Universe, she could not control the sickness that would seize her whenever she left Earth’s atmosphere. Her fists balled in frustration as she scrunched her eyes closed, shutting off the otherwise spectacular view of the shimmering Mare Tranquilitatis. Her condition was psychosomatic in nature; it was up to her to rein it in.
“Though you’d grown used to the Void by now…” a female voice whispered inches before her face, accompanying a consoling hand on her back. Amazona’s copper eyes snapped open to meet steely catlike blue ones, the color of reflection nebulae. Their Venusian owner grinned clumsily, her striking beauty secured by a voluptuous mane of shimmering blond locks with peek-a-boo bangs shrouding one eye. A blue short sleeved halter top endeavored to contain her well-formed bust while highlighting a slender waist and taut midriff. A matching miniskirt flared around sculpted upper thighs, revealing the objects of her pride and joy in the process: a pair of gleaming gold Custom Corman Disintegrator Ray-Guns resting in twin red thigh holsters. The most important factors of her ensemble, however, were twofold and dealt specifically with the planet of her birth: the first was the military insignia of Captain on her shoulders, a proud holdover from her past as leader of its 40th Women’s Space Battalion. The other was glowing golden earrings designed in the astronomical symbol of the “Morning Star”.
“I think I’ve determined what’s making me sick…” Amazona coughed weakly, clutching her stomach with an exaggerated grimace. She was no slouch when it came to loveliness. Possessing flowing feathered tresses of midnight, the statuesque nymph showcased her athletic physique and intricate shimmering red tribal tattoos in a skimpy two-piece red and white trimmed swimsuit-styled uniform. The outfit was coordinated with gold-the bracelets on her wrists, the heart-shaped knuckledusters on her hands, the platform gladiator sandals on her feet, the spiked belt around her waist, and the tiara on her forehead were of the same glistening color-all based on her Elders’ ideas of ‘diplomacy’. The only article of clothing that was of her own choosing was a black choker around her neck- a gift from a childhood friend – with the Latin inscription of “Fiat Lux” embroidered in silver, which meant “Let light be made”.
“What?” the golden blonde stood up on lean, shapely legs and blue stiletto heels, holding out her right hand to assist the Mighty Woman up. With the other, she nursed a green sour lollipop.
“Void…or at least your blasé way of saying it.” The brunette seized her hand and with a hearty grunt, was pulled to her feet.
“What do you mean?” the blonde cocked her head, visually puzzled, the lollipop dangling perilously from her lips.
“Where…where I come from…” Amazona unconsciously wiped her soiled lips on her forearm, causing her friend to cringe. “These…where we are, the moon…the stars…they are…were… the stars, the roof of my world. Not the Void, not even space. Just…stars-”
“Here.” The blonde handed her a napkin.
“Thanks.” Amazona wiped her lips and then her forearm with it. “Look…it’s sort of hard for me to explain…I’m just not like you, Gale. You’re used to zipping from Mercury to Uranus in a heartbeat and hyper-rocket drives and floating cities. I’m just a simple girl from a lost Arctic super race…”
“You’re still working on popping your Void Cherry.” Gale Allen placed a comforting hand on the taller woman’s shoulder. “Although the way you describe it, it’s like all the romanticism’s been stripped away. I would be lying if I said I could relate…”
Amazona chuckled. “Now you’re starting to sound like her.”
“Like who?” Gale raised an eyebrow.
Amazona grinned widely as she stretched out her arms, gesturing around them. They stood in the seemingly fathomless foyer of the crystalline lunar Citadel of Science, the sealed entrance just mere yards away from space pioneer Neil Armstrong’s immortalized footprints. Looming over the pair, in the center of the foyer, was a gargantuan statue of the silver-bearded Dr. Kort, the scientist credited with preserving all universal knowledge by raising Mysta of the Moon as its guardian. Carved out of pure asteriodium, the exquisite figure was posed in deep contemplation, rubbing his beard with his left hand while holding a sparkling test tube in his right.
“Do the words ‘Sentinel Alert’ mean anything to you two?” a woman’s voice, with perfect diction, interrupted with such suddenness that Amazona nearly toppled into her mess. The two turned to find a shimmering ethereal form of a beautiful woman before them, clad in a sparkling blue bikini top and flowing loincloth of glistening sapphires with matching thigh-high platform sandals. An elegant pompadour of gleaming silver, the color of a full moon, cascaded over her slender shoulders. Her ubiquitous golden tiara, designed like a crescent moon, glowed on her forehead. Her lean arms were crossed, her serene face contrasting sharply with her annoyed tone.
“B-B-Boss!” Gale stuttered, rubbing the back of her neck nervously and nearly dropping her lollipop. “You didn’t have to whip out the Spirit Image! We were on the way-”
“My apologies, Mysta Supreme.” Amazona bowed deeply. “It was my fault…my body…my mind…is still growing use to the idea of sailing the actual stars…”
The face of the erudite woman known as Mysta softened empathetically. “No, my friends…it is I that should present an apology. How inconsiderate of me. I am…just please hurry to the Challenger Chamber-”
“But the mess-” Gale protested.
“Will be handled by Robot.” Mysta waved her off before vanishing as abruptly as she appeared, leaving Gale and Amazona to stare at each other in bewilderment.
Suddenly, the Venusian felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention, unifying with the chill racing up her spine. The Mighty Woman’s lips trembled, her fists balling instinctively as she tried to control the impulse to attack. Their eyes meeting, the duo slowly exchanged curt nods of solidarity before whirling around to confront the newfound presence behind them.
It was a behemoth of a metal man, with haunting red orbs for eyes that pierced one’s very soul. Silver in hue and slightly transparent, it was an Adonis in design, handsome, sleek and muscular in artificial physique, outwardly showcasing its great strength and nigh-invulnerability. It was Mysta’s protector and closest confident, although its lack of a true name suggested otherwise. As it casted a giant shadow over the two space warriors, it raised its arms threateningly, its red eyes lancing from one apprehensive face to the other.
Then, it produced a mop and a pail and promptly set to work cleaning the floor.
“Sizzling Starbursts!” Gale exclaimed, her hands dropping from her rayguns’ holsters. “Somebody needs to get that thing a bell!”
“Aw, don’t listen to her…” Amazona cooed sweetly, making pinching motions to Robot’s metal cheeks.
“You were scared too!” Gale playfully accused.
“I am the Mighty Woman…descendent of an ancient race of arctic men!” Amazona boasted jokily. “We have sentient robot playfellows as children. In fact, my grandfather built me one when I was three.”
“Well don’t get too excited…” Gale turned to walk down one of the great corridors of the citadel. “It only activates via Mysta’s mental commands. Other than that, it’s just a hollow thing of metal.”
“Gale! Wait!” Amazona called after her, giving Robot a lingering glance before jogging after her friend. The music on the loudspeakers was now Symphony No.2 by Wolfgang Mozart, and the Arctic woman could swear that the metal man performed its duty in time with the notes.
“What do you think has Mysta so upset?” the brunette asked when she caught up with her friend.
“Besides your breakfast on the floor?” Gale shrugged, nibbling at her lollipop. “Maybe her memory disc collection’s out of whack.”
“I hope your cynicism’s not infectious.” Amazona chuckled, playfully punching the shorter woman in the shoulder.
“That’s what you get for asking a rhetorical question.” Gale smiled as the duo stopped before a huge archway, decorated with ancient Sumerian cuneiform symbols. Beyond the threshold was the Challenger Chamber, a treasure trove of Twenty-Second Century observation technology. It was named after the inspiration of the Sentinels, the Challengers of Villainy – a prominently female team of adventurers that defended Earth in the Twentieth Century. Circular in design, the walls of the gigantic room were covered with multicolored computer consoles and telescreens displaying images from as far away as the Capella Star System. In the center of the room was a large circular table of diamond with eight ornate chairs, each for a Sentinel of the Universe (although they all had yet to be filled). But only the sylphlike Mysta set in her chair, drumming fingers anxiously.
Before the duo could properly set foot in the room, Amazona was gently ambushed from behind by two lean arms slithering around her neck in an embrace. She grimaced instinctively, having developed an acute aversion to the romantic attention of their owner, the legendary Moon Girl. The Princess of the Earth kingdom of Samarkand, Moon Girl was of a lineage of warrior women that were invincible (more figuratively than literally) in battle. While the added stipulation of seeking only a stronger suitor was unique to her ancestor Clare Lune, the current princess decided to resurrect it, partly to spite her mother…and mostly because she preferred women over men.
Amazona becoming the Lunar Lady’s paramour was really a stratagem of Mysta’s, who initially failed to interest the princess in the universe outside of Samarkand’s borders. Thus, the genius dispatched Amazona to the kingdom in the guise of a suitor, who, with massive effort (on the part of Mysta secretly rigging the competition), defeated the “Princess of the Moon” in battle. Like a lovestruck puppy, the Princess followed her suitor into the ranks of the galaxy’s mightiest defenders. Yet this produced a double-edged sword: in order to keep Moon Girl as a Sentinel, Amazona had to maintain the thick veneer of her passionate lover.
Resigning to her fate, the lissome brunette exhaled deeply though subtly, replacing the grimace with a lover’s mixture of amusement and elation. She turned to face Moon Girl, expecting to meet an angelic face, with bright emerald eyes sparkling with ingenuousness. What she found instead were eyes trembling in overwhelming terror. Moon Girl, who had taken her arms from around Amazona’s neck, was gaping at the ever-present white jewel that dangled from her necklace, cupping it delicately in her palms. It was her Moonstone, her family heirloom and the source of her invincibility. It was also an early warning system, glowing red whenever trouble arose.
Presently, the precious stone glowed so brightly that it threatened to blind its spectators.
“I…I’ve never seen it like this…” Moon Girl trailed off, her ruby lips muttering silent words of bafflement. Her shapely body was exhibited in a form-fitting yellow-gold V-neck blouse/red corset combination and light blue scanty short shorts with a large golden crescent moon symbol on the buttocks area. Golden stiletto pumps with curved toes and calf-length ballet slipper straps completed the heroic costume. Her jet black hair was weaved into an elaborate mermaid fishtail French braid, with another braid, decorated with diamonds, styled across her forehead like a headband.
“What does it mean, Princess?” Amazona asked apprehensively, not knowing what to expect.
“Someone needs my help…I mean, our help…”Moon Girl whispered. “But that is not what frightens me. I have…been slipping in and out of consciousness…fainting…and falling into a world of nightmare. Something is chasing me, someone…every single time…a specter that can defeat me…”
Her green eyes suddenly rolled to the back of her head, causing her to teeter backward. Luckily, Amazona was able to grasp her around the waist before she fell. She was a limp ragdoll in the larger woman’s arms, her sudden slumber deep but unsteady.
“We have to get her to the infirmary!” Amazona glanced helplessly from Mysta to Gale standing beside her. The blonde spacefighter quickly popped her lollipop into her mouth, crunched it, spat out the stick, and knelt down, sliding one of Moon Girl’s arms around her shoulders to help prop her up. Mysta remained motionless, her expression the epitome of calm.
“Just sit her in one of the chairs.” She said at last impatiently. “When she awakens, all will be explained-”
“Are you kidding?!” Gale gawked. “She’s practically a drooling vegetable, and you want to play Weekend at Bernie’s with her?”
“I do not know the reference, but I have to agree, Mysta Supreme.” Amazona interjected. “There must be something terribly wrong with her-”
“I thought you Sentinels were made of sterner stuff…” a new female voice entered the fray. Two pairs of shocked eyes fell upon another occupant of the round table, admittedly unnoticed until that very moment. She sat opposite of Mysta, reclining in her seat, her buccaneer boots crossed on the table. Shoulder-length platinum blonde locks framed a rather stunning face, accented by large golden hoop earrings and a blood red scarf-like headband. However, her attractiveness was challenged by the harsh glare radiating from doe-like blue eyes, now suddenly those of a lioness.
If looks could kill, the one the newcomer leveled at Gale Allen was lethal enough to annihilate an army.
The Venusian woman had moved faster than either Amazona or Mysta realized, leaping on the table and crossing the distance between her and the stranger in seconds. In that tiny span of time, her right hand had drawn a raygun, and she knelt before the newcomer, coolly pressing the golden barrel against her forehead. But, without rising from her seat, and with the same astonishing speed, the stranger’s right hand reached at her side, producing a silver rapier swept hilt. As she swung it upward to meet her enemy, a bizarre humming sound, similar to a bee’s drone was produced as a thin blade of sizzling silver energy materialized from the hilt. The tip hovered a mere centimeter from Gale’s defenseless neck.
“Pirate scum!” Gale snarled through clenched teeth. “How the hell did you get in here?! What are you trying to steal from Mysta?!”
“Always the bureaucratic bloodhound, Princess.” The stranger spat back. “Always believing what your masters tell you. Just because a few of the galaxy’s citizens want pure freedom-”
“Larceny isn’t about freedom, dirtbag!” the golden blonde growled. “I don’t care what the citizens think of you. I think you’re a snake in the grass, lulling them with false dreams of this Robin Hood nonsense!”
“Aw…you jealous?” the stranger’s arrogant guffaw was unexpected. “Oh, I get it…only the rich and royal decide how the wealth of the universe is distributed. Even in these future times, the poor gets poorer while the rich step on their backs to prop themselves up-”
Gale’s manicured finger tensed on the raygun’s trigger, while the stranger’s wrist constricted ever so slightly, threatening to thrust the light rapier into the Venusian’s neck. Thankfully, they were both stopped by a cold metal hand clamping onto each woman’s wrist, shoving them away from their deadly intentions.
Mysta’s large Robot stood between them, physically separating the two adversaries. With the exception of Mysta and the slumbering Moon Girl, all gasped in shock; no one had even seen the artificial man enter the chamber!
“Vanam.” Mysta fixed both combatants with a chiding glare. “Vanam, Gale. Don’t you see? Your capital burns while you renew your petty rivalry!”
“Vanam?!” Gale, still crouched on the tabletop, anxiously turned to the silver-haired woman. “By my ancestors…what has happened?”
“Mysta Supreme, I am so terribly sorry.” The stranger rose to her feet, returning her rapier of light to her scabbard and bowing slightly. “You invited me to join your team and I only incited conflict-”
“This can’t be possible…” Gale’s mouth dropped in shock as she gave her greatest foe a disbelieving look. “Tara, Queen of the Space Pirates, most wanted galactic criminal…a Sentinel? By the way…where are your ‘loyal subjects’, ‘Queen’…those brutes, Malo and Robin?”
“This isn’t a Battalion Interrogation Chamber!” Tara laughed haughtily as she sat elegantly in her chair, crossing her legs. “Unless Mysta says otherwise, I owe you no explanation…although we can both agree that the one place they seem to occupy is your thoughts. More than I care to know, Princess…”
“Stop it, you two!” Amazona exploded, creating silence in an instant. While the commotion was in full swing, she had gently carried the sleeping Moon Girl over to a chair and propped her in the seating position, head resting on her forearms, Moonstone still flashing like a red-hot ember. She now leaned against her own chair next to Moon Girl’s, hand on hip, glaring exasperatingly at her other compatriots.
“Get off the table, Gale!” she growled, reprimanding like a mother to a child. “You are a princess, act with class. And you…Miss Tara. We both maybe newcomers to this organization, but I outrank you by five weeks, six days, ten hours, thirty minutes, and two seconds. Thus, I am your superior; you must act as I act…and I act as an agent of justice, an instrument against all evil in the universe. Pettiness and selfishness have no place here.”
For a moment, all that was heard were Moon Girl’s delicate snores. Gale quickly slid off of the table, but did not take her seat as she watched Mysta anxiously. The silver-haired maiden glanced into the eyes of all present, a ripple of worry distorting her icy exterior. Robot towered at her side, his movement so swift and subtle that it had gone undetected by all once again. Tara gave Amazona a look of wounded pride, guiltily teasing the thigh-high hem of her strapless purple halter dress for a few seconds.
Then, she suddenly laughed. “Where did you get this woman, Allen? From a backup in Planet Comics?”
Gale’s attention was on Mysta. “You said Vanam. What happened?!”
Mysta sat and began to press the very air before her, her frosted fingertips connecting with invisible buttons that flashed multiple colors upon contact. Suddenly, in the center of the table, a shimmering three-dimensional hologram of the golden canalled Venusian capital arose, literally built from the ground up. Then, after a few seconds, a series of terrific explosions sent a few of the ornate spires crashing to the ground.
“Great Galaxies…” Gale whispered breathlessly, her heart in her throat. “The King Rogert Memorial…”
“Who would do such a horrid thing?!” Amazona snarled, her whole body trembling in anger.
“Pax Xhangona…that’s who…” Tara said quietly, biting her lower lip to curtail her own rage.
“Pax Who?” Amazona gave her a blank look.
Gale glanced over to Mysta, expecting her to interject with a timely dissertation on their exposed enemy. However, the maven of all things universe was intensely studying the horrible explosions, having magnified the hologram several thousand times by flexing her thumb and two fingers. At the level of the golden streets, amongst the millions of terrified bystanders frozen in awkward positions of flight, stood a solitary silvery thing, the revealed epicenter of the chaos. It resembled a woman- an exquisite beauty crafted by an unearthly Pygmalion- with skin of reflective silver and a short curly hairstyle consisting of blue fiber optic cable. Vacant blue eyes, curvoscope lens, projected twin beams of spotlight while iron manacles and shackles glinted on slender wrists and ankles. It wore an ivory cocktail dress, mid-Twentieth Century in design, and had feet that resembled high heels- four skeletal toes and a long deadly stiletto projecting from the heel.
Mysta was suddenly stunned by the image’s familiarity.
She had seen the look of the creature before from Twentieth Century iconography.
She pinched the air, bestowing motion to the holographic image. A gust of air billowed from beneath the silver woman’s dress, causing it to blow up and her to smooth it down with an endearing grin of modesty. However, from underneath the skirt, a volley of missiles erupted, initiating a chain of giant explosions around the immediate area. Mysta halted the motion before any foregone conclusion was witnessed.
Marilyn Monroe. She resembled a silvery Marilyn Monroe, clad in the white dress from the film The Seven Year Itch.
“What the hell is that, Boss?” Gale fought to keep her emotions in check. “Is that from…Pax Xhangona?”
“Again with the Pax Xena!” Amazona glanced helplessly from one face to the other. “What is it?”
“Did you just step out of a black hole?” Tara stared at the raven-haired woman incredulously. “You really don’t know who these guys are?!”
“’These guys’?” The Mighty Woman shrugged. “I can’t say that I’ve heard of the-”
“Five weeks as a Sentinel, Israel Hands… remember?” Gale glared at Tara before sitting and interlacing her fingers on the table.
“You’d think that would be something even your Royal Highness wouldn’t forget to teach her about.” The Pirate Queen sniffed, crossing her arms over her bosom.
“No…please…leave me alone…” Moon Girl murmured in her sleep, startling everyone.
“To answer your inquiry, Amazona…” Mysta stood up and began to slowly pace around the table. “Pax Xhangona are among the worst criminals in the cosmos…contrary, of course, to what our friend Gale believes. They are a cult, centuries old, that worships a Terran supercriminal named Xhango, seen by them as a god. Most, if not all of the members are descendents of then unknown Caucasian African tribes that Xhango kidnapped and brainwashed into an army for his initial campaign against the ‘White Goddess Pantheon’…his exact words. From what little information Dr. Kort could gather on them, the basis of Pax Xhangona’s ‘teachings’…if you can call them teachings…are perverted expansions on Pan-Africanism and ‘black supremacy’…essentially, the Earthly ‘African’ race…those of a darker skin pigmentation than you and I and originating from the continent of Africa… are considered superior over all other humans.”
“A hag named Nagana leads the cult.” Gale interjected. “She’s the High Priestess, and the real monster…the true Queen of Galactic Evil. They follow her orders to the letter. If she tells them to blow themselves up while taking out a planet, they would. From what I’ve heard, she’s immortal and knows black magic…”
“It’s not mere conjecture.” Tara said sadly, hugging herself fearfully. “She wields black magic. The spells she can cast…they are…”
“What, you tried to steal from her too?” Gale sneered, visually exasperated. She was surprised by the melancholy look that suddenly shrouded Tara’s face. Mysta stopped pacing behind the space pirate’s chair, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“You asked about Tara’s friends earlier, didn’t you?” the silver-haired woman gave the Venusian a disapproving glare. “You are looking at the only survivor of a Pax Xhangona assault.”
Not wanting to give any sympathy to her devil, Gale looked away, acting as if nothing had been said. Mysta, shaking her head shamefully, continued her revolution around the table. However, she suddenly halted in midstep, caught off guard by her Arctic recruit’s reaction. Amazona’s whole body shivered like a leaf in barely contained rage. As her lips parted, her voice trembled in vehement.
“I know of Xhango…from bedside nightmare to historical anecdote.” She said. “He nearly wiped my people out centuries ago…attacked our arctic stronghold, kidnapping a great number of us, including my…my great-great-grandmother. He experimented on us…wanted the secret of our abilities… stole our technology and used us as slaves. Ironically, it was through him that we learned that we were considered ‘white men’ to the outside world in the first place…”
Gale shook her head furiously, as if clearing mental cobwebs. “Maybe because I’m from another planet…I don’t get the guy’s obsession with skin color.”
Mysta returned to her seat. “You are not alone in that assessment, Princess.”
“It’s all coming back to me.” Amazona continued, nodding at the frozen hologram. “That thing…the robot woman …it’s one of them, isn’t it? The Viragon…
Mysta nodded, smiling approvingly. “Yes. They are-”
“Leave me alone!” Moon Girl suddenly leaped up from the table, glancing about wildly in terror. After a few minutes, she slowly regained her bearings and settled back in her seat, blushing furiously.
“Ah…so what have we learned?” Mysta, unperturbed, asked the Lunar Lady.
It took another few minutes before the Samarkand royal could speak. She stared at her glowing red Moonstone blankly, as if it was a newfound discovery.
“My ancestor, Clare Lune…she and the Prince…tried to escape…and destroy that infernal machine.” Her eyes never left the jewel. “But Xhango…his silver amazons…was able to defeat them. And what he…did to her…by Jupiter’s Moons, that was not in our family historical tomes!”
“What are you babbling about?” Tara asked impatiently.
“I…I don’t know!” Moon Girl exclaimed, tears of frustration pooling in her eyes. “This is just crazy! I don’t know what’s going on with me-”
“You leave her alone.” Amazona narrowed her eyes at the space pirate.
“Moon Girl…are you familiar with the term ‘Akashic records’?” Mysta asked. When the young heroine shook her head, the erudite beauty continued. “The name is Sanskrit in origin, meaning ‘sky’ or ‘space’ …essentially, the sum total of all knowledge and experience of humankind, including historical and mystical secrets, are recorded on the very ‘fabric of existence’…and can only be accessed through meditation, deep hypnosis, or astral projection. Your Moonstone works in a similar way. It contains all the knowledge and experiences of your predecessors. There are two factors that are contributing to your debilitating condition: your relative inexperience with the jewel and the dire peril you…or should I say we… are about to partake in. The Moonstone seems to demonstrate some precognitive abilities as well as limited sentience. In laymen’s terms…it is frightened and is in such a hurry to show you everything before the impending crisis that it is overwhelming you without realizing it.”
“By Mars…” Moon Girl exclaimed breathlessly. “Grandmother warned me that I had taken the Moonstone much too early…”
“What did you see through your ancestor’s eyes?” Mysta coaxed. “Where was this machine located?”
“In a mountain…somewhere on the Dark Continent.” Moon Girl answered, visually puzzled by her own words.
Mysta’s frosted fingertips pressed invisible buttons in the air before her once again, causing the frozen holographic picture of the silver woman to vanish into ether. In its place was a mammoth ice crowned mountain, surrounded by streaks of puffy ivory clouds.
“Mount Kilimanjaro.” Mysta told the others. “Once the highest mountain in Africa…and Xhango’s former base of operations. After the silvery creature’s rampage in Vanam, it somehow possessed the ability of interstellar travel. With the help of the Planiscope (Planetary Telescope), I was able to trace its flight path to this mountain-”
“I’m sorry, but did you just say ‘once’?” Tara asked, raising an eyebrow. “I know I’ve been outlawed from Earth for quite a while now, but I thought…no, I know that terraforming there is quite illegal.”
The silver-haired bastion of knowledge flexed her thumb and two fingers, causing the holographic mountain to shrink in stature. A collective gasp escaped the assembled Sentinels’ lips as a bigger picture came into focus. As the mountain reduced in size, the Earth grew inversely, until the giant natural structure was no more than a tiny shadow against a huge sapphire sphere. Yet the tiny shadow circled the planetary body, revealing a stationary orbit.
Mount Kilimanjaro was in space.
The Challenger Chamber erupted in a maelstrom of voices, as all, save Mysta, rattled off their fears, swore oaths of vengeance, or quickly hurled out half-thought out battle plans. A silencing hand from Mysta returned the team’s focus to her.
“I tried to approach the mountain with my Spirit Image, but I was soundly repelled by some unknown force.” She reported. “I guess I should not be surprised. Among his other infamous accomplishments, Xhango was quite the superscientist. Much of the technology he stole, such as from Amazona’s people, was vastly improved upon by him. My deduction is that along with my Image, interstellar communications will be null as well. That is why, and it is much to my chagrin, that we-and only we- must try for the direct approach. The Safety Council has been alerted to my latest findings, so any assaults by the Earth Government should be suspended, at least for now. I will stay here and monitor the situation from afar with the Planiscope, analyzing every single bit of information -”
“While we do our intergalactic door-to-door salesman thing.” Gale interjected, before glaring at Tara. “By the way, pirate…this isn’t one of your Brotherhood raids. We actually fight against crime, not commit it.”
“I’ll be sure not to step on your cape, sheriff.” Tara rolled her eyes and stared at her golden fingerless gloves coolly. “Just keep out of my way.”
Amazona sighed impatiently as she leaned over to drape a consoling arm across Moon Girl’s shoulders. The Girl of Moonlight was uncharacteristically silent, her emerald eyes locked on her glowing Moonstone as she trembled violently.
Mysta stood up from her seat and nodded approvingly at her assembled Sentinels. “Godspeed, my guardians. Tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito…’yield not to misfortunes, but advance all the more boldly against them’.”
*****************************************************
Nothing cemented Mysta’s polymathic status more than the amazing rocketship of her own design, Atoma. A tangible collision of whimsical artistry and skilled engineering, the sleek glasslike bullet had a nose sharp enough to cleave the very void in two. Without a doubt, it was the fastest vessel in the known star systems (and yes, Mysta would know this), able to fly from Earth’s moon to Jupiter in a twinkling without engaging hyperspace engines. Of course, for the nature of the Sentinels’ duties, such a space vehicle was needed; for a second’s delay was the difference between life and death when engaging intergalactic threats.
