M. Hadley Presents: The Emperor In The Mountain
Posted: Mon Jun 08, 2015 2:27 pm
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.
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.