Ironically, unlike her lifelong partner Robot, Mysta had bestowed her creation with an actual name, although in truth, it was for the artificial intelligence that navigated it. Wearing a skintight catsuit of glowing white equations with what resembled red and white batwings and an equally outlandish horned helmet with goggles, the holographic maiden hinted to something much more than a computer visual. In the few weeks since the Sentinels’ investiture, the artificial being subtly alluded to a past of flesh and blood… in the year 2446.
Naturally, Atoma’s mysterious history was the very last thing concerning the Sentinels at that moment.
They walked up the ramp of the elite rocketship a disharmonious unit – first Tara, hand on rapier hilt, extremely cautious of Gale, then Gale, hand on a raygun, wary of the Pirate Queen before her. Moon Girl blankly followed, her eyes never leaving her now ruby Moonstone. Amazona brought up the rear, shimmying forward on legs of jelly, with one hand on her stomach and the other clamped over her mouth. Even the mere thought of entering the bridge sent her belly into vigorous gymnastics.
As the first three crossed between twin Grecian caryatids that framed the doorway of the rocketship, Atoma materialized in a cloud of neon pink binary numbers, grinning and waving energetically. She quickly grew concerned about the status of the Mighty Woman, who leaned against one of the sculpted female columns, breathing raggedly.
“Moon Girl!” she fussed in an electronically modulated voice. “You can’t leave Amazona like that-!”
As if awakening from a daze, the Lovely Daughter of Luna quickly turned and rushed to the side of her lover, offering a shoulder for her to lean on. Her beautiful face green with nausea, the woman from the Arctic could do nothing but weakly accept her friend’s assistance.
“You realize 99 percent of a Sentinel’s duty involves space travel, right?” the Princess of Samarkand tittered heartily at her own little jest.
“Shut up before I add new colors to your blouse…” Amazona managed to huff before hastily covering her lips with a hand once again, stymieing a violent tummy protest.
The duo crossed between the two stone maidens into an exquisite interior inspired by classical Greek architecture, complete with mirror-quality marble floors, walls, and golden sculptured friezes that spanned the entire length of the ship’s corridors. Closer scrutiny of the eye-level decorations revealed scenes not of antiquity, but of the superhuman female champions of centuries past, moving in silent battle against various foes. The gilded marble bridge was the pinnacle of the impressive aesthetic; it boasted seven golden throne-like chairs in a semi-circle, with an eight chair, the captain’s chair, as the central focus. Behind the captain’s chair shimmered a beautiful fountain that sprayed upward in a conical shape, contained and manipulated by an invisible force field.
As Moon Girl and Amazona entered the bridge through double sliding doors, the latter found her queasiness subsiding somewhat upon viewing the fountain. The reason behind this was just as mysterious as the sickness itself.
“Thanks.” She smiled sheepishly at the Lunar Lady, standing strongly on two feet.
“Of course.” Moon Girl nodded with a huge grin.
Their attention was drawn towards the captain’s chair, where Tara and Gale faced off, arms folded, wrathful eyes narrowed at each other. Atoma stood between them, directly in front of the chair, failing to maintain a calming influence.
“This is foolish and immature!” the holographic woman cried at last, stomping an intangible foot in frustration.
“Admit it, Princess!” Tara hurled the last word with potent venom. “I’ve engaged the Pax Xhangona cult a lot more than you have. I know their strengths, weaknesses…strategies. I should be the one leading this mission!”
“See, there are concepts called rules.” Gale rolled her eyes in irritation. “In the Brotherhood universe- that’s your universe- they are only good for breaking. In the civilized universe-my universe- we follow them. Like the rule where Sentinel team leader is elected democratically and she is the default person in charge no matter the mission-”
“Oh God!” Tara hissed in frustration. “You act like you and your family has never done any dirt, like there aren’t any skeletons in the Allen family closet. Wasn’t one of your ancestors a criminal? What was her name…Miss Masque?”
“She was a crimefighter, you hussy!” Gale snapped, her face trembling in fury.
“She was a masked vigilante!” Tara retorted. “The police back then didn’t like someone doing their job, and breaking the law to serve their own ends-”
“She was a hero!” Gale stepped closer to the Pirate Queen, their noses almost touching. “It didn’t matter what the police thought! She was fighting the good fight, protecting the innocent, seeking justice, just like-”
She halted in mid-sentence, her speech overridden by the epiphany. Although she did not verbalize it, her rival could tell from the guilty expression. Taking this as a small victory, the platinum blonde smiled self-righteously as she silently turned and walked away, leaving her nemesis to gawk blankly after her.
The Venusian woman did not realize how stunned she was until after Atoma had called her name for the twentieth time.
“Gale!” the holographic woman waved a hand frantically before the golden blonde’s face. “Everyone’s waiting on you!”
“Heavens!” Gale exclaimed, brushing a hand through her golden locks embarrassingly as she glanced around. Sure enough, all three compatriots had taken their seats and stared at her impatiently. Regaining her authoritative poise, Gale Allen settled down in the captain’s chair and crossed her legs sophisticatedly.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she leaned back in the chair, hands gripping the armrests. “Let’s get to that mountain!”
“ALL ABOARD, hahahahaha!” Atoma suddenly bellowed in a reverberating masculine voice. As she stretched out both arms and leaned her head back as far as she could, she began to vanish, little by little, in bursts of neon pink binary numbers. Simultaneously, unseen loud speakers began to radiate the beginning guitar riffs of a legendary rock song. While Moon Girl and Tara glanced around, baffled, Amazona leaned forward and bobbed her head furiously in tempo with the music while strumming an air guitar in her lap. Breaking solemn character, Gale joined her in singing the lyrics.
“Crazy! But that how it gooooessss!” they sang, although not in harmony or on-key. “Millions of people, living as foooesssss!”
“By Jupiter’s Moons, what the hell is this?!” Moon Girl’s voice could barely be heard over the vocals. She had plugged both ears with her index fingers.
“Only the greatest musician of all time!” Amazona yelled. “He was a god of music back in the old days…The Prince of Darkness! They called him Ozzy!”
“Ozzy?” Tara giggled. “I dated a Martian named Ozzy once…”
“I assure you…this guy is no Red Planet man.” Gale grinned widely at Tara, then realizing what she was doing, looked away, embarrassed. No. No matter what had happened between them in the last few minutes, the Pirate Queen was her eternal adversary. There was no way that Gale could welcome her as a true companion.
She shifted her attention to the marble wall before them, which moved about like the surface of a smooth liquid. A vertical line suddenly formed on the wall and expanded horizontally, forming a gargantuan telescreen, initially black. A few seconds later, it displayed the ivory interior of the rocketship launch tube, with twin rows of red lights stretching into the distance. As the Mighty Woman’s eyes began to wander towards the telescreen, Gale regained her attention by singing loudly once again.
“I’m going off the rails on a crazy train!!” she screeched in unison with Amazona, while simultaneously trying to encourage Moon Girl to join in by raising her eyebrows and nodding subtly. Catching the hints, but having no knowledge of the words, the Lovely Daughter of Luna simply hummed along loudly to the tune. Tara reclined in her chair, shaking her head in disbelief.
The general idea was to keep the Arctic heroine distracted enough that she would not realize that they were being launched into space.
By the start of the second verse, Atoma had left the gray surface of Earth’s moon behind in a subtle demonstration of fantastic speed, grand comfort, and pinpoint efficiency. Like a diamond shot, the exquisite vessel sliced through the silent vacuum, towards its bizarre destination. As the legendary African mountain loomed on the telescreen, Atoma silenced Crazy Train and materialized beside Gale’s chair.
“I’m detecting a small craft approaching Kilimanjaro.” She reported. “The lifesigns are very faint…not as if near death, but resembling a deep coma…”
“Give me a close-up.” Gale ordered.
Atoma obeyed. The telescreen zeroed in on a tiny speck ascending the giant craggy slopes, easily undetectable to the human eye. However, what was revealed upon closer inspection caused the viewers to collectively gawk, Atoma included. It was a glass coffin, with wings, a tailfin, and a rocket engine. Inside, a naked white-haired beauty lay serenely with her hands clasped together over her bosom.
“Atoma…who is that woman?” Amazona inquired, literally at the edge of her seat.
“Identity unknow-” the holographic woman started to drone before Moon Girl leaped up, cradling her Moonstone once again.
“By Mars…” she whispered excitedly. “Fantomah. That’s her! That’s the jungle goddess…”
“Who?” Both Gale and Amazona gave her puzzled looks.
“She was a literal jungle goddess in the early Twentieth Century.” Atoma chimed in. “Based in Africa, she was the protector of all jungle life…until her disappearance. Well, it seems that she has been finally found…”
“But to what end?” Gale cocked her head and unconsciously clicked her tongue. “Why here and why now?”
“Because she’s a vital part of the ceremony.” Tara leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, smiling smugly as all eyes fell on her. “What? I told you I knew more than you.”
“What’s going on, Tara?” Moon Girl walked over and stood before the space buccaneer, her face pale with fear. “The Moonstone isn’t telling me everything.”
“Look, I’m not going to pretend like I read the Book of Xhangona or anything.” The Pirate Queen grew solemn. “Even in…in the many, many skirmishes between my crew and those nutcases, they kept things close to the chest. What I have are snatches of a secret here, a secret there…just enough to fill in some of the blanks that even the smartest woman in the universe failed to-”
“Like?” Gale asked impatiently.
“Like resurrecting their master-god-person.” Tara said. “Xhango. They plan to bring him back to life, and that Fantomah woman is the key.”
For minutes, silence reigned, as each Sentinel was at a loss for words. They watched the telescreen helplessly as the craft now known as Fantomah’s coffin hovered before a pair of enormous golden doors, resembling those for a giant, built several hundred feet beneath Kibo Peak, Kilimanjaro’s highest crest.
“They’ve definitely traded up…” Tara was the first to speak, although her murmur barely registered to the others.
“Those are mighty big doors for us to knock on.” Amazona marveled.
“Something tells me it’s now or never, ladies.” Gale said, never taking her eyes from the telescreen, watching as the massive doors leisurely opened silently in the vacuum. “Atoma…get ready to surge forward with all you have…”
“Okay, I-” the artificial intelligence began to confirm, before her words suddenly deteriorated into a shrill scream. Before the horrified eyes of all present, the holographic woman fell to her knees, clutching her right arm and sobbing in agony. Where her limb once was, a stump had taken its place, with red neon binary numbers dripping from the open wound.
Gale’s blue eyes returned to the telescreen just in time to see the culprit of Atoma’s injury…a blink of light, infinitesimal in duration, resembling a cross of white. With mounting terror, the leader of the Sentinels remembered that Atoma was the physical representation of the rocketship. Thus, if she was now missing an arm…
“Get to the Seraphs!” she screamed instinctively, bolting from her chair and racing towards the bridge’s sliding doors. The other three, having gathered around to console the weeping Atoma, looked at her in shock.
“You idiots!” Gale screamed at them. “Atoma’s arm is gone because the right side of the ship is gone!”
“Coldblooded!” Amazona exclaimed, joining the others in a mad scramble to the bridge’s doors. But just then, half of Atoma’s head suddenly vanish, causing her to be flung backward like a ragdoll. Her lithe form dematerialized before she could fully collapse to the ground.
That was also when half of the bridge vanished into nothingness, leaving only the vacuum.
Gale was able to grasp the Arctic woman’s hand before the sudden decompression swept her out into the cold, relentless void. Her leg was in turn being held by Tara with both hands. With her left arm wrapped around the Pirate Queen’s waist, Moon Girl anchored the human chain inside the ship’s corridor with an embedded right hand twisting one of the hallway golden friezes. Although her strength was mighty, the Princess of Samarkand was in a struggle with one of the primordial forces of the universe…space, which seemed more than eager to claim the love of her life. She also had to make sure that she did not crush her teammate’s midsection in her trepidation.
“Here we go!” she screeched as she inched her way further down the corridor, dragging her companions inside.
“It’s going to be okay!” Gale screamed to Amazona over the rushing air. “We got you!”
“Then make it snappy!” Amazona screamed back, apprehensively looking past her feet towards the yawning speckled black beyond, a view of oblivion.
Although adrenaline made the process seem like hours, Moon Girl managed to pull the Sentinels out of the demolished bridge into the safety of the corridor in a matter of seconds. Gale was the first on her feet, slamming a fist on the button to close the bridge doors, and then racing down the hallway. After a few seconds to catch their breath, the other three doggedly pursued her.
“What happened to the hologirl?” Tara huffed, jogging side-by-side with the blond Venusian.
“Antimatter cannons.” Gale told her. “I thought they were lost technology…ever since the Antar Wars of 2055…but this…”
“What do you mean ‘antimatter cannons’?” Amazona asked tensely.
“That’s why instead of exploding…things just ceased to be.” Gale explained between gasps. “The cannons are weapons that can project antimatter…the opposite of…well, matter…and when the two interact, they essentially cancel each other out. Matter basically cease existing-”
“If that’s the case…” the raven-haired warrior slowed to a walk. “Then why do I still feel my fingers?”
Everyone halted in midstride and stared fearfully at Amazona’s left hand…or what was left of it. Her fingers, and by extension her knuckleduster, were gone, although no blood seeped from the subsequent wounds. In fact, the wounds were not natural, but resembled holes displaying reflective, multicolored pools…of something.
“Sweetheart!” Moon Girl squealed mournfully, vigorously inspecting Amazona’s hand. “How did this happen? Are you alright?”
“She was the closest to the second antimatter blast.” Gale deduced. “And there may have been some residual antimatter particles that caused those…wounds as well.”
“But I still feel my fingers…” Amazona trailed off, chuckling fretfully at the strange situation.
Tara blushed and looked away bashfully. “Guess I didn’t know everything about that cult…”
Gale sniffed and continued her jog through the ship’s corridors. “Guess that’s been established. Come on, everyone. We get out of here first. Clean up afterward.”
“Little cold about the hologirl, though.” Tara raced after her, followed by the other two. “If I didn’t know any better, it was like you were going to leave her to die…”
“It’s a machine.” Gale stared straight ahead. “Not something with a heart or soul. Have to admit…still getting use to you having empathy…”
“And you without it.” Tara retorted.
Just as the golden blonde was about to murmur a reply, her foot dangled in space. The corridor immediately before them had disintegrated into nothingness. Luckily, Amazona and Moon Girl were able to whisk the other two into an adjoining corridor with twin bursts of superhuman speed.
“Just a few more steps!” Gale cried over the abandoning air, charging forward clumsily.
The death knell of the elite rocketship Atoma came a few seconds later. A few hundred light minutes away, a flash of light, a white cross, erupted. The remnants of the glass vessel vanished, no longer a part of the universe.
M. Hadley Presents: The Emperor In The Mountain
The Emperor In The Mountain:
Strange Perils!
By M. Hadley
It was more Tyche than Athena, more blind luck than brilliant strategy. Before the spacecraft was completely dematerialized, each Sentinel managed to don her Seraph – a rocketpack/ hardlight suit combination – and leap gallantly through the ad hoc holes in the hull into space, maintaining sublight speed by engaging their rockets immediately after disembarking. If the event had been viewed by one of Earthly artistic or religious persuasion, he or she would have sworn that a band of burning angels had emerged from the vanishing space vessel.
After all, the Seraphs earned their names from the expansive golden wings on the rocketpacks, as well as the shimmering golden glow of the translucent hardlight suits that provided air, comfort, and protection from the void. Of course, the visual of a halo around the forehead was totally unnecessary for survival, and only served to demonstrate Mysta’s hubris.
The four queens of the impossible raced not to the mountain, but towards the destroyer of Atoma which now obstructed their path. It was a spherical monstrosity of metal resembling a human eye, but with a mirrored exterior that reflected its starry surroundings, essentially rendering it invisible. As the adventurous quartet drew near, the intimidation factor grew exponentially. For the metal eye spanned the height and width of several thousand kilometers, seemingly the size of a monstrous asteroid…and it was only one of a legion surrounding Mount Kilimanjaro.
“By my Ancestors!” an exclamation escaped Gale’s lips, relayed to everyone via the shared communicator link of the Seraphs.
“A field of antimatter cannons!” Moon Girl could barely contain her panic. “How are we going to get past all of them?”
“And why are we barreling towards one now?” Tara asked, her tone indicating annoyance. To emphasize this, she spun around on her back and crossed her arms, frowning excessively at her rival.
“Amazona?” Gale looked away, ignoring the space swashbuckler. When the Arctic woman, who tarried slightly behind the others, did not answer, the Venusian maiden slowed her flight speed to match hers. The golden blonde found her friend flying with her eyes closed, her hands and arms outstretched forward awkwardly.
“Amazona!” she half chortled, half-reprimanded.
“Leave me alone!” the raven-haired beauty whined, blushing vibrantly with eyes still firmly shut. “I-I-I can’t do it, Gale! I can’t look…I’ll get sick!”
“Then why not leave?” Tara slowed down to fly on the other side of the taller woman. “The Sentinels, I mean. Or stay at the Citadel with Mysta and the creepy robot. If you’re just going to be leaving a vomit trail across the galaxies, why not just keep your feet firmly planted on solid ground? On Earth?”
“Er…everyone?” Moon Girl began to speak up, but was promptly ignored.
“How dare you-!” Gale shouted, but Tara silenced her with a hard glare.
“Go home…leave Pax Xhangona to us.” The platinum blonde continued empathetically. “You have an uncontrollable weakness…it’s not your fault. Once we get out of this mess…no one will judge if you decide to leave, find your way back home. I’ll get Xhango for you and your people…”
“Gale…guys?” Moon Girl cried over her shoulder, but was ignored again.
“Just go home.” Tara placed a reassuring hand on Amazona’s shoulder. “Besides, you’re legitimately injured. You started the race. You ran it. We’ll finish it-”
“No.” Amazona shrugged Tara’s hand away and opened her eyes, glaring at the pirate. “Get to the back of the line. Pax Xhangona, Xhango…they’re all mine.”
Feigning surprise, Tara increased her rocket propulsion and pulled forward while giving Gale a sly smirk. “Always said revenge was one hell of a motivator…”
“HEY!” Moon Girl screamed into her communicator, gaining everyone’s attention in an instant. “The cannon is about to fire!”
Three pairs of horrified eyes joined the fourth staring forward at the immense sphere, which began to open lengthwise, revealing a gigantic portal of black. From the vantage point of their approach, it resembled a black hole, a chunk of missing universe. Remembering how fast the dazzling cross of light was, Gale only knew she had less than a second to react.
“Split up!” she barked, already flying in a two o’clock high position. “It’ll be harder for any of the cannons to hit us if we scatter-”
“But that would make only one of us the target!” Amazona squealed in protest. “Are you kidding me?!”
“You didn’t let me finish!” Gale snapped. “We split up. We regroup on the back of that thing.”
“She’s right.” Tara interjected. “Besides, clustered together, we’re all just one huge target…”
“And then what?” Moon Girl gave the golden blonde a look of incredulousness.
Gale gave Tara a sly smirk of her own. “Resurrection.”
“The other cannons are turning our way!” Amazona reported, watching with mounting dread as another gigantic sphere a few hundred meters away began to open lengthwise as well.
“Go!” Gale screamed in her communicator. “Separate now! Converge on my mark!”
They dispersed like shimmering sparks from an explosion, spreading in wildly different directions of the clock: Amazona was twelve o’ clock low, Moon Girl was three o’ clock high, and Tara was nine o’ clock high. Meanwhile, the black interior of the sphere began to turn white, indicating a pending discharge of the antimatter cannon. However, as Gale anticipated, the weapon failed to activate as its parameters were forcefully breached. Instead of a singular target, it now had four…although the possibility of eliminating one was still on the table.
Thankfully, the space heroines were able to complete their multidirectional arcs on golden wings, carrying them from the dangerous path of the cannon to its far side. Landing first on the slippery reflective surface, Gale cocked her head to the right and pressed her left golden earring. As the others landed and watched her intensely, they were suddenly taken aback by the brilliant flash of neon pink binary numbers. The intangible form of Atoma suddenly materialized in their midst, fully formed, although flickering somewhat like a bad telescreen image.
“The report of my death was an exaggeration!” she spoke through their communicator link, interlaced with bursts of static.
“I thought it was ‘the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated’.” Moon Girl cracked a smile, relieved to see the resurgence of the artificial intelligence.
“A centuries old misquote.” Atoma chuckled.
“I…I thought…” Tara’s eyes widened in astonishment. “I thought you were linked to the ship…”
“Atoma was built by Mysta of the Moon.” Gale told her. “A super artificial intelligence that can move anywhere as long as electronics are around.”
“My second home is in Gale’s earrings.” The holographic woman explained. “And by the way, Tara…your concern was touching.”
“I…” the space pirate trailed off, not knowing what to say.
“And your lack of concern bothered me.” Atoma turned to Gale, crossing her arms and shaking her head in a chiding manner. “I’m just some type of tool to you?”
“Yeah.” Gale nodded, expressionless. “You’re just my little electric slave. Now c’mon, Twiki… get your tail into this thing and take it over before I tell Mysta to debug you!”
“How dare you!” Atoma suddenly exploded into tears, sinking to her knees. “Not one moment of silence with you! How can you be so heartless? So cruel?!”
“Yeah, how can-” Tara stalked forward, ready to tell her adversary off, before Amazona gently grabbed her arm.
“It’s a silly routine with them.” The Mighty Woman told her. “Gale’s just joking with her.”
The Pirate Queen nodded. “I see. How is your hand?”
Amazona held up her fingerless left hand, with its bizarre multicolored wounds, and shrugged feebly. “I can still feel my fingers…I think.”
“I’ll wrap it as soon as we get into some kind of atmosphere.” Moon Girl gently grabbed Amazona’s wrist and inspected the hand once again.
“Here we go.” Tara said quietly, nodding towards the other two members of the party. Atoma had dived below the mirrored surface of the sphere as easy as one swimming through water. A large neon blue ring was left in her wake. It quickly expanded, rippling past the four Sentinels and engulfing the entire sphere itself. Suddenly, a violent tremor nearly caused the galactic warriors to lose their balance. Seconds later, millions of tiny neon blue fissures exploded across the reflective surface, revealing flashes of complex circuitry. Then, little by little, the sphere began to rotate, turning towards Mount Kilimanjaro.
Atoma had successfully commandeered the metal eye.
“Go for the doors!” Gale cried. “Break them down!”
The sphere began to pick up speed, bolstered by giant rocket engines emerging from beneath the surface. The danger of this necessitated the group’s movement to the top of the machine. However, the smooth surface of the thing offered no grip, threatening to send them tumbling off into the void.
“Activate your rocketpacks!” Gale ordered, laying flat on her stomach and spreading her golden wings. “It’s the only way!”
The other three mirrored their leader, lying flat, palms and toes pressed on the sphere’s exterior, rocketpacks roaring to life silently. Meanwhile, as the floating mountain drew nearer, the other hundred or so metal eyes flared to life and attacked the rogue with coordinated antimatter blasts. The resulting volleys caused the Atoma-possessed sphere to shift about violently, much to the detriment of its precious cargo. More than once did a last minute grab save a companion from sliding off into space.
“Gale, got some bad news!” Atoma spoke, her modulated voice reverberating.
“I don’t need that right now!” Gale squealed, catching Tara by the wrist just as she was about to slide away. Relentless antagonists stared shockingly at each other for seconds before Atoma’s edgy voice brought them back to reality. Sighing deeply, Gale pulled Tara back to the surface, helping her to regain her position.
“Gale…I can’t activate the cannon!” Atoma whimpered. “I’m going to have to crash through!”
“Hurry!” the veteran spacefighter cried, realizing the situation had quickly escalated beyond her control. Covering her head with her arms instinctively – despite the fact that the hardlight suit would have protected her from physical harm anyway – she quickly told the others to mirror her and waited hesitantly for the damage to be done. Weaving through a deadly labyrinth of antimatter blasts and flying eye spheres, the Atoma-possessed cannon remained undeterred on its direct path to the gigantic double doors in the mountain.
Soundlessly it exploded through them, as easily and precisely as a red hot knife through soft butter.
*****************************************************
Their first encounter with Pax Xhangona’s godhead was just beyond the massive threshold, and it was an easy victory. The Atoma-controlled sphere plowed through the gigantic statue as effortlessly as if it was made of air, leaving a cloud of stony debris floating in its wake. The enormous head lingered however, temporarily pinned in place by the terrific speed of its demolisher. The sculpted visage was not human, but an elaborate oval African mask, with a pair of darkened rectangular eyes and an equally darkened rectangular mouth.
However, disaster immediately struck, heralded by an eerie broadcast of Atoma’s piercing shriek over the Sentinels’ communicator link. The fast moving sphere suddenly became lifeless, the rockets silencing, causing it initially to bounce several times like a child’s toy before crashing violently. Caught unawares, the Sentinels were flung from the top of the sphere at the apex of one such rebound and sent hurtling into space. Thankfully, their hardlight suits protected them as they plunged to the unyielding metal floor.
Gravity. The mountain had artificial gravity.
“Everyone peachy?” Gale stood up, rubbing her neck and sighing in relief.
“Yeah.” Tara nodded, stretching her legs.
“A-ok, Chief.” Amazona smiled nervously, delivering a thumbs-up sign with her good right hand.
“Just fine.” Moon Girl chimed in, sliding an arm around Amazona’s shoulder and helping her up.
“Atoma? Can you hear me?” Gale spoke apprehensively into her communicator link, surveying where they had landed. They now stood in what resembled a shadowy field of giant golden stone pillars, seemingly infinite in length and homogeneous in makeup; no matter how far the Venusian’s blue eyes searched, she could find no end in sight. The columns stretched upward into a carpet of black, their height as undeterminable as their number.
“So…now what?” she reluctantly deferred to the Pirate Queen. “Where do we go from here?”
“So now I’m the leader of the bunch?” Tara tittered, hands on shapely hips. “What happened to democratic selection and all that?”
“Look…”Gale exhaled deeply. “We got off on the wrong foot-”
“Ha!” Tara jeered. “Definitely an expert of understatement, this one-”
“-Mysta saw something in you to warrant a spot on this team.” The golden blonde walked over to the space buccaneer, her right hand outstretched for a handshake. “For the sake of this mission…for the enemy we both share…we all share…let’s leave the past and step into the present.”
Tara regarded the hand warily. “So the badge and handcuffs go away?”
Gale smiled genuinely. “Let’s just say Nagana has bumped you from the top of my Most Wanted list.”
The Pirate Queen reluctantly took her hand and shook it, grinning. “That’s a relief. For a minute there, I thought we would actually become friends…”
“Gale! Tara!” Amazona called to her comrades from several feet away. The other two Sentinels had wandered off, closely inspecting the massive columns that surrounded them. Now Moon Girl vigorously waved them over while Amazona peered intensely at a spot on one of the pillars, following along with her index finger. Her hardlight suit illuminated brighter in order to read the symbols.
“What happened to Atoma?” the Samarkand beauty asked when the other two finally reach the spot.
“I can’t honestly say.” Gale shrugged. “I’m guessing some kind of defense mechanism that shorts out A.I. I’m hoping those fanatics have spaceships in this creepy place, or we’re sunk.”
“What about the Seraphs?” Amazona nodded down at the translucent film of energy protecting her body. “They’d still protect us, right?”
“Sadly, the energy source of the Seraphs is not perpetual.” Gale shook her head slowly, causing her golden locks to bounce. “They have to be charged up periodically…and if the ship hadn’t been destroyed…”
“‘What ifs’ make me uncomfortable.” Tara muttered, taking a closer look at where Amazona’s finger rested. “Looks like ancient Earth-style symbols…hieroglyphs?”
Amazona frowned and shook her head. “Looks like it, right? But they aren’t. In fact, they are the strangest symbols I’ve ever seen.”
“So, you’re an Egyptologist now?” Gale cocked her head, her face displaying disbelief.
“What part of ‘lost Arctic super race’ do you not understand?” the Mighty Woman chuckled heartily. “Most of what passes for university courses on the rest of Earth was nothing more than elementary classes for my people. For example, we learned calculus in our equivalent of your kindergarten…and can solve all seven ‘Millennium Prize Problems’ by third grade.”
“And yet modesty seemed to have eluded the teaching curriculum.” Tara quipped, earning a giggle from Gale and an evil glance from Moon Girl.
“Anyway…” Amazona flashed her teammate a dark look. “Looking at this place, and the way the pillars are positioned…we are in a replica of the Great Hypostyle Hall of Karnak-”
She paused, caught off guard by the blank stares of the others. “Karnak Temple? One of the most famous Ancient Egyptian temples in history? Dedicated to Atum-Re?”
Gale shrugged. “I’m Venusian.”
Moon Girl blushed. “I’m the Princess of Samarkand.”
“I’m a suspected intergalactic terrorist.” Tara laughed. “But then again, you said you’re from the Arctic, right? There was probably nothing there to do but learn. I mean, where was your makeout spot? An ice floe with a polar bear?”
“Hmmmm…guess I just learned something else…” Amazona rolled her copper eyes. “Your wits are not as sharp as your sword.”
“Okay, to your corners.” Gale chuckled, waving Tara off as she kneeled beside the taller woman, staring at the symbols intensely. Even to her untrained eyes, they did not resemble the centuries old wall impressions she had seen on random Earth history discs. Instead, they were reminiscent of very crude comic panels with stick figures. In one panel, a stick figure held what seemed to be a whip in the air, poised to strike another figure in supplication before him. Another panel displayed a bizarre gathering of stick figures under a tree, enclosing another figure hanging from it with a rope around his neck.
“By Jupiter’s Moons…” Moon Girl whispered. “How awful. How very, very awful…”
Both Sentinels glanced over at the Lovely Daughter of Luna, whose face was very tearstained. She had been sobbing silently. Instinctively, the Mighty Woman stood up and walked over to her, cradling the princess in her arms and whispering reassurances in her ear. Moon Girl’s weeping became audible as she buried her face in Amazona’s shoulder.
“What happened?” Tara asked, hastily returning from her own column inspection a short distance away.
“Beats me.” The sultry gunslinger shrugged. “She just started breaking down-”
“Can’t you hear it?!” Moon Girl cried disbelievingly, gently pulling away from Amazona. “The screams! The cries! The death and destruction!”
The Pirate Queen and the Venusian Beauty shook their heads in puzzled unison.
“By the Gods, are you kidding?!” Moon Girl paced agitatedly in a circle, covering her ears with both hands. “It’s deafening! I…I have to leave! I have to get out of here!”
“It’s a Moonstone thing.”Tara threw out a nervous suggestion. “It’s supposed to be psychic or something, right?”
Moon Girl said nothing, only wiping tears from her eyes as she marched a few feet away from the others, fighting to regain her composure. Meanwhile, both Amazona and Gale exchanged frightful glances.
“The panels…one depicts a man being beaten by another man.” The raven-haired woman explained to Tara. “The other…has a man being hung from a tree by a mob of people. He was being lynched…a horrible act that was a hallmark of racial violence. In fact, both were crimes suffered by the American descendents of African slaves.”
“So this was what Pax Xhangona was founded on?” Gale muttered under her breath. “A history of violence? But when does it stop? When will someone step in to halt the cycle?”
She was about to share her revelation with her allies before she suddenly realized that the world had changed. Gone were the giant stone pillars, the black ceiling, and her team for the matter. She now stood in a town- the diameter of the sun, the unique taste of air, and the emerald grass telling her that she was on Earth- before a two-story wooden plank house…which was on fire.
In fact, every structure around her burned hellishly, from what resembled an early Twentieth Century schoolhouse to other houses, several stores and a church. The initial rose fragrance that had delightfully overwhelmed her nostrils upon arrival was now distorted by the weighty odor of blazing wood and thick smoke.
“Sizzling Starbursts…” Gale gasped, taking in the demonic landscape that now surrounded her. “Where in the universe am I?!”
Just as she was about to call out her teammates’ names, a group of Caucasian Earthmen suddenly appeared from behind one of the burning buildings. They numbered over four dozen, each armed with primitive Twentieth Century shotguns. In fact, it was if these beings had magically strolled from a history disc of the 1920s, sporting such period items as newsboy caps, sport jackets, and long shaggy beards.
“Hey! There’s one of ‘em!” one of the men shouted in a thick Appalachian twang, leveling his weapon at the Venusian Gunslinger.
Although confused, Gale’s survival instincts were not inert. Her hands were at her thighs, twitching fingers flashing towards her raygun handles. However, she grasped air. The golden blonde looked down in horror to find that her precious weapons, as well as their thigh holsters, were missing!
“Halt! Who are yo-” she managed to cry before the rest of her words died in the thunder of a shotgun blast.
A flash of hellfire nicked her arm, the resulting pain and force sending her sprawling to the ground. She was up on quivering legs before her mind realized it, cradling her right arm with her left hand, the stark red blood from her wound trickling through her fingers. With no plan in mind, she ran blind, erratically, praying that her haphazard course would provide some protection from the subsequent volley of bullets. She did not look back, her ears supplying more than enough information about her assailants.
“Look at ‘er run!” one voice screamed with a war whoop. “They know they can sure run!”
“Get after her!” another cried.
The bullets-slower than laser rays but no less deadly- chewed at the roses and grass as Gale raced through the burning town, desperately searching for shelter. Besides the crazed gunmen hunting her, the tolling church bells were throwing off her concentration-
“That’s it!” she whispered hopefully. “There must be a church still standing! Bells can’t ring in a burning church, can they?”
Praying that her limited knowledge of Earth American history was not off, the Venusian nymph dashed forward, frantically searching for what seemed to be a proverbial needle in a haystack. Thankfully, a few minutes into her hunt yielded a much needed result. At the edge of town she found a small church, untouched by the omnipresent flames, with bells clanging mournfully in its steeple. She seized the opportunity for safe haven without hesitation, racing into the deserted sanctuary and propping one of the loosen pews against its double doors. Then, taking a deep breath, she regained a measure of cool, sitting on another pew and inspecting her wound. All she could determine was that something had burrowed into her arm like some fantastic creature; yet, without any medical knowledge, and more importantly historical knowledge, there was nothing she could do to heal herself.
Her mind continued to draw a blank on how she had arrived in such a bizarre strait. How did she get from the mountain to early Twentieth Century Earth in the first place? Had Nagana been hiding amongst the columns, weaving a magic spell? How would she be able to return to her own time?
Her sparkling azure eyes drifted from the empty pulpit and equally deserted choir area to a stained glass window displaying the Earth Christian cross. What was this place? Why were the men after her? Why was the town on fire?
The stained glass window suddenly shattered, ending her inquiry-filled reverie. Sun-baked masculine faces peered in, followed by the long cold barrels of their shotguns. With murderous leers, they filed in, one by one, crushing the glass to power underfoot as they surrounded their wounded blonde prize. Initially aiming their deadly weapons at her, they all quickly abandoned them in unnatural unison and began to grab at the poor woman with clammy hands.
At the outset indomitable, Gale’s façade crumbled in the face of sheer helplessness. She began to scream in terror, hurling insults and cries of revenge…
…and Moon Girl heard them, but could not yet reach her leader. Her lithe body was being held in a full nelson by a hirsute brute of enormous stature, a great ape, one of a band of brown gorillas that had ambushed them. Somehow, the giant primate was able to function without environmental protection (despite the gravity, the hardlight suits detected no functioning atmosphere), although the Moonstone told her that it was because of magic. As much as she struggled, her immense strength seemed to be no match for the beast, who easily kept her docile in its wrestling hold.
Meanwhile, her teammates had collapsed into hysteria, each trapped in a mental delusion of some kind. The gorillas assaulting them seemed to be a part of the delirium. For example, Gale kicked furiously when one of the apes took a hold of her legs, while Amazona swatted blindly at the trio encircling her, temporarily holding them at bay. Their hardlight suits had been mysteriously drained as well, leaving them defenseless against the assault.
“So…it seems that Samarkand’s precious heirloom kept you from experiencing the Rite of Initiation.” A silky female voice boomed, seemingly coming from the gorilla that held Moon Girl.
“Nagana?” Moon Girl half declared, half-asked.
“January 1, 1923.” The voice continued. “Our savior was born when the town of Caesar fell. His blood is that of the men and women slain on that terrible day. His voice is that of the innocents who cried to the heavens, wondering why…why was hatred visited on their town? His muscles are that of the blacksmith Samuel Williams, who was tortured into admitting to a false crime. And his courage…his courage is that of Sylvester Carter…the unconquerable man! That is what your friends are seeing…Caesar’s final day. That is our Rite of Initiation-”
All in a sudden, the Lovely Daughter of Luna swooned, falling limp within the gorilla’s hold. Confused, the great ape slowly eased her flaccid body to the ground. Yet, as soon as her feet touched down, Moon Girl pushed backward with all of her strength, embedding her adversary into a column in a thunderous explosion of dust. The other gorillas stopped harassing their targets and glanced at her in humanlike astonishment, their muzzles agape. Then, pounding their chests and roaring, one from each cluster charged at the curvy Sentinel.
Moving with literal lightning speed, Moon Girl waylaid one hairy brute with a resounding right haymaker, sending him spinning like a wild rocket for a considerable distance. Another received a roundhouse kick in the belly (sending an unexpected blast of potent halitosis up the Princess’s nose) before being kayoed with a beautiful spin kick. The last was dispatched with simple judo; a flip over the shoulder disoriented him, while a follow-up chop to the neck sent him on the dreamland express.
“Gor!” Nagana’s voice thundered, all-pervading. “Dispatch this wayward girl!”
The legendary Gorilla King’s appearance, spiked collar and all, was an expert exercise in shock and awe. Having ignored her enemy’s declaration, Moon Girl blindly charged towards her friends, only to run headlong into a golden brown stomach of seeming organic steel. Gor dwarfed the apes under his command with ease, standing at least a fourth of a story tall, with bulging, very visible muscles as big as cannonballs. He stared down at the fallen heroine with golden eyes radiating madness, gnashing sharp teeth the size of broadswords.
Love and camaraderie spurred Moon Girl onward against the jungle leviathan, unleashing a fury of middle and high spin kicks on him. However, Gor caught her foot with ease, and in one fluid motion, swatted her against the ground like an angry child with a toy. Then, refusing to let the battered Girl of Moonlight regain her bearings, the gargantuan ape took the Sentinel up into a massive bearhug and squeezed the life out of her. With all of the willpower at her command, Moon Girl furiously hammered at the beast’s face, arms, and shoulders, but to no avail. She could not help but whimper as her ribs protested in agony, and air became trapped in her lungs. The monstrous profile of the creature before her began to waver and dance. Soon, her blows weakened, and before long her arms dangled uselessly at her sides. Her body surrendered before her mind could. Before the darkness of unconsciousness crept over her, she witnessed a triumphant sneer from the King of the Gorillas.
Impassively swinging his defeated prey over his huge shoulder, Gor roared a thunderous command for his troops to assemble. Grunting vigorously, his beastly subordinates obeyed, a horde each gingerly carrying the slumbering form of a subdued galactic beauty in a makeshift cradle of muscular hairy arms. Leading his army, the Gorilla King shuffled forward proudly on giant knuckles – an easy contender for the crown of the jungle - and vanished amongst the gigantic pillars as wraithlike as he and his legions appeared.
Strange Perils!
By M. Hadley
It was more Tyche than Athena, more blind luck than brilliant strategy. Before the spacecraft was completely dematerialized, each Sentinel managed to don her Seraph – a rocketpack/ hardlight suit combination – and leap gallantly through the ad hoc holes in the hull into space, maintaining sublight speed by engaging their rockets immediately after disembarking. If the event had been viewed by one of Earthly artistic or religious persuasion, he or she would have sworn that a band of burning angels had emerged from the vanishing space vessel.
After all, the Seraphs earned their names from the expansive golden wings on the rocketpacks, as well as the shimmering golden glow of the translucent hardlight suits that provided air, comfort, and protection from the void. Of course, the visual of a halo around the forehead was totally unnecessary for survival, and only served to demonstrate Mysta’s hubris.
The four queens of the impossible raced not to the mountain, but towards the destroyer of Atoma which now obstructed their path. It was a spherical monstrosity of metal resembling a human eye, but with a mirrored exterior that reflected its starry surroundings, essentially rendering it invisible. As the adventurous quartet drew near, the intimidation factor grew exponentially. For the metal eye spanned the height and width of several thousand kilometers, seemingly the size of a monstrous asteroid…and it was only one of a legion surrounding Mount Kilimanjaro.
“By my Ancestors!” an exclamation escaped Gale’s lips, relayed to everyone via the shared communicator link of the Seraphs.
“A field of antimatter cannons!” Moon Girl could barely contain her panic. “How are we going to get past all of them?”
“And why are we barreling towards one now?” Tara asked, her tone indicating annoyance. To emphasize this, she spun around on her back and crossed her arms, frowning excessively at her rival.
“Amazona?” Gale looked away, ignoring the space swashbuckler. When the Arctic woman, who tarried slightly behind the others, did not answer, the Venusian maiden slowed her flight speed to match hers. The golden blonde found her friend flying with her eyes closed, her hands and arms outstretched forward awkwardly.
“Amazona!” she half chortled, half-reprimanded.
“Leave me alone!” the raven-haired beauty whined, blushing vibrantly with eyes still firmly shut. “I-I-I can’t do it, Gale! I can’t look…I’ll get sick!”
“Then why not leave?” Tara slowed down to fly on the other side of the taller woman. “The Sentinels, I mean. Or stay at the Citadel with Mysta and the creepy robot. If you’re just going to be leaving a vomit trail across the galaxies, why not just keep your feet firmly planted on solid ground? On Earth?”
“Er…everyone?” Moon Girl began to speak up, but was promptly ignored.
“How dare you-!” Gale shouted, but Tara silenced her with a hard glare.
“Go home…leave Pax Xhangona to us.” The platinum blonde continued empathetically. “You have an uncontrollable weakness…it’s not your fault. Once we get out of this mess…no one will judge if you decide to leave, find your way back home. I’ll get Xhango for you and your people…”
“Gale…guys?” Moon Girl cried over her shoulder, but was ignored again.
“Just go home.” Tara placed a reassuring hand on Amazona’s shoulder. “Besides, you’re legitimately injured. You started the race. You ran it. We’ll finish it-”
“No.” Amazona shrugged Tara’s hand away and opened her eyes, glaring at the pirate. “Get to the back of the line. Pax Xhangona, Xhango…they’re all mine.”
Feigning surprise, Tara increased her rocket propulsion and pulled forward while giving Gale a sly smirk. “Always said revenge was one hell of a motivator…”
“HEY!” Moon Girl screamed into her communicator, gaining everyone’s attention in an instant. “The cannon is about to fire!”
Three pairs of horrified eyes joined the fourth staring forward at the immense sphere, which began to open lengthwise, revealing a gigantic portal of black. From the vantage point of their approach, it resembled a black hole, a chunk of missing universe. Remembering how fast the dazzling cross of light was, Gale only knew she had less than a second to react.
“Split up!” she barked, already flying in a two o’clock high position. “It’ll be harder for any of the cannons to hit us if we scatter-”
“But that would make only one of us the target!” Amazona squealed in protest. “Are you kidding me?!”
“You didn’t let me finish!” Gale snapped. “We split up. We regroup on the back of that thing.”
“She’s right.” Tara interjected. “Besides, clustered together, we’re all just one huge target…”
“And then what?” Moon Girl gave the golden blonde a look of incredulousness.
Gale gave Tara a sly smirk of her own. “Resurrection.”
“The other cannons are turning our way!” Amazona reported, watching with mounting dread as another gigantic sphere a few hundred meters away began to open lengthwise as well.
“Go!” Gale screamed in her communicator. “Separate now! Converge on my mark!”
They dispersed like shimmering sparks from an explosion, spreading in wildly different directions of the clock: Amazona was twelve o’ clock low, Moon Girl was three o’ clock high, and Tara was nine o’ clock high. Meanwhile, the black interior of the sphere began to turn white, indicating a pending discharge of the antimatter cannon. However, as Gale anticipated, the weapon failed to activate as its parameters were forcefully breached. Instead of a singular target, it now had four…although the possibility of eliminating one was still on the table.
Thankfully, the space heroines were able to complete their multidirectional arcs on golden wings, carrying them from the dangerous path of the cannon to its far side. Landing first on the slippery reflective surface, Gale cocked her head to the right and pressed her left golden earring. As the others landed and watched her intensely, they were suddenly taken aback by the brilliant flash of neon pink binary numbers. The intangible form of Atoma suddenly materialized in their midst, fully formed, although flickering somewhat like a bad telescreen image.
“The report of my death was an exaggeration!” she spoke through their communicator link, interlaced with bursts of static.
“I thought it was ‘the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated’.” Moon Girl cracked a smile, relieved to see the resurgence of the artificial intelligence.
“A centuries old misquote.” Atoma chuckled.
“I…I thought…” Tara’s eyes widened in astonishment. “I thought you were linked to the ship…”
“Atoma was built by Mysta of the Moon.” Gale told her. “A super artificial intelligence that can move anywhere as long as electronics are around.”
“My second home is in Gale’s earrings.” The holographic woman explained. “And by the way, Tara…your concern was touching.”
“I…” the space pirate trailed off, not knowing what to say.
“And your lack of concern bothered me.” Atoma turned to Gale, crossing her arms and shaking her head in a chiding manner. “I’m just some type of tool to you?”
“Yeah.” Gale nodded, expressionless. “You’re just my little electric slave. Now c’mon, Twiki… get your tail into this thing and take it over before I tell Mysta to debug you!”
“How dare you!” Atoma suddenly exploded into tears, sinking to her knees. “Not one moment of silence with you! How can you be so heartless? So cruel?!”
“Yeah, how can-” Tara stalked forward, ready to tell her adversary off, before Amazona gently grabbed her arm.
“It’s a silly routine with them.” The Mighty Woman told her. “Gale’s just joking with her.”
The Pirate Queen nodded. “I see. How is your hand?”
Amazona held up her fingerless left hand, with its bizarre multicolored wounds, and shrugged feebly. “I can still feel my fingers…I think.”
“I’ll wrap it as soon as we get into some kind of atmosphere.” Moon Girl gently grabbed Amazona’s wrist and inspected the hand once again.
“Here we go.” Tara said quietly, nodding towards the other two members of the party. Atoma had dived below the mirrored surface of the sphere as easy as one swimming through water. A large neon blue ring was left in her wake. It quickly expanded, rippling past the four Sentinels and engulfing the entire sphere itself. Suddenly, a violent tremor nearly caused the galactic warriors to lose their balance. Seconds later, millions of tiny neon blue fissures exploded across the reflective surface, revealing flashes of complex circuitry. Then, little by little, the sphere began to rotate, turning towards Mount Kilimanjaro.
Atoma had successfully commandeered the metal eye.
“Go for the doors!” Gale cried. “Break them down!”
The sphere began to pick up speed, bolstered by giant rocket engines emerging from beneath the surface. The danger of this necessitated the group’s movement to the top of the machine. However, the smooth surface of the thing offered no grip, threatening to send them tumbling off into the void.
“Activate your rocketpacks!” Gale ordered, laying flat on her stomach and spreading her golden wings. “It’s the only way!”
The other three mirrored their leader, lying flat, palms and toes pressed on the sphere’s exterior, rocketpacks roaring to life silently. Meanwhile, as the floating mountain drew nearer, the other hundred or so metal eyes flared to life and attacked the rogue with coordinated antimatter blasts. The resulting volleys caused the Atoma-possessed sphere to shift about violently, much to the detriment of its precious cargo. More than once did a last minute grab save a companion from sliding off into space.
“Gale, got some bad news!” Atoma spoke, her modulated voice reverberating.
“I don’t need that right now!” Gale squealed, catching Tara by the wrist just as she was about to slide away. Relentless antagonists stared shockingly at each other for seconds before Atoma’s edgy voice brought them back to reality. Sighing deeply, Gale pulled Tara back to the surface, helping her to regain her position.
“Gale…I can’t activate the cannon!” Atoma whimpered. “I’m going to have to crash through!”
“Hurry!” the veteran spacefighter cried, realizing the situation had quickly escalated beyond her control. Covering her head with her arms instinctively – despite the fact that the hardlight suit would have protected her from physical harm anyway – she quickly told the others to mirror her and waited hesitantly for the damage to be done. Weaving through a deadly labyrinth of antimatter blasts and flying eye spheres, the Atoma-possessed cannon remained undeterred on its direct path to the gigantic double doors in the mountain.
Soundlessly it exploded through them, as easily and precisely as a red hot knife through soft butter.
*****************************************************
Their first encounter with Pax Xhangona’s godhead was just beyond the massive threshold, and it was an easy victory. The Atoma-controlled sphere plowed through the gigantic statue as effortlessly as if it was made of air, leaving a cloud of stony debris floating in its wake. The enormous head lingered however, temporarily pinned in place by the terrific speed of its demolisher. The sculpted visage was not human, but an elaborate oval African mask, with a pair of darkened rectangular eyes and an equally darkened rectangular mouth.
However, disaster immediately struck, heralded by an eerie broadcast of Atoma’s piercing shriek over the Sentinels’ communicator link. The fast moving sphere suddenly became lifeless, the rockets silencing, causing it initially to bounce several times like a child’s toy before crashing violently. Caught unawares, the Sentinels were flung from the top of the sphere at the apex of one such rebound and sent hurtling into space. Thankfully, their hardlight suits protected them as they plunged to the unyielding metal floor.
Gravity. The mountain had artificial gravity.
“Everyone peachy?” Gale stood up, rubbing her neck and sighing in relief.
“Yeah.” Tara nodded, stretching her legs.
“A-ok, Chief.” Amazona smiled nervously, delivering a thumbs-up sign with her good right hand.
“Just fine.” Moon Girl chimed in, sliding an arm around Amazona’s shoulder and helping her up.
“Atoma? Can you hear me?” Gale spoke apprehensively into her communicator link, surveying where they had landed. They now stood in what resembled a shadowy field of giant golden stone pillars, seemingly infinite in length and homogeneous in makeup; no matter how far the Venusian’s blue eyes searched, she could find no end in sight. The columns stretched upward into a carpet of black, their height as undeterminable as their number.
“So…now what?” she reluctantly deferred to the Pirate Queen. “Where do we go from here?”
“So now I’m the leader of the bunch?” Tara tittered, hands on shapely hips. “What happened to democratic selection and all that?”
“Look…”Gale exhaled deeply. “We got off on the wrong foot-”
“Ha!” Tara jeered. “Definitely an expert of understatement, this one-”
“-Mysta saw something in you to warrant a spot on this team.” The golden blonde walked over to the space buccaneer, her right hand outstretched for a handshake. “For the sake of this mission…for the enemy we both share…we all share…let’s leave the past and step into the present.”
Tara regarded the hand warily. “So the badge and handcuffs go away?”
Gale smiled genuinely. “Let’s just say Nagana has bumped you from the top of my Most Wanted list.”
The Pirate Queen reluctantly took her hand and shook it, grinning. “That’s a relief. For a minute there, I thought we would actually become friends…”
“Gale! Tara!” Amazona called to her comrades from several feet away. The other two Sentinels had wandered off, closely inspecting the massive columns that surrounded them. Now Moon Girl vigorously waved them over while Amazona peered intensely at a spot on one of the pillars, following along with her index finger. Her hardlight suit illuminated brighter in order to read the symbols.
“What happened to Atoma?” the Samarkand beauty asked when the other two finally reach the spot.
“I can’t honestly say.” Gale shrugged. “I’m guessing some kind of defense mechanism that shorts out A.I. I’m hoping those fanatics have spaceships in this creepy place, or we’re sunk.”
“What about the Seraphs?” Amazona nodded down at the translucent film of energy protecting her body. “They’d still protect us, right?”
“Sadly, the energy source of the Seraphs is not perpetual.” Gale shook her head slowly, causing her golden locks to bounce. “They have to be charged up periodically…and if the ship hadn’t been destroyed…”
“‘What ifs’ make me uncomfortable.” Tara muttered, taking a closer look at where Amazona’s finger rested. “Looks like ancient Earth-style symbols…hieroglyphs?”
Amazona frowned and shook her head. “Looks like it, right? But they aren’t. In fact, they are the strangest symbols I’ve ever seen.”
“So, you’re an Egyptologist now?” Gale cocked her head, her face displaying disbelief.
“What part of ‘lost Arctic super race’ do you not understand?” the Mighty Woman chuckled heartily. “Most of what passes for university courses on the rest of Earth was nothing more than elementary classes for my people. For example, we learned calculus in our equivalent of your kindergarten…and can solve all seven ‘Millennium Prize Problems’ by third grade.”
“And yet modesty seemed to have eluded the teaching curriculum.” Tara quipped, earning a giggle from Gale and an evil glance from Moon Girl.
“Anyway…” Amazona flashed her teammate a dark look. “Looking at this place, and the way the pillars are positioned…we are in a replica of the Great Hypostyle Hall of Karnak-”
She paused, caught off guard by the blank stares of the others. “Karnak Temple? One of the most famous Ancient Egyptian temples in history? Dedicated to Atum-Re?”
Gale shrugged. “I’m Venusian.”
Moon Girl blushed. “I’m the Princess of Samarkand.”
“I’m a suspected intergalactic terrorist.” Tara laughed. “But then again, you said you’re from the Arctic, right? There was probably nothing there to do but learn. I mean, where was your makeout spot? An ice floe with a polar bear?”
“Hmmmm…guess I just learned something else…” Amazona rolled her copper eyes. “Your wits are not as sharp as your sword.”
“Okay, to your corners.” Gale chuckled, waving Tara off as she kneeled beside the taller woman, staring at the symbols intensely. Even to her untrained eyes, they did not resemble the centuries old wall impressions she had seen on random Earth history discs. Instead, they were reminiscent of very crude comic panels with stick figures. In one panel, a stick figure held what seemed to be a whip in the air, poised to strike another figure in supplication before him. Another panel displayed a bizarre gathering of stick figures under a tree, enclosing another figure hanging from it with a rope around his neck.
“By Jupiter’s Moons…” Moon Girl whispered. “How awful. How very, very awful…”
Both Sentinels glanced over at the Lovely Daughter of Luna, whose face was very tearstained. She had been sobbing silently. Instinctively, the Mighty Woman stood up and walked over to her, cradling the princess in her arms and whispering reassurances in her ear. Moon Girl’s weeping became audible as she buried her face in Amazona’s shoulder.
“What happened?” Tara asked, hastily returning from her own column inspection a short distance away.
“Beats me.” The sultry gunslinger shrugged. “She just started breaking down-”
“Can’t you hear it?!” Moon Girl cried disbelievingly, gently pulling away from Amazona. “The screams! The cries! The death and destruction!”
The Pirate Queen and the Venusian Beauty shook their heads in puzzled unison.
“By the Gods, are you kidding?!” Moon Girl paced agitatedly in a circle, covering her ears with both hands. “It’s deafening! I…I have to leave! I have to get out of here!”
“It’s a Moonstone thing.”Tara threw out a nervous suggestion. “It’s supposed to be psychic or something, right?”
Moon Girl said nothing, only wiping tears from her eyes as she marched a few feet away from the others, fighting to regain her composure. Meanwhile, both Amazona and Gale exchanged frightful glances.
“The panels…one depicts a man being beaten by another man.” The raven-haired woman explained to Tara. “The other…has a man being hung from a tree by a mob of people. He was being lynched…a horrible act that was a hallmark of racial violence. In fact, both were crimes suffered by the American descendents of African slaves.”
“So this was what Pax Xhangona was founded on?” Gale muttered under her breath. “A history of violence? But when does it stop? When will someone step in to halt the cycle?”
She was about to share her revelation with her allies before she suddenly realized that the world had changed. Gone were the giant stone pillars, the black ceiling, and her team for the matter. She now stood in a town- the diameter of the sun, the unique taste of air, and the emerald grass telling her that she was on Earth- before a two-story wooden plank house…which was on fire.
In fact, every structure around her burned hellishly, from what resembled an early Twentieth Century schoolhouse to other houses, several stores and a church. The initial rose fragrance that had delightfully overwhelmed her nostrils upon arrival was now distorted by the weighty odor of blazing wood and thick smoke.
“Sizzling Starbursts…” Gale gasped, taking in the demonic landscape that now surrounded her. “Where in the universe am I?!”
Just as she was about to call out her teammates’ names, a group of Caucasian Earthmen suddenly appeared from behind one of the burning buildings. They numbered over four dozen, each armed with primitive Twentieth Century shotguns. In fact, it was if these beings had magically strolled from a history disc of the 1920s, sporting such period items as newsboy caps, sport jackets, and long shaggy beards.
“Hey! There’s one of ‘em!” one of the men shouted in a thick Appalachian twang, leveling his weapon at the Venusian Gunslinger.
Although confused, Gale’s survival instincts were not inert. Her hands were at her thighs, twitching fingers flashing towards her raygun handles. However, she grasped air. The golden blonde looked down in horror to find that her precious weapons, as well as their thigh holsters, were missing!
“Halt! Who are yo-” she managed to cry before the rest of her words died in the thunder of a shotgun blast.
A flash of hellfire nicked her arm, the resulting pain and force sending her sprawling to the ground. She was up on quivering legs before her mind realized it, cradling her right arm with her left hand, the stark red blood from her wound trickling through her fingers. With no plan in mind, she ran blind, erratically, praying that her haphazard course would provide some protection from the subsequent volley of bullets. She did not look back, her ears supplying more than enough information about her assailants.
“Look at ‘er run!” one voice screamed with a war whoop. “They know they can sure run!”
“Get after her!” another cried.
The bullets-slower than laser rays but no less deadly- chewed at the roses and grass as Gale raced through the burning town, desperately searching for shelter. Besides the crazed gunmen hunting her, the tolling church bells were throwing off her concentration-
“That’s it!” she whispered hopefully. “There must be a church still standing! Bells can’t ring in a burning church, can they?”
Praying that her limited knowledge of Earth American history was not off, the Venusian nymph dashed forward, frantically searching for what seemed to be a proverbial needle in a haystack. Thankfully, a few minutes into her hunt yielded a much needed result. At the edge of town she found a small church, untouched by the omnipresent flames, with bells clanging mournfully in its steeple. She seized the opportunity for safe haven without hesitation, racing into the deserted sanctuary and propping one of the loosen pews against its double doors. Then, taking a deep breath, she regained a measure of cool, sitting on another pew and inspecting her wound. All she could determine was that something had burrowed into her arm like some fantastic creature; yet, without any medical knowledge, and more importantly historical knowledge, there was nothing she could do to heal herself.
Her mind continued to draw a blank on how she had arrived in such a bizarre strait. How did she get from the mountain to early Twentieth Century Earth in the first place? Had Nagana been hiding amongst the columns, weaving a magic spell? How would she be able to return to her own time?
Her sparkling azure eyes drifted from the empty pulpit and equally deserted choir area to a stained glass window displaying the Earth Christian cross. What was this place? Why were the men after her? Why was the town on fire?
The stained glass window suddenly shattered, ending her inquiry-filled reverie. Sun-baked masculine faces peered in, followed by the long cold barrels of their shotguns. With murderous leers, they filed in, one by one, crushing the glass to power underfoot as they surrounded their wounded blonde prize. Initially aiming their deadly weapons at her, they all quickly abandoned them in unnatural unison and began to grab at the poor woman with clammy hands.
At the outset indomitable, Gale’s façade crumbled in the face of sheer helplessness. She began to scream in terror, hurling insults and cries of revenge…
…and Moon Girl heard them, but could not yet reach her leader. Her lithe body was being held in a full nelson by a hirsute brute of enormous stature, a great ape, one of a band of brown gorillas that had ambushed them. Somehow, the giant primate was able to function without environmental protection (despite the gravity, the hardlight suits detected no functioning atmosphere), although the Moonstone told her that it was because of magic. As much as she struggled, her immense strength seemed to be no match for the beast, who easily kept her docile in its wrestling hold.
Meanwhile, her teammates had collapsed into hysteria, each trapped in a mental delusion of some kind. The gorillas assaulting them seemed to be a part of the delirium. For example, Gale kicked furiously when one of the apes took a hold of her legs, while Amazona swatted blindly at the trio encircling her, temporarily holding them at bay. Their hardlight suits had been mysteriously drained as well, leaving them defenseless against the assault.
“So…it seems that Samarkand’s precious heirloom kept you from experiencing the Rite of Initiation.” A silky female voice boomed, seemingly coming from the gorilla that held Moon Girl.
“Nagana?” Moon Girl half declared, half-asked.
“January 1, 1923.” The voice continued. “Our savior was born when the town of Caesar fell. His blood is that of the men and women slain on that terrible day. His voice is that of the innocents who cried to the heavens, wondering why…why was hatred visited on their town? His muscles are that of the blacksmith Samuel Williams, who was tortured into admitting to a false crime. And his courage…his courage is that of Sylvester Carter…the unconquerable man! That is what your friends are seeing…Caesar’s final day. That is our Rite of Initiation-”
All in a sudden, the Lovely Daughter of Luna swooned, falling limp within the gorilla’s hold. Confused, the great ape slowly eased her flaccid body to the ground. Yet, as soon as her feet touched down, Moon Girl pushed backward with all of her strength, embedding her adversary into a column in a thunderous explosion of dust. The other gorillas stopped harassing their targets and glanced at her in humanlike astonishment, their muzzles agape. Then, pounding their chests and roaring, one from each cluster charged at the curvy Sentinel.
Moving with literal lightning speed, Moon Girl waylaid one hairy brute with a resounding right haymaker, sending him spinning like a wild rocket for a considerable distance. Another received a roundhouse kick in the belly (sending an unexpected blast of potent halitosis up the Princess’s nose) before being kayoed with a beautiful spin kick. The last was dispatched with simple judo; a flip over the shoulder disoriented him, while a follow-up chop to the neck sent him on the dreamland express.
“Gor!” Nagana’s voice thundered, all-pervading. “Dispatch this wayward girl!”
The legendary Gorilla King’s appearance, spiked collar and all, was an expert exercise in shock and awe. Having ignored her enemy’s declaration, Moon Girl blindly charged towards her friends, only to run headlong into a golden brown stomach of seeming organic steel. Gor dwarfed the apes under his command with ease, standing at least a fourth of a story tall, with bulging, very visible muscles as big as cannonballs. He stared down at the fallen heroine with golden eyes radiating madness, gnashing sharp teeth the size of broadswords.
Love and camaraderie spurred Moon Girl onward against the jungle leviathan, unleashing a fury of middle and high spin kicks on him. However, Gor caught her foot with ease, and in one fluid motion, swatted her against the ground like an angry child with a toy. Then, refusing to let the battered Girl of Moonlight regain her bearings, the gargantuan ape took the Sentinel up into a massive bearhug and squeezed the life out of her. With all of the willpower at her command, Moon Girl furiously hammered at the beast’s face, arms, and shoulders, but to no avail. She could not help but whimper as her ribs protested in agony, and air became trapped in her lungs. The monstrous profile of the creature before her began to waver and dance. Soon, her blows weakened, and before long her arms dangled uselessly at her sides. Her body surrendered before her mind could. Before the darkness of unconsciousness crept over her, she witnessed a triumphant sneer from the King of the Gorillas.
Impassively swinging his defeated prey over his huge shoulder, Gor roared a thunderous command for his troops to assemble. Grunting vigorously, his beastly subordinates obeyed, a horde each gingerly carrying the slumbering form of a subdued galactic beauty in a makeshift cradle of muscular hairy arms. Leading his army, the Gorilla King shuffled forward proudly on giant knuckles – an easy contender for the crown of the jungle - and vanished amongst the gigantic pillars as wraithlike as he and his legions appeared.
Last edited by The UG 8 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
The Emperor In The Mountain:
Goddess of The Space Cannibals!
By M. Hadley
Drums underscored her reawakening, throaty, floor-trembling drums that oozed a contagious, rhythmic beat. Ironically, when Gale’s feet did not instinctively move to the cadence, she realized that something was horribly wrong. Her azure eyes snapped open into a gigantic hallway, crudely carved out of black rock with throbbing veins of flowing magma, in backward motion. She was moving forward…but not on her own accord. Her unnerved gaze fell upon her right foot, now bare, as it stepped forward mechanically, quickly followed by her left in a seductive sashay. Goosebumps arose from air teasing naked flesh; although she could feel that her arms, torso, and legs were bare, she could not move her head to see in what capacity. Only her eyes were under her mental command, and they saw a muscular white-skinned back of the person before her.
Chanting came to Gale’s senses once she conceded to the maddening situation at hand. It was all around her, infectious, merging with the drums in rough but wonderful harmony. It radiated loudest from the man leading her, who danced vigorously and provided the accompaniment of a pair of colorful primitive-looking rattles to the musical concoction.
“Xhango! Bumaye! Xhango! Bumaye!”
So suddenly caught up in the festive atmosphere was the Venusian that she did not immediately realize she had stopped walking. Before them was a pair of enormous doors, only slightly smaller than those entered by the Sentinels via the Atoma-controlled sphere. However, these doors were colored black, trimmed in red and green, and decorated with a huge golden raised impression of the Earth continent of Africa. With a deafening gong, the impression was split down the middle as the doors dramatically swung open…and Gale’s breath was snatched away.
The chamber beyond could not be measured visually by the space heroine. Also hewed out of the magma-veined rock, it seemed to stretch for miles before them, distance that seemed impossible even for a mountain to possess. The ocean of white-skinned humans that greeted them was just as uncountable, all naked save for scanty loincloths in the colors of red, green, and black. Some wore what Gale barely recognized as primitive African tribal jewelry, such as gold neck rings, earrings, bracelets and anklets. But all, including the man that led her, wore featureless black masks with only what appeared to be exaggerated red human lips twisted in haunting toothy grins. Their ranks went beyond human; sprinkled among the legions were various animals of the Terran jungle, such as assorted primates, predatory cats, massive elephants, colorful birds, and even tiny insects. There were also dinosaurs from almost every conceivable prehistoric period, ranging from small, feathery velociraptors to a gigantic (and dangerously clumsy) brachiosaurus.
In the myriad of ways across species, they danced and chanted around a massive circular stone dais raised several kilometers above the floor. On the dais loomed a gigantic golden statue - or at least, the upper part of said statue – of a beautiful, well-endowed nude woman with lengthy braided hair and an exquisite tiara on her forehead. She clutched both massive hands to an equally giant stomach that indicated impending motherhood.
“Xhango! Bumaye! Xhango! Bumaye!”
The chanting and drumming grew softer as the massive crowd parted, creating a living passageway directly to the stairs of the dais. Reminded of an archaic religious anecdote involving red seas, Gale found herself taking a step forward against her will, maintaining a conceited, erotic gait behind her seeming guide. Many times, out of the corners of her eyes, she caught the spectators bowing deeply to her. Did they know that she was a descendent of King Rogert, the first human settler of Venus…and thus royalty? She was never one to indulge in ancestral privilege, believing her accomplishments as an agent of universal law more than enough to cement her own iconic status.
As she involuntarily ascended the stairs and stepped onto the dais, the golden blonde began to notice an even more peculiar aspect of the massive statue. Now standing a mere few feet from its gigantic belly, she could see that its color was not solid at all, but slightly transparent, like a concave veil of shimmering gold. Inside was a murky circular chamber with a giant round table in its exact center, covered with flashing blue dials and miniature tesla coils.
At the table sat a human shape on a giant skull-shaped throne of obsidian, more rags and shadow than man.
Gale’s horrified eyes could only make out emaciated hands, devoid of color and human form, displaying predatory talons where fingernails should have been. The most noticeable characteristics of the creature were a long flowing white beard, which had literally grown into the table itself, and dusty golden manacles with broken chains around withered wrists…both testament of a great passage of time. Its body was connected to the walls by numerous dust-caked power cords, resembling something trapped in a gigantic spider’s web. The chamber’s floor and walls were covered with yellowed Twentieth Century newspaper articles that formed an ad hoc biography out of screaming bold print. Gale’s attention was quickly drawn to three headlines: NEGROS DRIVEN AWAY FROM CAESAR (1923), HITLER STYMIED BY MYSTERIOUS JUNGLE GOD IN AFRICAN THEATRE (1943), and MISS MASQUE PREVENTS NEW YORK ATTACK BY NEGRO ARCHVILLAIN (1949).
Suddenly, she cried out as both of her knees dropped hard to the ground while her hands clasped together in the position of prayer.
Wait a minute…cried out?
“I…I can talk again!” she gasped, clinching her facial muscles over and over.
“Gale! What in the galaxy is going on?!”
The Shrouded Planet Spacewoman turned to the left (learning that the extent of her control was only for her head) to discover the raven-haired Amazona on her knees right next to her in the same position , her left hand having been bandaged with care. To her right was Tara, and directly behind her (as only she could determine out of the corner of her eye) was Moon Girl. Gone were their unique adventuring uniforms. Instead, they were garbed in gold metal bikini bras (humorously reminding Gale of bird cages) and matching bejeweled g-strings that left little to the imagination. Their feet were also bare, and they wore coordinating tiaras, bracelets, anklets and armlets of glitzy gold. A monotonous humming could be heard from the skimpy articles of clothing as a visual arc of golden lightning surged through them, no doubt the source of the bizarre body manipulation.
“Is everyone alright?” Gale asked, glancing from one horrified face to the other. Tara’s visage was an especially disheartening sight; her cerulean eyes sparkled with tears, while she puffed her cheeks rapidly.
“Savages…I wish I could slaughter them all…” she whispered in barely contained rage. “Where is that witch…I want to rip her heart out with my bare hands!”
“Tara…” Gale began a reassurance, but changed her mind. “Ummmm…almost a turn-on to hear you talk like that…”
“Levity? At a time like this?!” the space buccaneer hissed, narrowing her eyes at the Venusian woman.
“By Mercury…there it is!” Moon Girl wailed from behind Gale, hyperventilating. “That…that statue! That’s the machine I saw in my Moonstone’s visions…the one that my…my ancestor…my gods…where is my Moonstone?! Where are my clothes…has my maidenhead been taken-”
“Calm down, honey.” Amazona turned to her and flashed a self-assured grin. It quickly vanished when she noticed the cut on the Lunar Lady’s lower lip.
“Who did that to you?!” the Mighty Woman snarled, her beautiful face twisted in wrath.
“It…it was Gor…a giant gorilla.” The Girl of Moonlight bowed her head shamefully. “He was the leader of the primate army that attacked us-”
“Primate army?!” Gale raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember being in Planet of the Apes. The ‘monkeys’ that attacked me were human, Twentieth Century.”
“Same here.” Amazona chimed in. “I was back on Earth, but the time was different…the town was old…not like old in age, but ancient by our standards. Like Gale said, Twentieth Century.”
“She called it the ‘Rite of Initiation’…” Moon Girl said, trying to gain a measure of stoicism. “Something about 19-something or other. She said my Moonstone protected me from the mental attack you all experienced.”
“Except that it’s not some attack.” Tara told them apprehensively. “That date and time is very significant to them…to him. Every one of these freaks had that experience when they came here…some kind of twisted baptism.”
“He’s in there, you know.” Gale nodded timidly towards the giant statue’s stomach. “Just a shriveled bag of rags and bones. How do you suppose they’re going to return him to life? And what happened to that Fantomah girl?”
The Pirate Queen only shrugged feebly, and glared up at the golden statue’s massive countenance. Meanwhile, as a powerless Amazona looked on, Moon Girl devolved into hysteria.
“Shut up!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I can’t take that infernal chanting any longer! Shut up!”
Suddenly, the boisterous chanting and drumming ceased. From out of the silent blackface hordes came three monstrous animals, ascending the stairs to the dais in single file and menacingly circling the kneeling, paralyzed Sentinels. One, the hirsute behemoth Gor, was an already familiar nightmare to the space warriors. The second was an equally immense serpent with glistening emerald scales and a strange veil failing to hide its sword-like fangs. The third animal – a coal black lion with a flowing mane of stringy shadow- snapped tauntingly at its nubile prey.
The golden lightning suddenly vanished from the garments, returning complete muscle control to the heroines. Rising to their feet as one, the Sentinels instinctively took up protective positions back to back, shuffling the powerless (though embarrassed) Moon Girl to the center of their defensive formation. Amazona faced off against the Gorilla King, biting her lower lip in anticipation, while Tara grinned cruelly at the demonic serpent wearing the veil. Gale, along with Moon Girl over her shoulder, glared defiantly at the black lion, which licked its chops hungrily.
“Is this part of the ritual, pirate?” the golden blonde exhaled every word slowly, shakily maintaining eye contact with the animal.
“Don’t know….” Tara said, narrowing her eyes as the serpentine arrowhead face looming over her. “Gor’s buddies are Koroo the Black Lion and Shanri the Serpent Queen…all part of Nagana’s ‘inner circle’…”
Despite her grim countenance, a hearty chuckle escaped Amazona’s lips. “First name basis, eh?”
“We’ve had quite the get-togethers…” the Pirate Queen smirked. “Always left the Brotherhood holding the check though …”
“‘Shanri the Serpent Queen’?” Moon Girl suppressed a giggle. “Who names their pet ‘Serpent Queen’…let alone ‘Shanri’-”
The giant snake suddenly shifted its focus to the Girl of Moonlight, switching position with the lion and warningly hissing at Gale and her.
“Er…you all might want to keep the casual dialogue to a minimum, huh?” the Venusian Gunslinger gulped audibly. “Save the witty banter until after we get past the cast of The Jungle Book.”
“The spoiled princess is right.” Tara sighed. “Without our weapons and trapped in this tasteless attire, we only have our cunning to use against the beasts-”
“Yeah, let’s verbalize that.” Amazona snapped. “Tell them your master plan, because heaven knows they can’t understand you.”
“I’m staring down the king of the jungle here!” Tara retorted. “I don’t need lip from some ice floe hick!”
“Hey! You take that back!” Moon Girl squealed, turning to confront the platinum blonde. Of course, the space swashbuckler was unable to break her gaze with the ravenous eyes of the black lion.
“Sentinels, focus!” Gale shouted, startling even the animals that encircled them. Still staring down the snake, she was tugging furiously at the clamps of her metal bra and then her g-string, but to no avail. The scanty garments would not budge. A few seconds later, she was punished with a powerful blast of golden electricity that surged through her entire body, causing her to scream resoundingly. She fell to the ground in the throes of seizure, her shapely limbs contorting about at sporadic angles while her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
Moon Girl dropped to her knees and cradled Gale’s head in her lap, her own fearful wail submerged by the rousing cheers of the watching multitude. The golden blonde could do nothing but caress her younger subordinate’s face with a weak hand, breathing rapidly as she tried to regain her strength. Instinctively, Amazona and Tara took a few steps backward, tightening the perimeter as they continued the standoff with the circling creatures. The Mighty Woman’s sleek muscular form took on a wrestler’s crouch, a human lioness coiled to pounce. However, she could sense that her wondrous physical attributes were stymied by the golden garments, and she now operated at only peak human capacity. Tara, on the other hand, fought against a vengeful fury that could only be described as animalistic; her fists trembled as she fell into a “Front Stance”, an unarmed combat posture drilled into her by the Brotherhood of Space and her old friend Robin.
Robin and Malo, her shipmates on their rocketship, the Space Rover. Haneesh and the Brotherhood of Space, who took them in when the universe declared them criminals. All friends, all family, all destroyed – devoured - by the despicable galactic host known as Pax Xhangona.
Blinded by crimson wrath, the anguished Pirate Queen shattered the face-off, charging towards the massive Gor with an exasperated growl and cocked fist. She just had to hurt something, had to inflict the same heart-wrenching agony that was now horrifyingly familiar to her. The great ape welcomed the thrown down gauntlet with an almost too-human grin on his hairy face. He pounded his gargantuan chest with equally enormous fists, each impact a crack of thunder, and then slammed them down in the approaching path of the charging beauty. The resulting earth shivering blow and massive wind sent the poor woman tumbling end over end until she almost plunged over the edge of the dais. With a limp arm and leg dangling precariously over the edge, she lay unmoving.
“Tara!” Gale croaked and Amazona screamed, both waiting with bated breath for some type of reply. They gained one seconds later, although their hearts sunk all the same. Tara clawed her way from the edge and sat up, drawing her skinned knees under her chin and sobbing distressingly. Meanwhile, as if beholding a winning sports maneuver, the hordes went wild, the humans returning to their old standby of “Xhango! Bumaye!”
But the Gorilla King was not finished. With a mighty leap, he easily crossed the dais from one end to the other, landing before the platinum blonde with the deafening might of a giant meteor. Moving with dazzling speed belying his colossal frame, he snatched Tara up in a giant hand before she could react and squeezed. The star pirate’s resulting shriek was agonizing to her teammates but invigorating to the black-faced legions who cheered on their primate champion.
“Get your dirty paws off of her!” Amazona cried, racing towards the ape and his blonde prize. She did not get far; a large emerald blur slithered into her path and lashed at her with its scaly tail, sending her stumbling back a few steps.
“Get out of my way, you cold-blooded monster!” the Mighty Woman growled at Shanri through clenched teeth, flinching as the Pirate Queen screamed once again. In the meantime, Gale fought desperately to stand to her feet, assisted by Moon Girl. The two Sentinels glanced helplessly at each other, knowing that without their weapons or magical talisman they stood no chance against the jungle titans. And what if the apparel they were wearing paralyzed them once again? They would be totally helpless against these creatures, the very epitomes of nature’s savagery and inequality.
A throaty growl from behind reminded them of their third opponent. A shared apprehensive glance behind rewarded them with a raucous roar from Koroo.
“Nice Leo…” Gale whispered, turning and backing away timidly. “We’ll do whatever you want…just leave our friends alone…”
“Tara’s your friend?” Moon Girl gave her leader a confused look while mirroring her.
“What did I say about witty banter?” the golden blonde fussed out of the corner of her mouth.
Suddenly, the black jungle cat halted in midstride and dramatically lifted its huge head to the heavens. This action was shared by not only the giant serpent and the great ape, but the black faced masses as well, who all moved in an eerie mechanical unison. A potent silence abruptly conquered the enormous chamber, providing a vehicle for the cause: words wrapped in the audible honey of a sultry female voice thought long dead. A song descended from above, and on its heels, its spotlighted singer – the silvery woman (or Viragon, as Amazona called it) that had attacked Vanam earlier. Its downward flight controlled by jets on its skeletal feet and upper back, the inhuman thing would have been a dead ringer for the song’s original vocalist if it not for the vacant blue eyes, long blue fiber optic curls and reflective skin. A sheer silver full-length evening dress - with a very pronounced opened back and glistening rhinestones – clung tenaciously to its shapely frame, accessorized by chandelier-like diamond earrings and iron manacles and shackles with broken chains.
In the perfect vocal imitation of Marilyn Monroe, it sang (to the tune of Happy Birthday to You):
“Happy Rebirth to You,
Happy Rebirth to You…
Happy Rebirth, Daddy…
Happy Rebirth to You.”
As it landed elegantly on the dais, it continued into a second verse (to the tune of Thanks for the Memory):
“Thanks…Daddy,
For all the things you’ve done,
The battles that you’ve won!
The way you deal with the White Hunter’s zeal,
And our problems by the ton,
We thank you so much!!”
Being the first to recover from her bewilderment, Gale’s hands subconsciously reached towards her upper thighs and grasped nothing. The Corman Rayguns had become her phantom limbs, and by extension a barometer of her rage. All she could think about at that very moment was the destruction wrought in Vanam, the razing of her acclaimed ancestor’s memorial, and the thousands of Venusian lives lost in the attack.
“So much for steel Battalion cool…” she reprimanded herself quietly. It seemed that her old nemesis wasn’t the only one failing to keep her emotions in check.
She would have physically attacked the metal monster if not for the golden lightning resurging through the bra and g-string, stealing control of her body once again. Moving in a jerking robotic manner, the horrified space gunslinger joined her assembled teammates in a semicircle directly behind the singing Viragon (now firmly entrenched in I Wanna Be Loved By You), all standing formally with hands clasped at their stomachs. Meanwhile, the animals stood in a ceremonial line with the silvery being in the center, staring out at the silent audience.
A second gong echoed in the gargantuan cavern. The giant doors swung open slowly, but the crowd did not part. A gorgeous woman entered astride a large tawny saber-toothed tiger that floated above the masses. Her liquid black tresses clashed softly with her alabaster skin, while her striking features were heightened by a tiara shaped like a golden bird frozen in flight. Her svelte form was clothed only in a golden bullet bra and a regal red, green, and black ankle-length loincloth adjoined to a gossamer-like dress. Only her eyes revealed her inhumanity, being so white as to appear pupiless. Accompanying her on the feline steed was another epitome of loveliness, a young woman with a gold crown adorning her shoulder-length flaxen curls. She was dressed in a low-cut, form-clinging pink translucent dress with clear platform sandals and no undergarments- accounting for protective arms across her breasts and a shameful downward gaze- a compulsory Lady Godiva. A strange black choker around her neck was connected to a chain of shadow within the other woman’s tight grasp. Drifting silently behind them was the winged glass coffin in which the statuesque ivory-haired Fantomah rested peacefully – a seeming refugee from a romantic fairy tale.
If Gale had control of her facial muscles, her mouth would have dropped from recognition. The crowned woman in pink was constant fodder for the galactic tabloids, but her incorruptibility and excellent leadership skills had earned the respect of most of the universe. She was Delecta, the so-called “Queen of the Planets”…ruler of the seven-world Kaplan system that was as close as one could consider the frontier of known space. The people there even maintained their own language, stubbornly refusing the blanket adoption of Trans-Cosmos like other major space civilizations.
The strange procession rode upon a wave of prostration, as each floated over line of minions (along with the multitude of creatures great and small) collapsed to their knees, audibly smacked their masked heads against the hard ground and froze in position. At this the raven-tressed woman laughed conceitedly while Delecta alternated between strings of harsh Kaplanese words and sobbing piteously. As the floating party drew closer to the dais, other details gained sharper focus, serving to enhance the march’s peculiarity. A swarm of glowing emerald eyes orbited the two women, although only the brunette seemed to enjoy their company. She was talking to them, even nonchalantly reclining on the lap of the visibly disturbed young ruler while propping up her bare feet on the sabertooth’s head as she did so. Delecta herself had been heavily made-up in addition to her revealing attire, no doubt a bid to corrupt her wholesome image. Yet, the thick vampy eye shadow ran and the ruby lipstick smeared, as if the monarch had subconsciously fought to preserve her purity.
“Yes, I guess you can say she looks like the true ‘Whore of Babylon’.” The brunette said to the emerald eyes while grinning sardonically at the distressed maiden. “I was thinking along the lines of something less abstract…like Aphrodite, perhaps…she was quite the little trollop. Yes, of course I knew her personally!”
Taking an action that could be interpreted in any language, the Queen of the Planets angrily spat on her tormentor. However, the phlegm-enhanced spittle evaporated into golden mist before it touched the other woman’s face.
“I agree my sovereign…that was not very regal.” The brunette slowly sat up and chuckled spitefully, gently caressing the shadow chain with her thumb. Now a mere few feet away, the Sentinels could see the horrifying truth of the ornament around the beautiful Delecta’s neck. It was a shiny living thing, pulsating like a black heart muscle and ringed with what resembled long jagged teeth on both the upper and lower parts. As the brunette stroked the chain, the choker constricted violently. The teeth bloodlessly sunk into the galactic queen’s neck, resembling a lipless mouth taking a ravenous bite. The flaxen-haired maiden’s lips parted in an O, although her scream was silent. With mascara-tinged tears streaking down her cheeks, she clutched weakly at her throat and nearly fell off of the sabertooth before the indifferent brunette caught her around the waist.
“How many times must I hit you on the nose before you’re housebroken?” she sneered, taking pleasure in the stark helplessness in Delecta’s silver eyes.
Meanwhile, while the Viragon continued to serenade the progressively prostrating audience with Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend, the black lion broke rank and circled behind the paralyzed Sentinels. Unable to even tremble in terror, the frozen space warriors could do nothing but wait for the violent inevitable. However, at least for Amazona, a random thought brought a sliver of humor to the situation. She was reminded of the tales of ancient Roman gladiators who would battle lions before spectators demanding blood. At least the gladiators had a fighting chance and maybe some audience members that supported them. Here, the odds were purposely heaped against them as they were the unconditional enemy of the cult. Mercy was not just a luxury here…it was an undeniable myth.
Powerless to visually follow the lion’s path only heightened the tension. They could hear each tiny pat-pat of his massive paws on the dais, followed by taunting scrapes of his dagger-like claws. They could feel the soft midnight fur and steely sinews of the killing machine as he gracefully weaved his way around each of them, sizing them up. It was obvious that the creature was relishing the overwhelming apprehension of his stationary prey. He gave a few low rumbling growls for good measure, just to nudge the living statues over the edge. The poor queens of the impossible could only respond with tearful eyes widened in stark fear.
But then, something seized Tara’s attention, and then Gale’s. A few seconds later, Moon Girl’s jade eyes followed theirs and Amazona was the last to gain realization. The floating procession was almost to the dais, and nearly every row in the chamber was prostrating as a result. Yet, a few lines behind them stood a solitary masked female, who suddenly raced forward and stomped with both feet onto the lowered head of the brachiosaurus. Screeching shrilly, the long necked giant’s head, along with the masked cult member, instantly shot towards the ceiling like a cannon. Leaping off before the creature’s neck reached its apex, the woman gracefully glided through the air, arcing towards the floating sabertooth and its unsuspecting riders.
In the midst of her controlled fall a spectacular transformation unfolded. Her mask and loincloth, as well as her very skin began to slowly melt away in a spray of shimmering sparkles, gradually replaced by skin of a rich mahogany hue festooned with vibrant tattoos. The most prominent amongst them was a large profile of the African-American Civil Rights visionary (and galactic legend) Martin Luther King Jr, immortalized on the right side of her near naked torso. The homage was continued with the title of his greatest speech, “I Have A Dream”, inscribed vertically on the length of her entire left arm in white letters trimmed in blood red. A traditional black and white Zulu shield was tattooed on her left calf while the Zodiac symbol of Leo (in blue) was on her right shoulder. On her dark-skinned upper back was only the black outline of another piece of art…a lion, with blood dripping from its jaws, gnawing on the Earth.
Golden hair, with prominent purple streaks, burst forth in a curly afro that resembled an unruly lion’s mane. A green headband, with two tiny curved horns, tried in vain to tame the beautiful mess, however. A light green bra and briefs clung to and accentuated a supple gymnast frame; the simple outfit was accompanied by brown armlets, glistening golden anklets connected by chains to toe rings on slender bare feet, and a necklace of lion’s teeth with a hexagon medallion as its centerpiece. As the gorgeous stranger aerially closed in on her targets, she drew from behind her back a glowing curved red knife in each hand, resembling claws of jagged flame, with single serrated edges.
At the same time, the black lion, who had been stalking the Sentinels, suddenly turned and pounced on the singing Viragon, viciously catching its head within its deadly jaws. Caught by surprise, Gor and Shanri stared at the scene with a shared all-too human look of confusion. Meanwhile, while the galactic champions experienced unadulterated elation for the sudden intruder, it was the Mighty Woman who was the most excited. The newcomer was a childhood friend, one of the rare visitors to her people’s Arctic habitat…and ironically the first “person of color” she had ever met. While the contact between them had been sporadic over the years, their deep friendship still persevered. However, because of the limited correspondence, she did not know how far her old friend had progressed as a candidate for the Lion Man Dynasty, defending the jungles of Africa from the tyranny of evil.
Now, watching as the new Lion Woman descended on the floating prehistoric feline and its passengers, she mentally cheered in admiration.
Goddess of The Space Cannibals!
By M. Hadley
Drums underscored her reawakening, throaty, floor-trembling drums that oozed a contagious, rhythmic beat. Ironically, when Gale’s feet did not instinctively move to the cadence, she realized that something was horribly wrong. Her azure eyes snapped open into a gigantic hallway, crudely carved out of black rock with throbbing veins of flowing magma, in backward motion. She was moving forward…but not on her own accord. Her unnerved gaze fell upon her right foot, now bare, as it stepped forward mechanically, quickly followed by her left in a seductive sashay. Goosebumps arose from air teasing naked flesh; although she could feel that her arms, torso, and legs were bare, she could not move her head to see in what capacity. Only her eyes were under her mental command, and they saw a muscular white-skinned back of the person before her.
Chanting came to Gale’s senses once she conceded to the maddening situation at hand. It was all around her, infectious, merging with the drums in rough but wonderful harmony. It radiated loudest from the man leading her, who danced vigorously and provided the accompaniment of a pair of colorful primitive-looking rattles to the musical concoction.
“Xhango! Bumaye! Xhango! Bumaye!”
So suddenly caught up in the festive atmosphere was the Venusian that she did not immediately realize she had stopped walking. Before them was a pair of enormous doors, only slightly smaller than those entered by the Sentinels via the Atoma-controlled sphere. However, these doors were colored black, trimmed in red and green, and decorated with a huge golden raised impression of the Earth continent of Africa. With a deafening gong, the impression was split down the middle as the doors dramatically swung open…and Gale’s breath was snatched away.
The chamber beyond could not be measured visually by the space heroine. Also hewed out of the magma-veined rock, it seemed to stretch for miles before them, distance that seemed impossible even for a mountain to possess. The ocean of white-skinned humans that greeted them was just as uncountable, all naked save for scanty loincloths in the colors of red, green, and black. Some wore what Gale barely recognized as primitive African tribal jewelry, such as gold neck rings, earrings, bracelets and anklets. But all, including the man that led her, wore featureless black masks with only what appeared to be exaggerated red human lips twisted in haunting toothy grins. Their ranks went beyond human; sprinkled among the legions were various animals of the Terran jungle, such as assorted primates, predatory cats, massive elephants, colorful birds, and even tiny insects. There were also dinosaurs from almost every conceivable prehistoric period, ranging from small, feathery velociraptors to a gigantic (and dangerously clumsy) brachiosaurus.
In the myriad of ways across species, they danced and chanted around a massive circular stone dais raised several kilometers above the floor. On the dais loomed a gigantic golden statue - or at least, the upper part of said statue – of a beautiful, well-endowed nude woman with lengthy braided hair and an exquisite tiara on her forehead. She clutched both massive hands to an equally giant stomach that indicated impending motherhood.
“Xhango! Bumaye! Xhango! Bumaye!”
The chanting and drumming grew softer as the massive crowd parted, creating a living passageway directly to the stairs of the dais. Reminded of an archaic religious anecdote involving red seas, Gale found herself taking a step forward against her will, maintaining a conceited, erotic gait behind her seeming guide. Many times, out of the corners of her eyes, she caught the spectators bowing deeply to her. Did they know that she was a descendent of King Rogert, the first human settler of Venus…and thus royalty? She was never one to indulge in ancestral privilege, believing her accomplishments as an agent of universal law more than enough to cement her own iconic status.
As she involuntarily ascended the stairs and stepped onto the dais, the golden blonde began to notice an even more peculiar aspect of the massive statue. Now standing a mere few feet from its gigantic belly, she could see that its color was not solid at all, but slightly transparent, like a concave veil of shimmering gold. Inside was a murky circular chamber with a giant round table in its exact center, covered with flashing blue dials and miniature tesla coils.
At the table sat a human shape on a giant skull-shaped throne of obsidian, more rags and shadow than man.
Gale’s horrified eyes could only make out emaciated hands, devoid of color and human form, displaying predatory talons where fingernails should have been. The most noticeable characteristics of the creature were a long flowing white beard, which had literally grown into the table itself, and dusty golden manacles with broken chains around withered wrists…both testament of a great passage of time. Its body was connected to the walls by numerous dust-caked power cords, resembling something trapped in a gigantic spider’s web. The chamber’s floor and walls were covered with yellowed Twentieth Century newspaper articles that formed an ad hoc biography out of screaming bold print. Gale’s attention was quickly drawn to three headlines: NEGROS DRIVEN AWAY FROM CAESAR (1923), HITLER STYMIED BY MYSTERIOUS JUNGLE GOD IN AFRICAN THEATRE (1943), and MISS MASQUE PREVENTS NEW YORK ATTACK BY NEGRO ARCHVILLAIN (1949).
Suddenly, she cried out as both of her knees dropped hard to the ground while her hands clasped together in the position of prayer.
Wait a minute…cried out?
“I…I can talk again!” she gasped, clinching her facial muscles over and over.
“Gale! What in the galaxy is going on?!”
The Shrouded Planet Spacewoman turned to the left (learning that the extent of her control was only for her head) to discover the raven-haired Amazona on her knees right next to her in the same position , her left hand having been bandaged with care. To her right was Tara, and directly behind her (as only she could determine out of the corner of her eye) was Moon Girl. Gone were their unique adventuring uniforms. Instead, they were garbed in gold metal bikini bras (humorously reminding Gale of bird cages) and matching bejeweled g-strings that left little to the imagination. Their feet were also bare, and they wore coordinating tiaras, bracelets, anklets and armlets of glitzy gold. A monotonous humming could be heard from the skimpy articles of clothing as a visual arc of golden lightning surged through them, no doubt the source of the bizarre body manipulation.
“Is everyone alright?” Gale asked, glancing from one horrified face to the other. Tara’s visage was an especially disheartening sight; her cerulean eyes sparkled with tears, while she puffed her cheeks rapidly.
“Savages…I wish I could slaughter them all…” she whispered in barely contained rage. “Where is that witch…I want to rip her heart out with my bare hands!”
“Tara…” Gale began a reassurance, but changed her mind. “Ummmm…almost a turn-on to hear you talk like that…”
“Levity? At a time like this?!” the space buccaneer hissed, narrowing her eyes at the Venusian woman.
“By Mercury…there it is!” Moon Girl wailed from behind Gale, hyperventilating. “That…that statue! That’s the machine I saw in my Moonstone’s visions…the one that my…my ancestor…my gods…where is my Moonstone?! Where are my clothes…has my maidenhead been taken-”
“Calm down, honey.” Amazona turned to her and flashed a self-assured grin. It quickly vanished when she noticed the cut on the Lunar Lady’s lower lip.
“Who did that to you?!” the Mighty Woman snarled, her beautiful face twisted in wrath.
“It…it was Gor…a giant gorilla.” The Girl of Moonlight bowed her head shamefully. “He was the leader of the primate army that attacked us-”
“Primate army?!” Gale raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember being in Planet of the Apes. The ‘monkeys’ that attacked me were human, Twentieth Century.”
“Same here.” Amazona chimed in. “I was back on Earth, but the time was different…the town was old…not like old in age, but ancient by our standards. Like Gale said, Twentieth Century.”
“She called it the ‘Rite of Initiation’…” Moon Girl said, trying to gain a measure of stoicism. “Something about 19-something or other. She said my Moonstone protected me from the mental attack you all experienced.”
“Except that it’s not some attack.” Tara told them apprehensively. “That date and time is very significant to them…to him. Every one of these freaks had that experience when they came here…some kind of twisted baptism.”
“He’s in there, you know.” Gale nodded timidly towards the giant statue’s stomach. “Just a shriveled bag of rags and bones. How do you suppose they’re going to return him to life? And what happened to that Fantomah girl?”
The Pirate Queen only shrugged feebly, and glared up at the golden statue’s massive countenance. Meanwhile, as a powerless Amazona looked on, Moon Girl devolved into hysteria.
“Shut up!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I can’t take that infernal chanting any longer! Shut up!”
Suddenly, the boisterous chanting and drumming ceased. From out of the silent blackface hordes came three monstrous animals, ascending the stairs to the dais in single file and menacingly circling the kneeling, paralyzed Sentinels. One, the hirsute behemoth Gor, was an already familiar nightmare to the space warriors. The second was an equally immense serpent with glistening emerald scales and a strange veil failing to hide its sword-like fangs. The third animal – a coal black lion with a flowing mane of stringy shadow- snapped tauntingly at its nubile prey.
The golden lightning suddenly vanished from the garments, returning complete muscle control to the heroines. Rising to their feet as one, the Sentinels instinctively took up protective positions back to back, shuffling the powerless (though embarrassed) Moon Girl to the center of their defensive formation. Amazona faced off against the Gorilla King, biting her lower lip in anticipation, while Tara grinned cruelly at the demonic serpent wearing the veil. Gale, along with Moon Girl over her shoulder, glared defiantly at the black lion, which licked its chops hungrily.
“Is this part of the ritual, pirate?” the golden blonde exhaled every word slowly, shakily maintaining eye contact with the animal.
“Don’t know….” Tara said, narrowing her eyes as the serpentine arrowhead face looming over her. “Gor’s buddies are Koroo the Black Lion and Shanri the Serpent Queen…all part of Nagana’s ‘inner circle’…”
Despite her grim countenance, a hearty chuckle escaped Amazona’s lips. “First name basis, eh?”
“We’ve had quite the get-togethers…” the Pirate Queen smirked. “Always left the Brotherhood holding the check though …”
“‘Shanri the Serpent Queen’?” Moon Girl suppressed a giggle. “Who names their pet ‘Serpent Queen’…let alone ‘Shanri’-”
The giant snake suddenly shifted its focus to the Girl of Moonlight, switching position with the lion and warningly hissing at Gale and her.
“Er…you all might want to keep the casual dialogue to a minimum, huh?” the Venusian Gunslinger gulped audibly. “Save the witty banter until after we get past the cast of The Jungle Book.”
“The spoiled princess is right.” Tara sighed. “Without our weapons and trapped in this tasteless attire, we only have our cunning to use against the beasts-”
“Yeah, let’s verbalize that.” Amazona snapped. “Tell them your master plan, because heaven knows they can’t understand you.”
“I’m staring down the king of the jungle here!” Tara retorted. “I don’t need lip from some ice floe hick!”
“Hey! You take that back!” Moon Girl squealed, turning to confront the platinum blonde. Of course, the space swashbuckler was unable to break her gaze with the ravenous eyes of the black lion.
“Sentinels, focus!” Gale shouted, startling even the animals that encircled them. Still staring down the snake, she was tugging furiously at the clamps of her metal bra and then her g-string, but to no avail. The scanty garments would not budge. A few seconds later, she was punished with a powerful blast of golden electricity that surged through her entire body, causing her to scream resoundingly. She fell to the ground in the throes of seizure, her shapely limbs contorting about at sporadic angles while her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
Moon Girl dropped to her knees and cradled Gale’s head in her lap, her own fearful wail submerged by the rousing cheers of the watching multitude. The golden blonde could do nothing but caress her younger subordinate’s face with a weak hand, breathing rapidly as she tried to regain her strength. Instinctively, Amazona and Tara took a few steps backward, tightening the perimeter as they continued the standoff with the circling creatures. The Mighty Woman’s sleek muscular form took on a wrestler’s crouch, a human lioness coiled to pounce. However, she could sense that her wondrous physical attributes were stymied by the golden garments, and she now operated at only peak human capacity. Tara, on the other hand, fought against a vengeful fury that could only be described as animalistic; her fists trembled as she fell into a “Front Stance”, an unarmed combat posture drilled into her by the Brotherhood of Space and her old friend Robin.
Robin and Malo, her shipmates on their rocketship, the Space Rover. Haneesh and the Brotherhood of Space, who took them in when the universe declared them criminals. All friends, all family, all destroyed – devoured - by the despicable galactic host known as Pax Xhangona.
Blinded by crimson wrath, the anguished Pirate Queen shattered the face-off, charging towards the massive Gor with an exasperated growl and cocked fist. She just had to hurt something, had to inflict the same heart-wrenching agony that was now horrifyingly familiar to her. The great ape welcomed the thrown down gauntlet with an almost too-human grin on his hairy face. He pounded his gargantuan chest with equally enormous fists, each impact a crack of thunder, and then slammed them down in the approaching path of the charging beauty. The resulting earth shivering blow and massive wind sent the poor woman tumbling end over end until she almost plunged over the edge of the dais. With a limp arm and leg dangling precariously over the edge, she lay unmoving.
“Tara!” Gale croaked and Amazona screamed, both waiting with bated breath for some type of reply. They gained one seconds later, although their hearts sunk all the same. Tara clawed her way from the edge and sat up, drawing her skinned knees under her chin and sobbing distressingly. Meanwhile, as if beholding a winning sports maneuver, the hordes went wild, the humans returning to their old standby of “Xhango! Bumaye!”
But the Gorilla King was not finished. With a mighty leap, he easily crossed the dais from one end to the other, landing before the platinum blonde with the deafening might of a giant meteor. Moving with dazzling speed belying his colossal frame, he snatched Tara up in a giant hand before she could react and squeezed. The star pirate’s resulting shriek was agonizing to her teammates but invigorating to the black-faced legions who cheered on their primate champion.
“Get your dirty paws off of her!” Amazona cried, racing towards the ape and his blonde prize. She did not get far; a large emerald blur slithered into her path and lashed at her with its scaly tail, sending her stumbling back a few steps.
“Get out of my way, you cold-blooded monster!” the Mighty Woman growled at Shanri through clenched teeth, flinching as the Pirate Queen screamed once again. In the meantime, Gale fought desperately to stand to her feet, assisted by Moon Girl. The two Sentinels glanced helplessly at each other, knowing that without their weapons or magical talisman they stood no chance against the jungle titans. And what if the apparel they were wearing paralyzed them once again? They would be totally helpless against these creatures, the very epitomes of nature’s savagery and inequality.
A throaty growl from behind reminded them of their third opponent. A shared apprehensive glance behind rewarded them with a raucous roar from Koroo.
“Nice Leo…” Gale whispered, turning and backing away timidly. “We’ll do whatever you want…just leave our friends alone…”
“Tara’s your friend?” Moon Girl gave her leader a confused look while mirroring her.
“What did I say about witty banter?” the golden blonde fussed out of the corner of her mouth.
Suddenly, the black jungle cat halted in midstride and dramatically lifted its huge head to the heavens. This action was shared by not only the giant serpent and the great ape, but the black faced masses as well, who all moved in an eerie mechanical unison. A potent silence abruptly conquered the enormous chamber, providing a vehicle for the cause: words wrapped in the audible honey of a sultry female voice thought long dead. A song descended from above, and on its heels, its spotlighted singer – the silvery woman (or Viragon, as Amazona called it) that had attacked Vanam earlier. Its downward flight controlled by jets on its skeletal feet and upper back, the inhuman thing would have been a dead ringer for the song’s original vocalist if it not for the vacant blue eyes, long blue fiber optic curls and reflective skin. A sheer silver full-length evening dress - with a very pronounced opened back and glistening rhinestones – clung tenaciously to its shapely frame, accessorized by chandelier-like diamond earrings and iron manacles and shackles with broken chains.
In the perfect vocal imitation of Marilyn Monroe, it sang (to the tune of Happy Birthday to You):
“Happy Rebirth to You,
Happy Rebirth to You…
Happy Rebirth, Daddy…
Happy Rebirth to You.”
As it landed elegantly on the dais, it continued into a second verse (to the tune of Thanks for the Memory):
“Thanks…Daddy,
For all the things you’ve done,
The battles that you’ve won!
The way you deal with the White Hunter’s zeal,
And our problems by the ton,
We thank you so much!!”
Being the first to recover from her bewilderment, Gale’s hands subconsciously reached towards her upper thighs and grasped nothing. The Corman Rayguns had become her phantom limbs, and by extension a barometer of her rage. All she could think about at that very moment was the destruction wrought in Vanam, the razing of her acclaimed ancestor’s memorial, and the thousands of Venusian lives lost in the attack.
“So much for steel Battalion cool…” she reprimanded herself quietly. It seemed that her old nemesis wasn’t the only one failing to keep her emotions in check.
She would have physically attacked the metal monster if not for the golden lightning resurging through the bra and g-string, stealing control of her body once again. Moving in a jerking robotic manner, the horrified space gunslinger joined her assembled teammates in a semicircle directly behind the singing Viragon (now firmly entrenched in I Wanna Be Loved By You), all standing formally with hands clasped at their stomachs. Meanwhile, the animals stood in a ceremonial line with the silvery being in the center, staring out at the silent audience.
A second gong echoed in the gargantuan cavern. The giant doors swung open slowly, but the crowd did not part. A gorgeous woman entered astride a large tawny saber-toothed tiger that floated above the masses. Her liquid black tresses clashed softly with her alabaster skin, while her striking features were heightened by a tiara shaped like a golden bird frozen in flight. Her svelte form was clothed only in a golden bullet bra and a regal red, green, and black ankle-length loincloth adjoined to a gossamer-like dress. Only her eyes revealed her inhumanity, being so white as to appear pupiless. Accompanying her on the feline steed was another epitome of loveliness, a young woman with a gold crown adorning her shoulder-length flaxen curls. She was dressed in a low-cut, form-clinging pink translucent dress with clear platform sandals and no undergarments- accounting for protective arms across her breasts and a shameful downward gaze- a compulsory Lady Godiva. A strange black choker around her neck was connected to a chain of shadow within the other woman’s tight grasp. Drifting silently behind them was the winged glass coffin in which the statuesque ivory-haired Fantomah rested peacefully – a seeming refugee from a romantic fairy tale.
If Gale had control of her facial muscles, her mouth would have dropped from recognition. The crowned woman in pink was constant fodder for the galactic tabloids, but her incorruptibility and excellent leadership skills had earned the respect of most of the universe. She was Delecta, the so-called “Queen of the Planets”…ruler of the seven-world Kaplan system that was as close as one could consider the frontier of known space. The people there even maintained their own language, stubbornly refusing the blanket adoption of Trans-Cosmos like other major space civilizations.
The strange procession rode upon a wave of prostration, as each floated over line of minions (along with the multitude of creatures great and small) collapsed to their knees, audibly smacked their masked heads against the hard ground and froze in position. At this the raven-tressed woman laughed conceitedly while Delecta alternated between strings of harsh Kaplanese words and sobbing piteously. As the floating party drew closer to the dais, other details gained sharper focus, serving to enhance the march’s peculiarity. A swarm of glowing emerald eyes orbited the two women, although only the brunette seemed to enjoy their company. She was talking to them, even nonchalantly reclining on the lap of the visibly disturbed young ruler while propping up her bare feet on the sabertooth’s head as she did so. Delecta herself had been heavily made-up in addition to her revealing attire, no doubt a bid to corrupt her wholesome image. Yet, the thick vampy eye shadow ran and the ruby lipstick smeared, as if the monarch had subconsciously fought to preserve her purity.
“Yes, I guess you can say she looks like the true ‘Whore of Babylon’.” The brunette said to the emerald eyes while grinning sardonically at the distressed maiden. “I was thinking along the lines of something less abstract…like Aphrodite, perhaps…she was quite the little trollop. Yes, of course I knew her personally!”
Taking an action that could be interpreted in any language, the Queen of the Planets angrily spat on her tormentor. However, the phlegm-enhanced spittle evaporated into golden mist before it touched the other woman’s face.
“I agree my sovereign…that was not very regal.” The brunette slowly sat up and chuckled spitefully, gently caressing the shadow chain with her thumb. Now a mere few feet away, the Sentinels could see the horrifying truth of the ornament around the beautiful Delecta’s neck. It was a shiny living thing, pulsating like a black heart muscle and ringed with what resembled long jagged teeth on both the upper and lower parts. As the brunette stroked the chain, the choker constricted violently. The teeth bloodlessly sunk into the galactic queen’s neck, resembling a lipless mouth taking a ravenous bite. The flaxen-haired maiden’s lips parted in an O, although her scream was silent. With mascara-tinged tears streaking down her cheeks, she clutched weakly at her throat and nearly fell off of the sabertooth before the indifferent brunette caught her around the waist.
“How many times must I hit you on the nose before you’re housebroken?” she sneered, taking pleasure in the stark helplessness in Delecta’s silver eyes.
Meanwhile, while the Viragon continued to serenade the progressively prostrating audience with Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend, the black lion broke rank and circled behind the paralyzed Sentinels. Unable to even tremble in terror, the frozen space warriors could do nothing but wait for the violent inevitable. However, at least for Amazona, a random thought brought a sliver of humor to the situation. She was reminded of the tales of ancient Roman gladiators who would battle lions before spectators demanding blood. At least the gladiators had a fighting chance and maybe some audience members that supported them. Here, the odds were purposely heaped against them as they were the unconditional enemy of the cult. Mercy was not just a luxury here…it was an undeniable myth.
Powerless to visually follow the lion’s path only heightened the tension. They could hear each tiny pat-pat of his massive paws on the dais, followed by taunting scrapes of his dagger-like claws. They could feel the soft midnight fur and steely sinews of the killing machine as he gracefully weaved his way around each of them, sizing them up. It was obvious that the creature was relishing the overwhelming apprehension of his stationary prey. He gave a few low rumbling growls for good measure, just to nudge the living statues over the edge. The poor queens of the impossible could only respond with tearful eyes widened in stark fear.
But then, something seized Tara’s attention, and then Gale’s. A few seconds later, Moon Girl’s jade eyes followed theirs and Amazona was the last to gain realization. The floating procession was almost to the dais, and nearly every row in the chamber was prostrating as a result. Yet, a few lines behind them stood a solitary masked female, who suddenly raced forward and stomped with both feet onto the lowered head of the brachiosaurus. Screeching shrilly, the long necked giant’s head, along with the masked cult member, instantly shot towards the ceiling like a cannon. Leaping off before the creature’s neck reached its apex, the woman gracefully glided through the air, arcing towards the floating sabertooth and its unsuspecting riders.
In the midst of her controlled fall a spectacular transformation unfolded. Her mask and loincloth, as well as her very skin began to slowly melt away in a spray of shimmering sparkles, gradually replaced by skin of a rich mahogany hue festooned with vibrant tattoos. The most prominent amongst them was a large profile of the African-American Civil Rights visionary (and galactic legend) Martin Luther King Jr, immortalized on the right side of her near naked torso. The homage was continued with the title of his greatest speech, “I Have A Dream”, inscribed vertically on the length of her entire left arm in white letters trimmed in blood red. A traditional black and white Zulu shield was tattooed on her left calf while the Zodiac symbol of Leo (in blue) was on her right shoulder. On her dark-skinned upper back was only the black outline of another piece of art…a lion, with blood dripping from its jaws, gnawing on the Earth.
Golden hair, with prominent purple streaks, burst forth in a curly afro that resembled an unruly lion’s mane. A green headband, with two tiny curved horns, tried in vain to tame the beautiful mess, however. A light green bra and briefs clung to and accentuated a supple gymnast frame; the simple outfit was accompanied by brown armlets, glistening golden anklets connected by chains to toe rings on slender bare feet, and a necklace of lion’s teeth with a hexagon medallion as its centerpiece. As the gorgeous stranger aerially closed in on her targets, she drew from behind her back a glowing curved red knife in each hand, resembling claws of jagged flame, with single serrated edges.
At the same time, the black lion, who had been stalking the Sentinels, suddenly turned and pounced on the singing Viragon, viciously catching its head within its deadly jaws. Caught by surprise, Gor and Shanri stared at the scene with a shared all-too human look of confusion. Meanwhile, while the galactic champions experienced unadulterated elation for the sudden intruder, it was the Mighty Woman who was the most excited. The newcomer was a childhood friend, one of the rare visitors to her people’s Arctic habitat…and ironically the first “person of color” she had ever met. While the contact between them had been sporadic over the years, their deep friendship still persevered. However, because of the limited correspondence, she did not know how far her old friend had progressed as a candidate for the Lion Man Dynasty, defending the jungles of Africa from the tyranny of evil.
Now, watching as the new Lion Woman descended on the floating prehistoric feline and its passengers, she mentally cheered in admiration.
Last edited by The UG 8 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
The Emperor In The Mountain:
The Oynx Sacrifice!
By M. Hadley
Before the Lion Woman made contact, a look of worry flashed across her pretty face. For just a second, she saw quite the astonishing sight: the cloud of emerald eyes formed a flickering holographic image above the brunette and her prisoner, resembling a giant oval African mask chaotically colored in black, red, and green. But, like a trick of light or flourish of the imagination, it was gone just as quickly. Time seemingly gelled as the huntress neared her raven-haired quarry. Somehow sensing her attacker, Nagana turned and pointed a finger at her, muttering the eldritch words of a spell. However, the witch’s arms were suddenly pinned to her sides by Delecta, trapping her in a tight embrace.
Working in perfectly timed but sporadic tandem, the flaxen-haired queen released her hold and leaped backward just as Lion Woman landed and straddled the sabertooth between her and the brunette. But she misjudged her rebound and found herself once again falling from the flying creature. Moving with astounding speed and fluid grace, the jungle nymph quickly sheathed her right knife and seized the chain of wispy shadow in that hand, halting Delecta’s plunge and pulling her to safety. Simultaneously, she mercilessly plunged the left knife into the brunette’s back, causing the woman to scream in agony while grasping desperately for the bloody embedded weapon. Below them, the massive audience suddenly sprung to frenzied life. The humans clutched their masked heads and squealed hysterically, quickly joined by the plethora of roaring jungle animals and dinosaurs in a chilling cacophony. A contingent of warriors directly beneath them suddenly brandished their dreaded black spears, sparkling with arcs of blue lightning, and aimed them at the Lion Woman.
Delecta clutched at her throat madly as the black choker chomped into it once again. Unsheathing her right knife, Lion Woman quickly held it to the brunette’s throat and whispered, “That was for defacing Africa. Now I want you to let this poor girl go…and let my teammates go as well, or by jungle law…I will spill your ancient blood.”
The brunette’s slender neck quivered as she audibly gulped. “It hurts, Master…I know you do not want her harmed…she is royalty, after all…”
Lion Woman’s golden eyes focused on the swarm of emerald eyes. “Great Scott…it’s him, isn’t it? You’re…in contact with that creature of hate, somehow…aren’t you?”
In the meantime, while the disturbing dissonance of the hordes died down, the Gorilla King and the Serpent Queen had somehow overcame their shock of betrayal and sought to rectify a grave error on their part. Moving on one sinister accord, the mythical beasts reached for the black lion cruelly mauling the Viragon, driven more by revenge than compassion for the silver being. However, the tormented Marilyn Monroe facsimile had other plans. An explosion of superheated steam from its reflective frame sent the stunned Koroo recoiling in pain. Regaining its feet in an instant, the Viragon became a blur of silver, relentless and inexhaustible, gracelessly pummeling the king of the beasts with heavy metal fists. The last blow, a powerful roundhouse kick, thundered in the resurrected quiet of the chamber. The poor Koroo’s massive form was sent tumbling down the steep dais stairs, vanishing into the multitude.
Lion Woman said nothing, refusing to cry out for her adored companion. She had faith that he would survive, anchored in the various “resurrections” she had witnessed on their adventures together over the years. She maintained focus on the woman before her, the first true immortal she had ever faced. Nagana had several millennia of life experience over her mere twenty years of existence; she could not take any chances with the so-called “Queen of Evil”. That was why the blades she wielded possessed a magical radiance. They were constructed from refined Iradium, the one element in all the known galaxies that could kill even the undying.
The sabertooth’s paws landed on the surface of the dais. The glass coffin of Fantomah, guarded by the emerald eye swarm, continued upward until it floated vertically before the face of the giant statue.
Hearing choking sounds and quiet sobs behind her, Lion Woman pressed her blade against Nagana’s tender throat. It was a gentle but firm tease, a tiny knick in order to coax out a droplet of blood. While the beautiful creature possessed an eternal body, it was still subject to the human failing of pain, aptly demonstrated by the still implanted left knife. Further confirmation was provided by the deadly Viragon and the two jungle creatures, who watched intensely but did not make a move towards them.
“Release Queen Delecta from your twisted bondage.” The ebony-skinned beauty demanded in whisper. “Or you will have a crimson bath.”
Nagana nodded timidly and uttered a few weird syllables. The chain of shadow suddenly evaporated and Delecta scrambled off the back of the feline, flopping to her knees on the ground while caressing her now naked throat and gasping vigorously. She was on her feet in seconds, teetering on skyscraper heels, and moved to stand face to face with her oppressor. For a minute, the entire cavern was still; it was as if existence itself was waiting breathlessly for the imminent retribution. Queen Delecta’s silver eyes shimmered with tears of wrath as they locked on to Nagana’s white ones, which lacked any remorse in their owner’s actions. Even the initial face of fear the evil sorceress had quickly melted away as her eternal smugness reasserted itself.
The Queen of the Kaplan System was not amused. Her right hand rose to eye level slowly, but her subsequent slap across Nagana’s face was lightning incarnate, swift and resonant.
It took all of Lion Woman’s dexterity to keep her glowing knife from tearing into the Queen of Evil’s jugular.
“Load off your chest?” she could not help but smile at the trembling monarch, who seemed a step away from swooning.
“How dare she lay a hand on me-!” Nagana growled.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Maleficent.” The huntress cooed, pressing her ice-cold blade once again to the eternal villainess’s neck.
“I can’t comprehend this.” Nagana complained. “You betray your own racial pride to help those who are obviously beneath you?! How could you? You should be at my side, assisting me in awakening the Lord of Obsidian-“
“What I don’t get is…if this is all about ‘racial pride’, then why are you so eager to be magician’s assistant?” Lion Woman retorted. “You’re not ‘black’ or a native of Africa obviously…so what does that monster have on-”
Suddenly, Delecta exploded into tears, screaming in Kaplanese at Nagana. Sadly not knowing the language, the Champion of Africa only had gestures to fall back on. Along with the untranslatable rant, the galactic queen pointed towards the audience several times, the tone of her words running the gamut from venomous insult to tearful entreaty. Nagana watched with an obvious false concern which quickly morphed into taunting, heartless laughter.
“What is she saying, witch?” Lion Woman snarled the inquiry.
“Something about giving her people back.” The sorceress brushed a tear of amusement from her eye, seemingly ignoring her predicament. “But what the vapid little tart fails to understand is that they are now forever marked by the Onyx Curse. They are Onyx Warriors now and forever. There is no going back.”
“Oh my God…” the Lady With the Golden Mane marveled breathlessly, taking in the enormous chamber and the millions of masked souls completely surrounding the dais. It was the mystery that had bothered her the most: how were the ranks of the modern-day Pax Xhangona being replenished? It was a hallmark of the despicable Xhango to kidnap Caucasians, transforming them into his infamous Onyx Warriors for use in global domination. Yet there was no record of mass disappearances of so-called “whites” (along with “blacks”, a now archaic classification in the age of star travel and extraterrestrials) on Earth or any of the heavily populated star systems…including the seven Kaplan planets. But then again, the Kaplan System operated at the fringes of known space, far from the attention of other key political powers. It would not take much to manipulate the flow of information from such distant worlds. In fact, as Lion Woman realized with a crippling dread, if Pax Xhangona had successfully taken over the entire system…only she and the other captive Sentinels knew. Not only did Xhango’s cult now possess a nearly inexhaustible army that fitted their racist modus operandi, but all of the resources afforded to an autonomous star society.
Frenziedly, her golden eyes darted about the masked audience, the epiphany transforming mindless abominations into innocent men and women. The current theory she and her mentor, the Lion Master Bubba, had was that the cult members were simply soulless clones of the original Onyx Warriors, American Caucasians abducted in the 1930s. It surely made the task of eradicating them much easier. But now, her resolve was shaken; she could not in good conscious take the life of someone’s father, mother or sibling.
Unfortunately, the mere second of reflection cost the jungle warrior greatly. The Viragon suddenly leaned forward, her vacant blue eyes flashing once before twin beams of emerald energy lanced from them. The resulting attack was instantaneous and devastating, the beams slicing into Lion Woman’s right shoulder in a flash of blistering pain. Her right hand went wild, the knife tearing into Nagana’s defenseless neck. Both women fell from the sabertooth – Nagana collapsing forward, hands clasped to a bloody neck, while the African woman landed hard on her back - and lay on the hard ground still as death. Frozen in shock, Delecta could do nothing but raise a trembling hand to equally quivering lips. She registered no reaction when Gor stomped over and seized her in his enormous hands, stretching her arms taut while dangling her off of the ground like a human puppet.
Groaning, Lion Woman winced as she moved her head to her right with a near superhuman effort. Her athletic physique was now seething with pain, her right shoulder being the epicenter. When she finally laid eyes on the smoldering wound, it took all of her will to maintain a stoic composure. A literal wedge of her shoulder was gone, including the Zodiac Leo tattoo in its entirety. Yet she chuckled to herself. Of course she had known about the deadly laser beams a Viragon’s curvoscope eyes could project; it was part of her Lion Man training. But what she did not expect was for the creepy robot to attack when its supposed mistress was being held hostage. Was this a sign of strife corrupting the evil cult’s solidarity? Whether this was true or not, a major obstacle was removed in the end. With the powerful Nagana dead, the Kaplanese would be freed and Xhango finally defeated.
Suddenly, cold metal fingers closed around her neck, disrupting her thoughts. The silver visage of Marilyn Monroe grinned coyly as it easily hefted the ebony beauty in the air in a one-handed chokehold. The disoriented Lion Woman could do nothing but kick feebly with her dangling feet, praying that she would not be killed before she could conceive a plan of action.
“Sweetheart, you’re lucky that you’re important.” The Viragon taunted. “Or you would’ve been vaporized back in Africa… when you first snuck aboard.”
The Defender of the Dark Continent suddenly gasped, but not because of the air trapped in her lungs. A few feet behind her assailant, Nagana stood without any effort and whirled around with a triumphant flourish, grinning tauntingly. The jagged gash in her neck was gone. Shanri quickly slithered behind the evil sorceress and tore the other luminous blade out of her back with her mouth. She then spat it on the floor beneath Lion Woman’s dangling feet, embedding it blade first in the dais’s stony surface.
“We’ve wasted enough time here.” Nagana sauntered up to the Viragon choking Lion Woman, mockingly caressing the breathless heroine’s face. “Bring another set of Chastity Garments. We would not want one of our princesses getting hurt before meeting her sire.”
If the poor jungle nymph’s mind had not been desperately focused on breathing, she would have been immensely disturbed by the implications of her “sire”. She had several minutes to come to terms with the horrifying revelation after Marilyn released her grip, allowing her to inhale and fall to the ground. Scarcely had her body made contact before she was swallowed by a mob of Onyx Warriors, vanishing into a world of slimy hands, black masks, and surprisingly, surreal sentences in archaic jive talk. As each piece of her outfit was ripped away, her mind replayed an instance of the preceding encounter, unveiling unsettling hidden meanings in words and actions. She had thought that Nagana’s usage of “royalty” and “princess” to be simple female insults or appeals to her racial makeup. She had figured that her successful infiltration of the Onyx Warriors was because of natural skill and Mysta’s camouflage technology.
But, as the icy metal bra and jeweled g-string was snapped into place, Lion Woman had no choice but to accept the sickening truth: she was a descendent of Xhango, history’s greatest supercriminal!
But who was the other “princess”?
Before the horde dressing her dispersed, a single object was ejected from their midst, sliding to the feet of Nagana. It was the golden belt that had been around the African guardian’s waist, with a gleaming circular buckle as its highlight. On the buckle was an insignia resembling the renowned symbol of the atom but with a silver crescent moon as the nucleus. Not caring about anything beyond the Egyptian culture of her birth, the ancient sorceress regarded the accessory with condescension, picking it up and inspecting it uninterestedly. For the frozen Sentinels, however, it was their icon, the one thing that resurrected hope inside of their hearts. Mysta of the Moon was still out there, doing everything her nth-level intelligence could conceive to rescue her charges.
Nursing the bloody pulp that was her right shoulder with her left hand, a woozy Lion Woman agonizingly staggered to her feet and searched the now animated masses for her lion friend. She found him a few hundred feet from the base of the dais steps, held at bay by a legion of black-faced cretins with their trademark spears. She knew it would have been useless to rush to the rescue; even if she managed to hold off the host, she would still have to slay innocent Kaplanese people. Nagana was the key to everything, but the Iradium had somehow failed. Failed! How could the one thing that could weaken even the nearly omnipotent Fantomah be useless against the Queen of Evil?!
Maybe she did not strike in the right place. Maybe she should have buried the blade directly in Nagana’s black heart.
The horrendous pain in her shoulder softened as she laboriously reached down and pulled her knife out of the ground. This meant her adrenaline was pumping and her focus was reasserted. Nagana was occupied with her Camouflage belt buckle, while Gor was focused on harassing the nearly catatonic Delecta. However the Viragon, Shanri, and now the sabertooth hovered nearby, forming a living protective barrier between the jungle warrior and her target. Her mind suddenly thought of her mentor Bubba’s love for the barbaric sport of “American” football. A better analogy could not be formed; she was the “running back”, her eclectic collection of adversaries was the rival team, and Nagana was the “touchdown”. All she would have to do was dodge around them, reach her and then-
Of course conception was easier than implementation.
Centering herself mentally, the Lady with the Golden Mane exhaled deeply before charging forward. Or she would have if her body had been her own. In her exuberance, she had ignored the telltale odor of ozone and the crackling sound of the golden electricity as her Chastity Garments activated. The young heroine watched in sheer terror as her right hand released her weapon and her legs moved her forward in a jerking stiff-legged gait, both without her control.
Nagana chuckled, shaking her head in mock disapproval as she offhandedly threw the golden belt away. “The Queen of the Kaplan worlds would make a fine addition to our family…wouldn’t you agree, stripling? It is perfectly poetic…what are a people without their leader?”
“Damn you, you old crone-!” Lion Woman spat, still having the ability to speak. She was now standing before Gor with both hands on Delecta’s shoulders. As if awakening from a dream, the Queen of the Planets stirred violently, her initial look of confusion quickly giving way to a teary-eyed mixture of imploring and anguish. She spoke rapidly in her language as the Gorilla King handed her off to the unfortunate Sentinel, the tone indicating pleading. Whispering “I’m sorry” over and over, Lion Woman practically dragged the squirming monarch by the hair directly before the golden stomach of the massive statue. She tried to close her eyes as she did this, but they were forced back open by the unnatural power controlling her body. Nagana’s council of animals, a few dozen Onyx Warriors, and the Viragon, joined unwillingly by the Sentinels, formed a large semi-circle around the two, hemming them in.
The Queen of Evil proudly strode up to the struggling Delecta and unceremoniously pulled the crown from her flaxen locks. Grinning wickedly, she then seized the galactic sovereign’s head in both taloned hands, forcing her to look inside the stomach’s inner chamber.
“You should be humble in the presence of our savior’s mother. This being before you is Asase Ya…the Earth Goddess of Fertility.” She whispered tauntingly. “Besides, that crown of metal doesn’t suit you anymore. But this new crown…you will wear it well.”
On cue, a solitary Onyx Warrior shoved his way into the circle and marched up to them, kneeling while majestically holding an embroidered golden box in outstretched hands. Releasing her hold on the whimpering Delecta, Nagana turned her back and shifted her full attention to the glass coffin of Fantomah directly above them. Of course, before the space monarch could react, she was seized (reluctantly) once again by Lion Woman, who held the poor woman’s arms behind her back.
“I think we need both princesses for this coronation, yes?” the Queen of Evil declared, not taking her eyes from the floating coffin. “Step forward, my pretty pretty…you are needed!”
At first, all was still. Then, a toe flinched. A single foot took a reluctant step, followed slowly by the other. On shapely legs that were no longer hers, Gale Allen sashayed forward with a broken heart and a shocked mind. No…it was impossible. She could not be part of that monster’s lineage! There must was some mistake…there had to be! But an instinct refined by Space Battalion training was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. The clue of her heritage was staring her in the face from the very beginning: the destruction of King Rogert’s memorial. What other reason was there for a cult desiring universal dominion to destroy a solitary planetary monument…specifically the one linked to her family? Why not ravage the whole of Vanam or attack the Solar System trade-routes?
Because the attack was not about inciting terror or making a political statement. It was a personal attack on her.
The very thought of the kinship made her physically ill, although her body thankfully did not comply. As usual, it responded to none of her mental commands, rendering her a mere spectator to the unfolding horror. Watching her hands move on their own accord bestowed a bizarre dreamlike quality to the proceedings, tempting the space heroine to completely relinquish her will. All she had to do was give up and let the despicable Nagana have her way for a little while. It was just that easy.
But, as her hands unlatched the golden box and opened it, her blue eyes connected with Lion Woman’s golden ones. Although the jungle huntress’s body obediently held the struggling form of the sobbing Delecta, her eyes shone with a steely resoluteness that was infectious. It triggered an overwhelming wave of guilt in the Venusian gunslinger. The newest Sentinel was still resisting despite the horrible discovery…while she had practically thrown in the towel. Gale was an adventurer because of familial history - tradition – stemming from the legendary Miss Masque and King Rogert. Being a descendent of the wicked Xhango now created a paradigm shift to her motivation – redemption.
Her revelation was interrupted by goosebumps rising on her arms. Unlike her motor functions, her tactile senses were still her own, and her fingers had touched something most unpleasant in the tenebrous interior of the box. The object felt like human flesh, but lacked warmth of any kind. Gale would have recoiled if she had control of her body. It felt as if she was caressing a corpse!
Both of her hands meticulously reached into the box and withdraw a transparent…thing. It resembled a featureless human mask but quivered like something made out of jelly. It would take the golden blonde a horrifying second to realize that the quivering was actual movement of a misshapen living mass.
“NO! NO!” Delecta screamed her first word of Trans-Cosmos as Gale took an involuntary step towards her, the mask wiggling in her hands. She winced as Lion Woman increased the pressure on her arms, but desperately tried to hold the Venusian at bay by clumsily kicking at her. Seemingly oblivious to the situation, the Queen of Evil continued to stare at the winged coffin in contemplation before lifting her left hand and pointing her index finger at it. It dissolved instantaneously, leaving behind the voluptuous form of the slumbering Fantomah adrift in a cloud of glowing emerald eyes. She was not completely naked, but wore bands of glowing red Iradium on her arms and ankles, and an intricate corresponding neck corset.
Nagana’s lips parted and the names and epithets of the Great Old Ones spilled forth: Abholos, the Devourer in the Mist, Ei’lor, the Star Seed and so forth, accompanied by strange circular motions of her hands and arms. Simultaneously, Gale closed in on the weeping Delecta with the wiggling mask in her hands, having no choice but to obey her wicked captor’s unspoken command.
Suddenly, a third gong shattered the chamber’s sacred silence.
The double doors were flung open and a humanoid thunderbolt struck, carving a huge violent swath through the eclectic masses. Taking advantage of the ensuing chaos, Koroo sprung forward, easily bowling over the fiends that had trapped him moments earlier. The black lion took the steep dais stairs in two massive bounds and landed on the platform, snarling as he knelt into the pounce position directly outside the semicircle. The flashy blur that had easily ripped through the hordes landed next to him with such force that the dais quaked and a thick cloud of dust engulfed them completely. Before the invader was visually exposed to the astonished onlookers, a catchy song radiated from where it stood.
“Look in my eyes…what do you see?! The Cult of Personality!” a male voice sung over boisterous rock music.
As if by some dramatic initiative, the dust cloud suddenly subsided, unveiling a silver man of stout sculpted musculature with blazing red orbs for eyes.
Robot had come to save the Sentinels. But where was his mistress? Where was Mysta of the Moon?
Nagana did not respond to the new development, as her sole focus was on weaving the ceremony’s vital spell. Her will was enforced through intuitive telepathic commands anyway, so her protection was guaranteed. The Onyx Warriors in the semicircle - along with the forced Sentinels, Gor, Shanri, and the Viragon – threateningly turned and advanced on the growling lion and Robot. At the same time, a huge number of the white-skinned savages stealthily crept up from behind via the dais stairs, armed with their deadly black spears.
“I know your anger! I know your dreams! I’ve been everything you want me to be!” Robot continued singing, unsettling the minions behind it by whirling its head completely around on its shoulders. Its chest suddenly slid open and a dainty female foot, shod in a white slingback, emerged, followed by a shapely leg. From out of Robot stepped a well-formed silver-haired lady, the pinnacle of sophistication in an Elizabeth Taylor-inspired white cocktail dress with a teasing neckline, a diamond encrusted moon-shaped tiara, and matching diamond earrings designed in the Sentinels’ atomic-inspired symbol. Ignoring the armed adversaries steadily surrounding her band, she leveled a silver raygun at the back of the seemingly engrossed Nagana.
“I’ve defeated the God of War, my little sorceress.” Mysta of the Moon boasted. “What chance has you and your lot against my intelligence?”
The Oynx Sacrifice!
By M. Hadley
Before the Lion Woman made contact, a look of worry flashed across her pretty face. For just a second, she saw quite the astonishing sight: the cloud of emerald eyes formed a flickering holographic image above the brunette and her prisoner, resembling a giant oval African mask chaotically colored in black, red, and green. But, like a trick of light or flourish of the imagination, it was gone just as quickly. Time seemingly gelled as the huntress neared her raven-haired quarry. Somehow sensing her attacker, Nagana turned and pointed a finger at her, muttering the eldritch words of a spell. However, the witch’s arms were suddenly pinned to her sides by Delecta, trapping her in a tight embrace.
Working in perfectly timed but sporadic tandem, the flaxen-haired queen released her hold and leaped backward just as Lion Woman landed and straddled the sabertooth between her and the brunette. But she misjudged her rebound and found herself once again falling from the flying creature. Moving with astounding speed and fluid grace, the jungle nymph quickly sheathed her right knife and seized the chain of wispy shadow in that hand, halting Delecta’s plunge and pulling her to safety. Simultaneously, she mercilessly plunged the left knife into the brunette’s back, causing the woman to scream in agony while grasping desperately for the bloody embedded weapon. Below them, the massive audience suddenly sprung to frenzied life. The humans clutched their masked heads and squealed hysterically, quickly joined by the plethora of roaring jungle animals and dinosaurs in a chilling cacophony. A contingent of warriors directly beneath them suddenly brandished their dreaded black spears, sparkling with arcs of blue lightning, and aimed them at the Lion Woman.
Delecta clutched at her throat madly as the black choker chomped into it once again. Unsheathing her right knife, Lion Woman quickly held it to the brunette’s throat and whispered, “That was for defacing Africa. Now I want you to let this poor girl go…and let my teammates go as well, or by jungle law…I will spill your ancient blood.”
The brunette’s slender neck quivered as she audibly gulped. “It hurts, Master…I know you do not want her harmed…she is royalty, after all…”
Lion Woman’s golden eyes focused on the swarm of emerald eyes. “Great Scott…it’s him, isn’t it? You’re…in contact with that creature of hate, somehow…aren’t you?”
In the meantime, while the disturbing dissonance of the hordes died down, the Gorilla King and the Serpent Queen had somehow overcame their shock of betrayal and sought to rectify a grave error on their part. Moving on one sinister accord, the mythical beasts reached for the black lion cruelly mauling the Viragon, driven more by revenge than compassion for the silver being. However, the tormented Marilyn Monroe facsimile had other plans. An explosion of superheated steam from its reflective frame sent the stunned Koroo recoiling in pain. Regaining its feet in an instant, the Viragon became a blur of silver, relentless and inexhaustible, gracelessly pummeling the king of the beasts with heavy metal fists. The last blow, a powerful roundhouse kick, thundered in the resurrected quiet of the chamber. The poor Koroo’s massive form was sent tumbling down the steep dais stairs, vanishing into the multitude.
Lion Woman said nothing, refusing to cry out for her adored companion. She had faith that he would survive, anchored in the various “resurrections” she had witnessed on their adventures together over the years. She maintained focus on the woman before her, the first true immortal she had ever faced. Nagana had several millennia of life experience over her mere twenty years of existence; she could not take any chances with the so-called “Queen of Evil”. That was why the blades she wielded possessed a magical radiance. They were constructed from refined Iradium, the one element in all the known galaxies that could kill even the undying.
The sabertooth’s paws landed on the surface of the dais. The glass coffin of Fantomah, guarded by the emerald eye swarm, continued upward until it floated vertically before the face of the giant statue.
Hearing choking sounds and quiet sobs behind her, Lion Woman pressed her blade against Nagana’s tender throat. It was a gentle but firm tease, a tiny knick in order to coax out a droplet of blood. While the beautiful creature possessed an eternal body, it was still subject to the human failing of pain, aptly demonstrated by the still implanted left knife. Further confirmation was provided by the deadly Viragon and the two jungle creatures, who watched intensely but did not make a move towards them.
“Release Queen Delecta from your twisted bondage.” The ebony-skinned beauty demanded in whisper. “Or you will have a crimson bath.”
Nagana nodded timidly and uttered a few weird syllables. The chain of shadow suddenly evaporated and Delecta scrambled off the back of the feline, flopping to her knees on the ground while caressing her now naked throat and gasping vigorously. She was on her feet in seconds, teetering on skyscraper heels, and moved to stand face to face with her oppressor. For a minute, the entire cavern was still; it was as if existence itself was waiting breathlessly for the imminent retribution. Queen Delecta’s silver eyes shimmered with tears of wrath as they locked on to Nagana’s white ones, which lacked any remorse in their owner’s actions. Even the initial face of fear the evil sorceress had quickly melted away as her eternal smugness reasserted itself.
The Queen of the Kaplan System was not amused. Her right hand rose to eye level slowly, but her subsequent slap across Nagana’s face was lightning incarnate, swift and resonant.
It took all of Lion Woman’s dexterity to keep her glowing knife from tearing into the Queen of Evil’s jugular.
“Load off your chest?” she could not help but smile at the trembling monarch, who seemed a step away from swooning.
“How dare she lay a hand on me-!” Nagana growled.
“I wasn’t talking to you, Maleficent.” The huntress cooed, pressing her ice-cold blade once again to the eternal villainess’s neck.
“I can’t comprehend this.” Nagana complained. “You betray your own racial pride to help those who are obviously beneath you?! How could you? You should be at my side, assisting me in awakening the Lord of Obsidian-“
“What I don’t get is…if this is all about ‘racial pride’, then why are you so eager to be magician’s assistant?” Lion Woman retorted. “You’re not ‘black’ or a native of Africa obviously…so what does that monster have on-”
Suddenly, Delecta exploded into tears, screaming in Kaplanese at Nagana. Sadly not knowing the language, the Champion of Africa only had gestures to fall back on. Along with the untranslatable rant, the galactic queen pointed towards the audience several times, the tone of her words running the gamut from venomous insult to tearful entreaty. Nagana watched with an obvious false concern which quickly morphed into taunting, heartless laughter.
“What is she saying, witch?” Lion Woman snarled the inquiry.
“Something about giving her people back.” The sorceress brushed a tear of amusement from her eye, seemingly ignoring her predicament. “But what the vapid little tart fails to understand is that they are now forever marked by the Onyx Curse. They are Onyx Warriors now and forever. There is no going back.”
“Oh my God…” the Lady With the Golden Mane marveled breathlessly, taking in the enormous chamber and the millions of masked souls completely surrounding the dais. It was the mystery that had bothered her the most: how were the ranks of the modern-day Pax Xhangona being replenished? It was a hallmark of the despicable Xhango to kidnap Caucasians, transforming them into his infamous Onyx Warriors for use in global domination. Yet there was no record of mass disappearances of so-called “whites” (along with “blacks”, a now archaic classification in the age of star travel and extraterrestrials) on Earth or any of the heavily populated star systems…including the seven Kaplan planets. But then again, the Kaplan System operated at the fringes of known space, far from the attention of other key political powers. It would not take much to manipulate the flow of information from such distant worlds. In fact, as Lion Woman realized with a crippling dread, if Pax Xhangona had successfully taken over the entire system…only she and the other captive Sentinels knew. Not only did Xhango’s cult now possess a nearly inexhaustible army that fitted their racist modus operandi, but all of the resources afforded to an autonomous star society.
Frenziedly, her golden eyes darted about the masked audience, the epiphany transforming mindless abominations into innocent men and women. The current theory she and her mentor, the Lion Master Bubba, had was that the cult members were simply soulless clones of the original Onyx Warriors, American Caucasians abducted in the 1930s. It surely made the task of eradicating them much easier. But now, her resolve was shaken; she could not in good conscious take the life of someone’s father, mother or sibling.
Unfortunately, the mere second of reflection cost the jungle warrior greatly. The Viragon suddenly leaned forward, her vacant blue eyes flashing once before twin beams of emerald energy lanced from them. The resulting attack was instantaneous and devastating, the beams slicing into Lion Woman’s right shoulder in a flash of blistering pain. Her right hand went wild, the knife tearing into Nagana’s defenseless neck. Both women fell from the sabertooth – Nagana collapsing forward, hands clasped to a bloody neck, while the African woman landed hard on her back - and lay on the hard ground still as death. Frozen in shock, Delecta could do nothing but raise a trembling hand to equally quivering lips. She registered no reaction when Gor stomped over and seized her in his enormous hands, stretching her arms taut while dangling her off of the ground like a human puppet.
Groaning, Lion Woman winced as she moved her head to her right with a near superhuman effort. Her athletic physique was now seething with pain, her right shoulder being the epicenter. When she finally laid eyes on the smoldering wound, it took all of her will to maintain a stoic composure. A literal wedge of her shoulder was gone, including the Zodiac Leo tattoo in its entirety. Yet she chuckled to herself. Of course she had known about the deadly laser beams a Viragon’s curvoscope eyes could project; it was part of her Lion Man training. But what she did not expect was for the creepy robot to attack when its supposed mistress was being held hostage. Was this a sign of strife corrupting the evil cult’s solidarity? Whether this was true or not, a major obstacle was removed in the end. With the powerful Nagana dead, the Kaplanese would be freed and Xhango finally defeated.
Suddenly, cold metal fingers closed around her neck, disrupting her thoughts. The silver visage of Marilyn Monroe grinned coyly as it easily hefted the ebony beauty in the air in a one-handed chokehold. The disoriented Lion Woman could do nothing but kick feebly with her dangling feet, praying that she would not be killed before she could conceive a plan of action.
“Sweetheart, you’re lucky that you’re important.” The Viragon taunted. “Or you would’ve been vaporized back in Africa… when you first snuck aboard.”
The Defender of the Dark Continent suddenly gasped, but not because of the air trapped in her lungs. A few feet behind her assailant, Nagana stood without any effort and whirled around with a triumphant flourish, grinning tauntingly. The jagged gash in her neck was gone. Shanri quickly slithered behind the evil sorceress and tore the other luminous blade out of her back with her mouth. She then spat it on the floor beneath Lion Woman’s dangling feet, embedding it blade first in the dais’s stony surface.
“We’ve wasted enough time here.” Nagana sauntered up to the Viragon choking Lion Woman, mockingly caressing the breathless heroine’s face. “Bring another set of Chastity Garments. We would not want one of our princesses getting hurt before meeting her sire.”
If the poor jungle nymph’s mind had not been desperately focused on breathing, she would have been immensely disturbed by the implications of her “sire”. She had several minutes to come to terms with the horrifying revelation after Marilyn released her grip, allowing her to inhale and fall to the ground. Scarcely had her body made contact before she was swallowed by a mob of Onyx Warriors, vanishing into a world of slimy hands, black masks, and surprisingly, surreal sentences in archaic jive talk. As each piece of her outfit was ripped away, her mind replayed an instance of the preceding encounter, unveiling unsettling hidden meanings in words and actions. She had thought that Nagana’s usage of “royalty” and “princess” to be simple female insults or appeals to her racial makeup. She had figured that her successful infiltration of the Onyx Warriors was because of natural skill and Mysta’s camouflage technology.
But, as the icy metal bra and jeweled g-string was snapped into place, Lion Woman had no choice but to accept the sickening truth: she was a descendent of Xhango, history’s greatest supercriminal!
But who was the other “princess”?
Before the horde dressing her dispersed, a single object was ejected from their midst, sliding to the feet of Nagana. It was the golden belt that had been around the African guardian’s waist, with a gleaming circular buckle as its highlight. On the buckle was an insignia resembling the renowned symbol of the atom but with a silver crescent moon as the nucleus. Not caring about anything beyond the Egyptian culture of her birth, the ancient sorceress regarded the accessory with condescension, picking it up and inspecting it uninterestedly. For the frozen Sentinels, however, it was their icon, the one thing that resurrected hope inside of their hearts. Mysta of the Moon was still out there, doing everything her nth-level intelligence could conceive to rescue her charges.
Nursing the bloody pulp that was her right shoulder with her left hand, a woozy Lion Woman agonizingly staggered to her feet and searched the now animated masses for her lion friend. She found him a few hundred feet from the base of the dais steps, held at bay by a legion of black-faced cretins with their trademark spears. She knew it would have been useless to rush to the rescue; even if she managed to hold off the host, she would still have to slay innocent Kaplanese people. Nagana was the key to everything, but the Iradium had somehow failed. Failed! How could the one thing that could weaken even the nearly omnipotent Fantomah be useless against the Queen of Evil?!
Maybe she did not strike in the right place. Maybe she should have buried the blade directly in Nagana’s black heart.
The horrendous pain in her shoulder softened as she laboriously reached down and pulled her knife out of the ground. This meant her adrenaline was pumping and her focus was reasserted. Nagana was occupied with her Camouflage belt buckle, while Gor was focused on harassing the nearly catatonic Delecta. However the Viragon, Shanri, and now the sabertooth hovered nearby, forming a living protective barrier between the jungle warrior and her target. Her mind suddenly thought of her mentor Bubba’s love for the barbaric sport of “American” football. A better analogy could not be formed; she was the “running back”, her eclectic collection of adversaries was the rival team, and Nagana was the “touchdown”. All she would have to do was dodge around them, reach her and then-
Of course conception was easier than implementation.
Centering herself mentally, the Lady with the Golden Mane exhaled deeply before charging forward. Or she would have if her body had been her own. In her exuberance, she had ignored the telltale odor of ozone and the crackling sound of the golden electricity as her Chastity Garments activated. The young heroine watched in sheer terror as her right hand released her weapon and her legs moved her forward in a jerking stiff-legged gait, both without her control.
Nagana chuckled, shaking her head in mock disapproval as she offhandedly threw the golden belt away. “The Queen of the Kaplan worlds would make a fine addition to our family…wouldn’t you agree, stripling? It is perfectly poetic…what are a people without their leader?”
“Damn you, you old crone-!” Lion Woman spat, still having the ability to speak. She was now standing before Gor with both hands on Delecta’s shoulders. As if awakening from a dream, the Queen of the Planets stirred violently, her initial look of confusion quickly giving way to a teary-eyed mixture of imploring and anguish. She spoke rapidly in her language as the Gorilla King handed her off to the unfortunate Sentinel, the tone indicating pleading. Whispering “I’m sorry” over and over, Lion Woman practically dragged the squirming monarch by the hair directly before the golden stomach of the massive statue. She tried to close her eyes as she did this, but they were forced back open by the unnatural power controlling her body. Nagana’s council of animals, a few dozen Onyx Warriors, and the Viragon, joined unwillingly by the Sentinels, formed a large semi-circle around the two, hemming them in.
The Queen of Evil proudly strode up to the struggling Delecta and unceremoniously pulled the crown from her flaxen locks. Grinning wickedly, she then seized the galactic sovereign’s head in both taloned hands, forcing her to look inside the stomach’s inner chamber.
“You should be humble in the presence of our savior’s mother. This being before you is Asase Ya…the Earth Goddess of Fertility.” She whispered tauntingly. “Besides, that crown of metal doesn’t suit you anymore. But this new crown…you will wear it well.”
On cue, a solitary Onyx Warrior shoved his way into the circle and marched up to them, kneeling while majestically holding an embroidered golden box in outstretched hands. Releasing her hold on the whimpering Delecta, Nagana turned her back and shifted her full attention to the glass coffin of Fantomah directly above them. Of course, before the space monarch could react, she was seized (reluctantly) once again by Lion Woman, who held the poor woman’s arms behind her back.
“I think we need both princesses for this coronation, yes?” the Queen of Evil declared, not taking her eyes from the floating coffin. “Step forward, my pretty pretty…you are needed!”
At first, all was still. Then, a toe flinched. A single foot took a reluctant step, followed slowly by the other. On shapely legs that were no longer hers, Gale Allen sashayed forward with a broken heart and a shocked mind. No…it was impossible. She could not be part of that monster’s lineage! There must was some mistake…there had to be! But an instinct refined by Space Battalion training was as much of a curse as it was a blessing. The clue of her heritage was staring her in the face from the very beginning: the destruction of King Rogert’s memorial. What other reason was there for a cult desiring universal dominion to destroy a solitary planetary monument…specifically the one linked to her family? Why not ravage the whole of Vanam or attack the Solar System trade-routes?
Because the attack was not about inciting terror or making a political statement. It was a personal attack on her.
The very thought of the kinship made her physically ill, although her body thankfully did not comply. As usual, it responded to none of her mental commands, rendering her a mere spectator to the unfolding horror. Watching her hands move on their own accord bestowed a bizarre dreamlike quality to the proceedings, tempting the space heroine to completely relinquish her will. All she had to do was give up and let the despicable Nagana have her way for a little while. It was just that easy.
But, as her hands unlatched the golden box and opened it, her blue eyes connected with Lion Woman’s golden ones. Although the jungle huntress’s body obediently held the struggling form of the sobbing Delecta, her eyes shone with a steely resoluteness that was infectious. It triggered an overwhelming wave of guilt in the Venusian gunslinger. The newest Sentinel was still resisting despite the horrible discovery…while she had practically thrown in the towel. Gale was an adventurer because of familial history - tradition – stemming from the legendary Miss Masque and King Rogert. Being a descendent of the wicked Xhango now created a paradigm shift to her motivation – redemption.
Her revelation was interrupted by goosebumps rising on her arms. Unlike her motor functions, her tactile senses were still her own, and her fingers had touched something most unpleasant in the tenebrous interior of the box. The object felt like human flesh, but lacked warmth of any kind. Gale would have recoiled if she had control of her body. It felt as if she was caressing a corpse!
Both of her hands meticulously reached into the box and withdraw a transparent…thing. It resembled a featureless human mask but quivered like something made out of jelly. It would take the golden blonde a horrifying second to realize that the quivering was actual movement of a misshapen living mass.
“NO! NO!” Delecta screamed her first word of Trans-Cosmos as Gale took an involuntary step towards her, the mask wiggling in her hands. She winced as Lion Woman increased the pressure on her arms, but desperately tried to hold the Venusian at bay by clumsily kicking at her. Seemingly oblivious to the situation, the Queen of Evil continued to stare at the winged coffin in contemplation before lifting her left hand and pointing her index finger at it. It dissolved instantaneously, leaving behind the voluptuous form of the slumbering Fantomah adrift in a cloud of glowing emerald eyes. She was not completely naked, but wore bands of glowing red Iradium on her arms and ankles, and an intricate corresponding neck corset.
Nagana’s lips parted and the names and epithets of the Great Old Ones spilled forth: Abholos, the Devourer in the Mist, Ei’lor, the Star Seed and so forth, accompanied by strange circular motions of her hands and arms. Simultaneously, Gale closed in on the weeping Delecta with the wiggling mask in her hands, having no choice but to obey her wicked captor’s unspoken command.
Suddenly, a third gong shattered the chamber’s sacred silence.
The double doors were flung open and a humanoid thunderbolt struck, carving a huge violent swath through the eclectic masses. Taking advantage of the ensuing chaos, Koroo sprung forward, easily bowling over the fiends that had trapped him moments earlier. The black lion took the steep dais stairs in two massive bounds and landed on the platform, snarling as he knelt into the pounce position directly outside the semicircle. The flashy blur that had easily ripped through the hordes landed next to him with such force that the dais quaked and a thick cloud of dust engulfed them completely. Before the invader was visually exposed to the astonished onlookers, a catchy song radiated from where it stood.
“Look in my eyes…what do you see?! The Cult of Personality!” a male voice sung over boisterous rock music.
As if by some dramatic initiative, the dust cloud suddenly subsided, unveiling a silver man of stout sculpted musculature with blazing red orbs for eyes.
Robot had come to save the Sentinels. But where was his mistress? Where was Mysta of the Moon?
Nagana did not respond to the new development, as her sole focus was on weaving the ceremony’s vital spell. Her will was enforced through intuitive telepathic commands anyway, so her protection was guaranteed. The Onyx Warriors in the semicircle - along with the forced Sentinels, Gor, Shanri, and the Viragon – threateningly turned and advanced on the growling lion and Robot. At the same time, a huge number of the white-skinned savages stealthily crept up from behind via the dais stairs, armed with their deadly black spears.
“I know your anger! I know your dreams! I’ve been everything you want me to be!” Robot continued singing, unsettling the minions behind it by whirling its head completely around on its shoulders. Its chest suddenly slid open and a dainty female foot, shod in a white slingback, emerged, followed by a shapely leg. From out of Robot stepped a well-formed silver-haired lady, the pinnacle of sophistication in an Elizabeth Taylor-inspired white cocktail dress with a teasing neckline, a diamond encrusted moon-shaped tiara, and matching diamond earrings designed in the Sentinels’ atomic-inspired symbol. Ignoring the armed adversaries steadily surrounding her band, she leveled a silver raygun at the back of the seemingly engrossed Nagana.
“I’ve defeated the God of War, my little sorceress.” Mysta of the Moon boasted. “What chance has you and your lot against my intelligence?”
The Emperor In The Mountain:
Rally The Sentinels!
By M. Hadley
Whenever Mysta was extremely apprehensive, her eidetic memory unconsciously recalled historical failures comparable to the situation at hand. For example, if she was in a failing showdown with a stellar despot, she would be hounded by a similarity to the Burr-Hamilton Duel, mainly Alexander Hamilton’s unfortunate fate. Here, surrounded by a quickly growing mass of bizarre assailants, her mind bombarded her with the Three Hundred in the Battle of Thermopylae, Custer’s Little Bighorn, and the Five Hour War of New Atlantis – last stands where a small opposition fell against overwhelming enemy forces. The beautiful polymath quickly reined in her anxiety with Admiral Yi Sun-sin’s triumph in the Battle of Myeongnyang. Although she and her team had no chance in crushing Pax Xhangona that day, they could at least halt the resurrection of its horrible architect.
A muscular silver arm stretched out protectively before her, armed with a wrist-mounted glowing blue energy sword. The larger Robot bowed slightly over her, performing his eternal duty to the tune of Living Colour’s Cult of Personality (the reconstituted Atoma’s idea) broadcasting from his internal speakers. The silver-tressed woman looked up fondly into his face and winked. It was now time for Phase Two to begin.
Suddenly, in several places above the multitude, the craggy magma-veined ceiling exploded, heralding the arrival of several hundred duplicates of Robot (and the exponential increase of the song’s volume). Like a shell bombardment, the metal men crashed amongst the crowd, sending humans, animals, and dinosaurs flying about like living shrapnel. This quickly deteriorated into total chaos as the forces of Pax Xhangona fanatically rushed to kill the invaders. Yet, the evil Nagana was not deterred from her spellcasting; she continued to operate as if she was alone in the very vacuum of space.
Obviously stopping the ancient witch was her top priority. In her hand was the Electronic Converter Ray Pistol, an extremely powerful weapon of Mercurian design that could change the atomic arrangement of anything hit by its blasts. Making sure that none of the Sentinels were part of the immediate faction bearing down on her, she quickly squeezed the trigger. The Pistol sung shrilly as a yellow ray bathed the masked deviants, converting them into pillars of salt (NaCl) before they knew what was happening. Leaving her ubiquitous protector swarmed by Onyx Warriors, Mysta slipped through the gap between the pillars and raced blindly towards the Queen of Evil. She had to calculate the energy of the Pistol precisely…just a single flash to turn her immortal adversary into steam and the rest reserved to utilize the “Full Force Blast” and resurrect the unfortunate warriors just converted. She was thankful for this particular ability, as their limited microexpressions and body language told her that they were not attacking on their own volition. She also determined that they were of the Kaplan System in this manner.
A few rapid steps clear of the pillars awarded her with a view of Lion Woman and Gale, just seconds away from placing the squirming transparent horror on poor Delecta’s face. A flash of silver and Gale was suddenly gone. Another blur seconds later and a bewildered Lion Woman joined her. A shaken Queen Delecta fell to her knees, hyperventilating. She was attacked by her brainwashed subjects before Mysta could reach her side. Thankfully, Robot, ever the purveyor of the timely rescue, exploded out of the blue, scattering her assailants like tenpins.
“Your Majesty, I presume?” Mysta knelt down with Delecta, draping a comforting arm across her shoulders.
The galactic sovereign gasped an inquiry in her language.
The Maven of Information simply pointed in the air above the mayhem. Following the direction indicated, the Queen of the Planets watched as two floating Robot duplicates opened their chests, each “swallowing” a Sentinel in a portal of light. She rose to her feet, a hand clasped to her chest, concern etched on her face.
Mysta dismissed Delecta’s worry with a nonchalant wave. “There are nanomachines inside that will take care of those pesky motor control devices in their…garments. Also made a stop at the ‘gift shop’, so to speak…so they will be armed-”
Delecta suddenly threw her arms around Mysta and hugged her tightly.
“Your Majesty-” Mysta protested nervously, watching over the queen’s shoulder as Amazona, Moon Girl, and Tara emerged untouched from the battling hordes and blankly crept towards them. In rapid succession, the body-controlled Sentinels were each snatched up by a passerby Robot duplicate and shoved into the mysterious cavities in their chests. Telepathically ordering the original Robot to guard Delecta with its life, Mysta led the trio through a living labyrinth of clashing forces, towards the golden statue’s belly where Nagana was. However, the intrepid heroines soon found themselves stumbling wildly as the dais began to quake violently. An unintentional glance at the silver-haired genius’s feet stopped her instantly in her tracks. Literally, before her very eyes, a gigantic symbol was being engraved into the dais’s stony surface by an invisible hand. Telepathically connecting with the duplicate Robot units engaged in aerial combat above them, Mysta was instantly able to gain a bird’s eye view of the entire sign.
It was a pentagram in a circle with two overlapping sets of partial pentagrams, a trademark sigil from the terrible grimoire known as the Necronomicon. The particular symbol was the Sigil of the Gateway, used to summon cosmic horrors from beyond time and space.
All of a sudden, a powerful explosion was unleashed, hurling away both friend and foe. Luckily, Robot gently caught and shielded its mistress and Delecta from the worst of the shockwaves, using its feet rockets to land gently among the plummeting bodies. With the exception of the spellweaving Queen of Evil, the dais was cleared. However, a gigantic bubble of silver energy now encapsulated it and the golden statue in its entirety. The Onyx Warriors, their various jungle animals and dinosaurs returned to their collective feet and resumed the war with the Robots without skipping a beat. The trio of space guardians quickly found themselves surrounded by Nagana’s brainwashed minions.
“You think you could have brought a change of clothes.” Gale’s voice suddenly reached their ears. The golden blonde landed catlike before them, dropped from above by the flying Robot duplicate that had captured her earlier. She was still in her compulsory bra and g-string but with the added accessories of her twin red thigh holsters. As she drew her golden rayguns and twirled them like a Wild West cowboy, each signaled its activation with a computerized British voice droning a line.
“Tis but a scratch!” the left gun intoned.
“It’s just a flesh wound!” the right gun recited.
“I’m invincible!” they both exclaimed.
“When do you find the time to do stuff like that?” Amazona chided, rising from her own three-point landing. She was armed with only one golden heart-shaped knuckleduster on her right hand.
“Yeah, like you’re one to talk about embellishment…” Gale rolled her eyes playfully. “Every time you take a swing, you leave arching rainbows behind. Rainbows.”
“So the ban on witty banter is lifted?” Moon Girl skipped to a place between Gale and Amazona, giving the latter a peck on the cheek. Her Moonstone dangled around her neck, returned to its original ivory color.
“I thought that thing would stay red?” Amazona asked Moon Girl, visually confused. “We’re still in trouble here.”
The Girl of Moonlight shrugged. “But I know the extent of it now…I guess. Besides, how can I know if a new situation reared its ugly head if the Moonstone’s still red-?”
“How did you get my knives back?” Lion Woman quickly glanced at Mysta before protectively crouching before her, a crimson blade in each hand. Her right shoulder had been heavily bandaged while inside the Robot unit.
“One of Robot’s ‘brothers’.” Mysta answered. “Oh, and Sentinels….this is Lion Woman, part of the legendary Lion Man Dynasty and-”
“Caught your act.” Gale quickly nodded at her before returning her attention to the advancing host. “Welcome to the team and…to my family…cousin.”
“Have a lot of catching up to do if we get out of this…” Lion Woman grinned slightly.
“I see you took my idea after all.” Amazona commented cheerfully, snatching a glance of the lion tattoo outline on the darker woman’s back.
“It was a good call, old friend.” The Lady with the Golden Mane told her. “I’m trying to find time to get it finished…but with defending the savannah and now missions as a Sentinel...by the way, has anyone seen Koroo-?”
She was interrupted by a strange humming sound. Tara landed before the assemblage with her signature Atom Sword activated and a demented look on her beautiful face. She did not take her place among the others, however; instead, while screaming “NAGANA!” at the top of her lungs, the Queen of the Space Pirates raced like mad towards the onrushing horde.
“Tara, don’t kill anyone!” Mysta screamed from behind. “They are still innocent victims, not perpetrators!”
“So much for solidarity…” Gale chuckled. “And here I thought I could finally belt out our battle cry.”
“Which is?” All eyes, including those of Robot, fell on her.
The Venusian gunslinger coughed embarrassingly and nodded at the charging Onyx Warriors. “I’ll tell you when we get out of here.”
“Remember, our target is Nagana.” Mysta told them. “Incapacitate her and the rest will fall. I just need one shot to do the deed-”
Suddenly, the entire cavern shook, throwing all combatants into disarray once again. A deafening monstrous roar followed, radiating from the gigantic golden statue’s equally massive lips as they slowly parted. The emerald eyes that were guarding the slumbering Fantomah disappeared down the statue’s immense gullet, emerging in the interior of the stomach chamber. There they hovered around the head of the thing sitting at the stone table. At the same time, thick tentacles made of glowing white energy emerged from the statue’s mouth, ensnaring each limb of the nude jungle goddess.
“By Mars!” Moon Girl squealed in horror. “We’ve run out of time! The resurrection is upon us!”
“You’re being a drama queen!” Lion Woman forced a laugh. “We’re the Sentinels of the Universe! We won’t fail!”
“Let’s begin!” Mysta shouted. “Robot, you’re on point. Gale, you’re directly behind me and Lion Woman, and Delecta is your Number One priority. Amazona, back up Robot. Only Tara would appreciate the irony…thrusting our way through the mob, so to speak, just like a fencing maneuver!”
However, before the wondrous women (and Robot) could initiate their battle plan, their main opposition ripped through the crowd and stood before them: Gor, with a few of his primate ranks, and the giant serpent Shanri. The Viragon was the last of the line-up, floating down from the sky and landing before them. Yet, before a standoff could even be initiated, the false Marilyn Monroe let loose with an earsplitting screech and stared down at its chiseled bosom in horror. Between its silvery breasts, the tip of a laser rapier poked out and then retreated just as quickly. The artificial being collapsed to its knees, revealing Tara standing behind with a sadistic grin on her face.
Wordlessly, the rest of the Sentinels sprung into battle, overwhelming their uncanny adversaries with sheer bravado. Utilizing coordinated wrestling maneuvers such as dropkicks, clotheslines, and spinning elbows, the Mighty Woman and Lunar Lady easily dispatched the Gorilla King’s subordinates and fearlessly faced off against the giant primate himself. Simultaneously, Lion Woman attacked the Serpent Queen, stabbing her knives into the steely emerald scales of the bucking reptile and holding on like a participant in a rodeo. However, her serpentine enemy proved to be too strong and the ebony-skinned beauty was thrown a good distance into the fighting masses. Luckily, she was saved by Koroo, who slid between her legs like a steed in midair. However, they landed in the midst of fresh Oynx Warriors not engaged in the fighting and were overwhelmed instantly.
Meanwhile, the Viragon gained a second wind and lashed out at Tara, causing her to backpedal clumsily. Gale instinctively opened fire with her Corman Rayguns, but watched in astonishment as the silvery woman dodged every blast. It also evaded expert slashes from the Pirate Queen’s sword, and even used her own arm to block a few.
“Damn it!” Gale swore, keeping her guns trained on the silvery being. “I can’t use any of the Modes this close to that thing!”
“Let’s go, Robot!” Mysta suddenly shouted. On her command, Robot gathered Mysta and Delecta in its arms and rocketed into the air towards the dais. Shoving Tara away, the Viragon gave aerial chase; however, both Gale and Tara managed to grab hold of the Marilyn Monroe facsimile before it took off over the warring multitude. They became a strange flying organism, a squirming mass of swinging silver arms, blasting golden pistols, and a flashing laser sword shifting about erratically in midair, threatening to crash several times. Yet the two blondes could not stop the Viragon from ripping open the bottom of its evening dress and parting its legs, unleashing a volley of missiles from a secret chamber best left mysterious. The deadly projectiles whistled as they sliced through the air towards Robot. But the artificial man dodged every explosion in an elegant airborne ballet and continued unperturbed to its destination.
“Stop!” Mysta unexpectedly screamed, halting all participants in the mid-air pursuit. “She is awake!”
“Who, Boss?” Gale shouted, visually confused.
The silver-haired nymph pointed towards the statue’s face with a trembling finger. “Fantomah.”
All eyes, artificial and real, followed the direction indicated by the universal genius. The ivory-haired enigma known only as Fantomah had indeed opened her eyes. But instead of human pupils, they were pure white and glowing, resembling twin miniature suns. Her face slowly melting into a terrifying skull, the jungle goddess began to struggle violently with the peculiar white tentacles ensnaring her limbs. At the base of the statue, a fearful Nagana began to back away slowly, hands held protectively before her face.
“She’s lost control…” Mysta reported, more to herself than the other spectators. “I…I deduced this would happen…but I hoped I would be wrong…”
“Isn’t that a good thing, my lady?” Tara said cheerfully. “If she’s some kind of goddess, sign her up right now!”
“You don’t understand.” The silver-tressed woman replied fearfully. “Fantomah…is an angry reality manipulator connected to a superscience machine powered by the spell of an ancient evil cosmic god. At this moment, her powers are at critical mass…the laws of nature and physics are about to be rendered fantasy…”
“So…she’s going all Anthony Fremont?!” Gale asked incredulously.
“Who?!” Tara inquired in an infuriated tone.
“The kid from that old Twilight Zone show.” Gale and the Viragon answered in unison. The golden blonde then pressed the barrel tip of one of her rayguns to the robot’s head, silencing it.
“You know, the kid that turned that man into a jack-in-the-box.” The Venusian continued. “He had this whole Earth town scared of him. He could make it snow, change pigs into monsters-”
Tara glanced over at Mysta and shook her head sadly. “And this was your candidate for field leader?”
But Mysta paid the space buccaneer no attention. Her usual cool composure was cracked by a look of overwhelming horror. “We…we have to go…escape…” she began with a whisper before rising to a near scream. “Robot Units, retrieve the Sentinels and retreat to the Atoma Fleet as quickly as possible!!”
“P-people!” Delecta wailed another word of Trans-Cosmos, making a pointless grab at her mind-controlled subjects below. But her piteous cry fell on deaf ears. Robot, along with its army of duplicates rocketed towards the rocky ceiling. Ironically, the Viragon joined them. However, reality began to unravel before the fleeing legions could make the journey halfway. Suddenly, the giant chamber vanished, replaced by a sky of numbers and a ground of peanut butter. Mysta, Tara, and Gale watched in horror as Robot transformed into a giant Venus Fly Trap and promptly swallowed Delecta. Mysta herself screamed as she was converted into a humanoid made of fire. Tara, on the other hand, made no sound as she was transformed into a human-sized ant.
Gale was the last one to change, becoming something most horrifying but simultaneously most beautiful. Helplessly, she watched as her entire body was transformed into a transparent diamond form.
And then a crack appeared on her arm. As she shattered, her world became white…
*****************************************************
She was awakened by something teasing her lips. Instinctively, she licked them and tasted sour apple lollipop. Catlike blue eyes snapped opened, but this time the surroundings greeting her were welcomed. The giant statue of Dr. Kort stood over her like a guardian against nightmares. Gale sat up and groaned, running her fingers through her golden locks. Feeling a supporting arm around her neck, she glanced over to find Amazona kneeling next to her, a sour green lollipop in her functioning right hand. They had somehow been returned to the foyer of the Citadel of Science.
“H-How long?” Gale wheezed.
“Have you been out or have we been here?” The Mighty Woman asked.
The Shrouded Planet Spacewoman simply nodded, indicating both.
“All I can say is that you were the last to wake up.” Amazona slowly helped her friend to shaky feet. “According to Mysta, Fantomah teleported all of us…including Delecta, thank goodness…back to the Citadel…back to a safe place. …but everyone is alright for the most part…nothing missing, nothing out of place…reality is reality again-”
“And the mountain?” Gale walked over to the sealed entrance with her hands clasped behind her back, staring pensively at Neil Armstrong’s footprints.
“Mysta checked with the Planiscope.” Amazona answered despondently. “Nothing. Mount Kilimanjaro is gone. As you can guess, Delecta took it pretty hard. She’s…she’s not the only one.”
The field leader of the Sentinels glanced over her shoulder at her teammate, an instinctive reassurance on the tip of her tongue. But it died a silent death spawned from guilt. Deep down, she hoped never to find the mountain, Nagana, or that inhuman bundle of rags that was Xhango. She knew it was horribly wrong to wish such a thing, especially with the millions of innocent Kaplanese still under the Queen of Evil’s thrall. But to confront the revelation of her lineage once again…physically or mentally…it would be too much for her to bear.
Then again, she was being what her new cousin had accused Moon Girl of at the final confrontation… a drama queen.
She laughed heartily at the epiphany, startling but reinvigorating the dispirited Amazona.
“Come on.” She beckoned the Arctic woman onward with an infectious grin. “It’s a long way to the Kaplan System. We have seven worlds to save!!”
Arm in arm, the two battered space heroines marched to the Challenger Chamber. On the invisible surround-sound loudspeakers, the final notes of John Williams’ Star Wars Overture, performed by the classic London Symphony Orchestra, drifted into a wonderfully inspirational oblivion.
THE END
Rally The Sentinels!
By M. Hadley
Whenever Mysta was extremely apprehensive, her eidetic memory unconsciously recalled historical failures comparable to the situation at hand. For example, if she was in a failing showdown with a stellar despot, she would be hounded by a similarity to the Burr-Hamilton Duel, mainly Alexander Hamilton’s unfortunate fate. Here, surrounded by a quickly growing mass of bizarre assailants, her mind bombarded her with the Three Hundred in the Battle of Thermopylae, Custer’s Little Bighorn, and the Five Hour War of New Atlantis – last stands where a small opposition fell against overwhelming enemy forces. The beautiful polymath quickly reined in her anxiety with Admiral Yi Sun-sin’s triumph in the Battle of Myeongnyang. Although she and her team had no chance in crushing Pax Xhangona that day, they could at least halt the resurrection of its horrible architect.
A muscular silver arm stretched out protectively before her, armed with a wrist-mounted glowing blue energy sword. The larger Robot bowed slightly over her, performing his eternal duty to the tune of Living Colour’s Cult of Personality (the reconstituted Atoma’s idea) broadcasting from his internal speakers. The silver-tressed woman looked up fondly into his face and winked. It was now time for Phase Two to begin.
Suddenly, in several places above the multitude, the craggy magma-veined ceiling exploded, heralding the arrival of several hundred duplicates of Robot (and the exponential increase of the song’s volume). Like a shell bombardment, the metal men crashed amongst the crowd, sending humans, animals, and dinosaurs flying about like living shrapnel. This quickly deteriorated into total chaos as the forces of Pax Xhangona fanatically rushed to kill the invaders. Yet, the evil Nagana was not deterred from her spellcasting; she continued to operate as if she was alone in the very vacuum of space.
Obviously stopping the ancient witch was her top priority. In her hand was the Electronic Converter Ray Pistol, an extremely powerful weapon of Mercurian design that could change the atomic arrangement of anything hit by its blasts. Making sure that none of the Sentinels were part of the immediate faction bearing down on her, she quickly squeezed the trigger. The Pistol sung shrilly as a yellow ray bathed the masked deviants, converting them into pillars of salt (NaCl) before they knew what was happening. Leaving her ubiquitous protector swarmed by Onyx Warriors, Mysta slipped through the gap between the pillars and raced blindly towards the Queen of Evil. She had to calculate the energy of the Pistol precisely…just a single flash to turn her immortal adversary into steam and the rest reserved to utilize the “Full Force Blast” and resurrect the unfortunate warriors just converted. She was thankful for this particular ability, as their limited microexpressions and body language told her that they were not attacking on their own volition. She also determined that they were of the Kaplan System in this manner.
A few rapid steps clear of the pillars awarded her with a view of Lion Woman and Gale, just seconds away from placing the squirming transparent horror on poor Delecta’s face. A flash of silver and Gale was suddenly gone. Another blur seconds later and a bewildered Lion Woman joined her. A shaken Queen Delecta fell to her knees, hyperventilating. She was attacked by her brainwashed subjects before Mysta could reach her side. Thankfully, Robot, ever the purveyor of the timely rescue, exploded out of the blue, scattering her assailants like tenpins.
“Your Majesty, I presume?” Mysta knelt down with Delecta, draping a comforting arm across her shoulders.
The galactic sovereign gasped an inquiry in her language.
The Maven of Information simply pointed in the air above the mayhem. Following the direction indicated, the Queen of the Planets watched as two floating Robot duplicates opened their chests, each “swallowing” a Sentinel in a portal of light. She rose to her feet, a hand clasped to her chest, concern etched on her face.
Mysta dismissed Delecta’s worry with a nonchalant wave. “There are nanomachines inside that will take care of those pesky motor control devices in their…garments. Also made a stop at the ‘gift shop’, so to speak…so they will be armed-”
Delecta suddenly threw her arms around Mysta and hugged her tightly.
“Your Majesty-” Mysta protested nervously, watching over the queen’s shoulder as Amazona, Moon Girl, and Tara emerged untouched from the battling hordes and blankly crept towards them. In rapid succession, the body-controlled Sentinels were each snatched up by a passerby Robot duplicate and shoved into the mysterious cavities in their chests. Telepathically ordering the original Robot to guard Delecta with its life, Mysta led the trio through a living labyrinth of clashing forces, towards the golden statue’s belly where Nagana was. However, the intrepid heroines soon found themselves stumbling wildly as the dais began to quake violently. An unintentional glance at the silver-haired genius’s feet stopped her instantly in her tracks. Literally, before her very eyes, a gigantic symbol was being engraved into the dais’s stony surface by an invisible hand. Telepathically connecting with the duplicate Robot units engaged in aerial combat above them, Mysta was instantly able to gain a bird’s eye view of the entire sign.
It was a pentagram in a circle with two overlapping sets of partial pentagrams, a trademark sigil from the terrible grimoire known as the Necronomicon. The particular symbol was the Sigil of the Gateway, used to summon cosmic horrors from beyond time and space.
All of a sudden, a powerful explosion was unleashed, hurling away both friend and foe. Luckily, Robot gently caught and shielded its mistress and Delecta from the worst of the shockwaves, using its feet rockets to land gently among the plummeting bodies. With the exception of the spellweaving Queen of Evil, the dais was cleared. However, a gigantic bubble of silver energy now encapsulated it and the golden statue in its entirety. The Onyx Warriors, their various jungle animals and dinosaurs returned to their collective feet and resumed the war with the Robots without skipping a beat. The trio of space guardians quickly found themselves surrounded by Nagana’s brainwashed minions.
“You think you could have brought a change of clothes.” Gale’s voice suddenly reached their ears. The golden blonde landed catlike before them, dropped from above by the flying Robot duplicate that had captured her earlier. She was still in her compulsory bra and g-string but with the added accessories of her twin red thigh holsters. As she drew her golden rayguns and twirled them like a Wild West cowboy, each signaled its activation with a computerized British voice droning a line.
“Tis but a scratch!” the left gun intoned.
“It’s just a flesh wound!” the right gun recited.
“I’m invincible!” they both exclaimed.
“When do you find the time to do stuff like that?” Amazona chided, rising from her own three-point landing. She was armed with only one golden heart-shaped knuckleduster on her right hand.
“Yeah, like you’re one to talk about embellishment…” Gale rolled her eyes playfully. “Every time you take a swing, you leave arching rainbows behind. Rainbows.”
“So the ban on witty banter is lifted?” Moon Girl skipped to a place between Gale and Amazona, giving the latter a peck on the cheek. Her Moonstone dangled around her neck, returned to its original ivory color.
“I thought that thing would stay red?” Amazona asked Moon Girl, visually confused. “We’re still in trouble here.”
The Girl of Moonlight shrugged. “But I know the extent of it now…I guess. Besides, how can I know if a new situation reared its ugly head if the Moonstone’s still red-?”
“How did you get my knives back?” Lion Woman quickly glanced at Mysta before protectively crouching before her, a crimson blade in each hand. Her right shoulder had been heavily bandaged while inside the Robot unit.
“One of Robot’s ‘brothers’.” Mysta answered. “Oh, and Sentinels….this is Lion Woman, part of the legendary Lion Man Dynasty and-”
“Caught your act.” Gale quickly nodded at her before returning her attention to the advancing host. “Welcome to the team and…to my family…cousin.”
“Have a lot of catching up to do if we get out of this…” Lion Woman grinned slightly.
“I see you took my idea after all.” Amazona commented cheerfully, snatching a glance of the lion tattoo outline on the darker woman’s back.
“It was a good call, old friend.” The Lady with the Golden Mane told her. “I’m trying to find time to get it finished…but with defending the savannah and now missions as a Sentinel...by the way, has anyone seen Koroo-?”
She was interrupted by a strange humming sound. Tara landed before the assemblage with her signature Atom Sword activated and a demented look on her beautiful face. She did not take her place among the others, however; instead, while screaming “NAGANA!” at the top of her lungs, the Queen of the Space Pirates raced like mad towards the onrushing horde.
“Tara, don’t kill anyone!” Mysta screamed from behind. “They are still innocent victims, not perpetrators!”
“So much for solidarity…” Gale chuckled. “And here I thought I could finally belt out our battle cry.”
“Which is?” All eyes, including those of Robot, fell on her.
The Venusian gunslinger coughed embarrassingly and nodded at the charging Onyx Warriors. “I’ll tell you when we get out of here.”
“Remember, our target is Nagana.” Mysta told them. “Incapacitate her and the rest will fall. I just need one shot to do the deed-”
Suddenly, the entire cavern shook, throwing all combatants into disarray once again. A deafening monstrous roar followed, radiating from the gigantic golden statue’s equally massive lips as they slowly parted. The emerald eyes that were guarding the slumbering Fantomah disappeared down the statue’s immense gullet, emerging in the interior of the stomach chamber. There they hovered around the head of the thing sitting at the stone table. At the same time, thick tentacles made of glowing white energy emerged from the statue’s mouth, ensnaring each limb of the nude jungle goddess.
“By Mars!” Moon Girl squealed in horror. “We’ve run out of time! The resurrection is upon us!”
“You’re being a drama queen!” Lion Woman forced a laugh. “We’re the Sentinels of the Universe! We won’t fail!”
“Let’s begin!” Mysta shouted. “Robot, you’re on point. Gale, you’re directly behind me and Lion Woman, and Delecta is your Number One priority. Amazona, back up Robot. Only Tara would appreciate the irony…thrusting our way through the mob, so to speak, just like a fencing maneuver!”
However, before the wondrous women (and Robot) could initiate their battle plan, their main opposition ripped through the crowd and stood before them: Gor, with a few of his primate ranks, and the giant serpent Shanri. The Viragon was the last of the line-up, floating down from the sky and landing before them. Yet, before a standoff could even be initiated, the false Marilyn Monroe let loose with an earsplitting screech and stared down at its chiseled bosom in horror. Between its silvery breasts, the tip of a laser rapier poked out and then retreated just as quickly. The artificial being collapsed to its knees, revealing Tara standing behind with a sadistic grin on her face.
Wordlessly, the rest of the Sentinels sprung into battle, overwhelming their uncanny adversaries with sheer bravado. Utilizing coordinated wrestling maneuvers such as dropkicks, clotheslines, and spinning elbows, the Mighty Woman and Lunar Lady easily dispatched the Gorilla King’s subordinates and fearlessly faced off against the giant primate himself. Simultaneously, Lion Woman attacked the Serpent Queen, stabbing her knives into the steely emerald scales of the bucking reptile and holding on like a participant in a rodeo. However, her serpentine enemy proved to be too strong and the ebony-skinned beauty was thrown a good distance into the fighting masses. Luckily, she was saved by Koroo, who slid between her legs like a steed in midair. However, they landed in the midst of fresh Oynx Warriors not engaged in the fighting and were overwhelmed instantly.
Meanwhile, the Viragon gained a second wind and lashed out at Tara, causing her to backpedal clumsily. Gale instinctively opened fire with her Corman Rayguns, but watched in astonishment as the silvery woman dodged every blast. It also evaded expert slashes from the Pirate Queen’s sword, and even used her own arm to block a few.
“Damn it!” Gale swore, keeping her guns trained on the silvery being. “I can’t use any of the Modes this close to that thing!”
“Let’s go, Robot!” Mysta suddenly shouted. On her command, Robot gathered Mysta and Delecta in its arms and rocketed into the air towards the dais. Shoving Tara away, the Viragon gave aerial chase; however, both Gale and Tara managed to grab hold of the Marilyn Monroe facsimile before it took off over the warring multitude. They became a strange flying organism, a squirming mass of swinging silver arms, blasting golden pistols, and a flashing laser sword shifting about erratically in midair, threatening to crash several times. Yet the two blondes could not stop the Viragon from ripping open the bottom of its evening dress and parting its legs, unleashing a volley of missiles from a secret chamber best left mysterious. The deadly projectiles whistled as they sliced through the air towards Robot. But the artificial man dodged every explosion in an elegant airborne ballet and continued unperturbed to its destination.
“Stop!” Mysta unexpectedly screamed, halting all participants in the mid-air pursuit. “She is awake!”
“Who, Boss?” Gale shouted, visually confused.
The silver-haired nymph pointed towards the statue’s face with a trembling finger. “Fantomah.”
All eyes, artificial and real, followed the direction indicated by the universal genius. The ivory-haired enigma known only as Fantomah had indeed opened her eyes. But instead of human pupils, they were pure white and glowing, resembling twin miniature suns. Her face slowly melting into a terrifying skull, the jungle goddess began to struggle violently with the peculiar white tentacles ensnaring her limbs. At the base of the statue, a fearful Nagana began to back away slowly, hands held protectively before her face.
“She’s lost control…” Mysta reported, more to herself than the other spectators. “I…I deduced this would happen…but I hoped I would be wrong…”
“Isn’t that a good thing, my lady?” Tara said cheerfully. “If she’s some kind of goddess, sign her up right now!”
“You don’t understand.” The silver-tressed woman replied fearfully. “Fantomah…is an angry reality manipulator connected to a superscience machine powered by the spell of an ancient evil cosmic god. At this moment, her powers are at critical mass…the laws of nature and physics are about to be rendered fantasy…”
“So…she’s going all Anthony Fremont?!” Gale asked incredulously.
“Who?!” Tara inquired in an infuriated tone.
“The kid from that old Twilight Zone show.” Gale and the Viragon answered in unison. The golden blonde then pressed the barrel tip of one of her rayguns to the robot’s head, silencing it.
“You know, the kid that turned that man into a jack-in-the-box.” The Venusian continued. “He had this whole Earth town scared of him. He could make it snow, change pigs into monsters-”
Tara glanced over at Mysta and shook her head sadly. “And this was your candidate for field leader?”
But Mysta paid the space buccaneer no attention. Her usual cool composure was cracked by a look of overwhelming horror. “We…we have to go…escape…” she began with a whisper before rising to a near scream. “Robot Units, retrieve the Sentinels and retreat to the Atoma Fleet as quickly as possible!!”
“P-people!” Delecta wailed another word of Trans-Cosmos, making a pointless grab at her mind-controlled subjects below. But her piteous cry fell on deaf ears. Robot, along with its army of duplicates rocketed towards the rocky ceiling. Ironically, the Viragon joined them. However, reality began to unravel before the fleeing legions could make the journey halfway. Suddenly, the giant chamber vanished, replaced by a sky of numbers and a ground of peanut butter. Mysta, Tara, and Gale watched in horror as Robot transformed into a giant Venus Fly Trap and promptly swallowed Delecta. Mysta herself screamed as she was converted into a humanoid made of fire. Tara, on the other hand, made no sound as she was transformed into a human-sized ant.
Gale was the last one to change, becoming something most horrifying but simultaneously most beautiful. Helplessly, she watched as her entire body was transformed into a transparent diamond form.
And then a crack appeared on her arm. As she shattered, her world became white…
*****************************************************
She was awakened by something teasing her lips. Instinctively, she licked them and tasted sour apple lollipop. Catlike blue eyes snapped opened, but this time the surroundings greeting her were welcomed. The giant statue of Dr. Kort stood over her like a guardian against nightmares. Gale sat up and groaned, running her fingers through her golden locks. Feeling a supporting arm around her neck, she glanced over to find Amazona kneeling next to her, a sour green lollipop in her functioning right hand. They had somehow been returned to the foyer of the Citadel of Science.
“H-How long?” Gale wheezed.
“Have you been out or have we been here?” The Mighty Woman asked.
The Shrouded Planet Spacewoman simply nodded, indicating both.
“All I can say is that you were the last to wake up.” Amazona slowly helped her friend to shaky feet. “According to Mysta, Fantomah teleported all of us…including Delecta, thank goodness…back to the Citadel…back to a safe place. …but everyone is alright for the most part…nothing missing, nothing out of place…reality is reality again-”
“And the mountain?” Gale walked over to the sealed entrance with her hands clasped behind her back, staring pensively at Neil Armstrong’s footprints.
“Mysta checked with the Planiscope.” Amazona answered despondently. “Nothing. Mount Kilimanjaro is gone. As you can guess, Delecta took it pretty hard. She’s…she’s not the only one.”
The field leader of the Sentinels glanced over her shoulder at her teammate, an instinctive reassurance on the tip of her tongue. But it died a silent death spawned from guilt. Deep down, she hoped never to find the mountain, Nagana, or that inhuman bundle of rags that was Xhango. She knew it was horribly wrong to wish such a thing, especially with the millions of innocent Kaplanese still under the Queen of Evil’s thrall. But to confront the revelation of her lineage once again…physically or mentally…it would be too much for her to bear.
Then again, she was being what her new cousin had accused Moon Girl of at the final confrontation… a drama queen.
She laughed heartily at the epiphany, startling but reinvigorating the dispirited Amazona.
“Come on.” She beckoned the Arctic woman onward with an infectious grin. “It’s a long way to the Kaplan System. We have seven worlds to save!!”
Arm in arm, the two battered space heroines marched to the Challenger Chamber. On the invisible surround-sound loudspeakers, the final notes of John Williams’ Star Wars Overture, performed by the classic London Symphony Orchestra, drifted into a wonderfully inspirational oblivion.
THE END