Paraworld Zero (18 page)

    In the center of the room stood a white pillar with a single computer console
attached to it. A short man with glasses and an ugly brown suit typed busily at the console. He
turned and asked, “May I help you?”

    “You sure can,” Griffen said in an irritable tone.

    He got to his feet and started to rush towards the man, but after a few
paces, he felt his body lean so far to the right that he fell over. The warrior stood up and
tried to balance himself, but he fell again. The wild tube ride had taken its toll on his
body.

    Standing up one more time, he brushed off the dizziness and limped over to
the console. It was so dark in the room that he kept bumping into the round metallic balls that
littered the floor. Without warning, he thrust his sword right into the man’s stomach.

    “This is just the lowest setting,” Griffen informed him as he twisted the
sword around. “Just imagine how painful this would be if I were to increase the density
level.”

    The computer technician moaned, “What do you want?”

    “How did you destroy that moon?”

    “I can’t tell you
THAT!
”

    The density of the sword increased ever so slightly, causing the man to
double over. Griffen held him up against the pillar and whispered in his ear, “Tell me, have you
ever had the molecules in your body scream out in pain?” Steam rose from the insertion point of
the transparent blade. “My patience is wearing thin. Either you tell me how you destroyed that
moon or I—”

    He stopped in midsentence and stared at the computer screen. A schematic of a
holographic robot flashed across the monitor.

    “What is that?” Griffen asked, nodding towards the console.

    “That’s my own creation,” the man responded with a great deal of pride in his
voice. “Fully functioning holodroids. You’re looking at the future of modern warfare.”

    A startling voice came from behind. “Excuse me.”

    Griffen spun around, tearing the blade from the technician’s body, and sliced
his sword into the chest of the person who had just spoken. Without even flinching, the man
stepped forward and revealed himself to be Captain Drackus—or at least, the holographic image of
Captain Drackus.

    “Who are you?” the captain asked calmly.

    “Griffen Lasher, ambassador of the Crown. I’ve been sent to keep the
peace—”

    “An ambassador?” Captain Drackus asked skeptically. “Then tell me, sir, if
you really were sent on a mission of peace, why exactly are you killing my men?”

    “My blade has never taken a life. I only incapacitated your men.”

    “Interesting… a displacement sword,” the captain mused while inspecting the
blade that was still embedded in his chest. “I’ve never seen one before. Such a pity that a
marvelous weapon such as this is in the hands of a coward.”

    Griffen tightened his face, appalled. “Coward?”

    “Yes,” he said. “Only a coward would refuse to use the full potential of the
technology in which he possesses.”

    “Only a fool would use technology to destroy a helpless planet,” Griffen shot
back.

    “Oh, you must be referring to that terrible incident that my colleagues were
involved in last year.” Any indication of contrition in his voice was merely a facade. “What was
that drab world called, anyway? Oh, yes—
Marmasuel.
”

    “That was my parallel world,” Griffen said with clenched teeth. “The Raiders
killed millions of people. In fact, I haven’t seen a single person from my race since the
incident
.”

    “Oh. Well, I’m dreadfully sorry for your loss. However, when I instructed my
men to destroy your planet, I told them to annihilate every man, woman, and child. I suppose they
missed one.”

    The captain moved effortlessly away from the sword. That’s when Griffen
realized the holographic projection was coming from one of the silvery balls, which now floated a
couple inches off the ground.

    “You’re the filthy swine who destroyed my planet?” Griffen yelled, his rage
starting to consume him. “You sadistic animal!”

    “Yes, well, your people were a threat to our advancement.”

    “My planet was peaceful! We never even fought amongst ourselves.”

    “Oh, we weren’t afraid of ever fighting you—a world full of religious monks,”
Captain Drackus explained coldly. “No, it’s
what you can do
that scared us.”

    “I’ll show you what I can do!”

    Griffen lashed out with his sword, but the hologram was left unscathed.

    
“Please—stop—that tickles,” Drackus said in jest.

    Griffen slashed at the silver ball and split it in two. As soon as the
hologram disappeared, the lights in the room turned on, one section at a time. Griffen’s mouth
hung open as he beheld thousands of metallic orbs—all about the size of soccer balls—scattered
about the room

    “You’re gonna get it now.” The technician chuckled as he tapped furiously at
the computer console.

    All at the same time, a sea of identical holodroids materialized from the
spheres. Griffen watched in horror as a small compartment opened up from within each metal ball,
revealing a handgun. In sync, each holodroid reached down and took its weapon.

    The technician laughed unpleasantly as the enormous wave of holographic
images pointed their guns at Griffen.

    “Oh,
shoot
!”

    Griffen snatched a small device from his belt and activated it. The device
expanded to form an energy shield—just in time to absorb the storm of lasers. Protected by the
shield, the impact threw him across the floor. Friendly fire destroyed most of the spheres nearby.

    Griffen scrambled for the transportation tube, holding his shield behind him
as he ran. Suddenly, he felt a searing pain run up his body as multiple lasers pierced his legs.
The warrior slid across the floor, carried by the momentum of his own weight.

    Knowing that he’d never make it to the exit, he adjusted the shield so that
it expanded over his entire body. Wave after wave of lasers pelted the force field—weakening it
with every blow. Griffen tapped some buttons on the little device, and the lasers started to
ricochet off the shield, causing dozens of spheres to explode all around him.

    Despite his efforts, Griffen could see that the battle was hopeless; for
every sphere he destroyed, ten more took its place. Even worse, his defenses were failing. A red
light on the device flicked on and off, signifying the almost depleted energy of the force
field.

    He heard a rumbling sound coming from the far wall. The floor vibrated as a
yellow tidal wave of lightning split the room in half, tossing the droids everywhere. Hundreds of
round balls crashed against the ceiling like bowling pins, breaking most of the lights.

    From within the chaos emerged a sole figure. Dark in appearance and
foreboding, he walked slowly through the rubble. The whole army of holodroids turned their guns
and fired at the mysterious man, but, surprisingly, the lasers dissipated in the air before
reaching him.

    Griffen watched in awe as the man manipulated the magical waves in the room
to do his bidding. Spheres on both sides of the ultramage melted as he walked past them. Surely
the entire ship did not contain this much E.M. energy—let alone the room! A seasoned magician
like Griffen would have sensed it.

    “Thank you,” Griffen said, massaging his wounds.

    It was too dark to make out the stranger’s face, especially because he hid
behind a black cloak.

    The man stood above the fallen warrior for a moment or two, as if
contemplating the situation. Then, without warning, he brought out both hands from his cloak. The
last thing Griffen saw was two wands emitting a painful blast of energy that penetrated his
shield and struck him in the chest.

    The dark ultramage turned to see the technician peering from behind the
console. Completely terrified, the short man made a run for the exit, but he didn’t get very far
before he was hit in the back by an evil spell. He screamed for only a second as the magic ripped
the molecules from his body. Soon, he was gone entirely.

    The holodroids continued to fire relentlessly at the ultramage, but none of
the lasers made contact. The dark man threw something down at his feet, and a puff of smoke
appeared. Just then, Captain Drackus—the real Captain Drackus—rushed into the room with a group
of men.

    “Stop!” he yelled at the holodroids. “I said
STOP!
”

    A laser blast grazed his arm.

    “
STOP FIRING, YOU IDIOTS!
”

    The holodroids froze. Fuming with anger, Drackus ran to the droid that had
shot him, picked up the metal orb, and smashed it against the wall. He then pulled out his gun
and destroyed another sphere nearby.

    “Charles!” he boomed.

    A short, balding man ran to his side.

    “Yes, sir?”

    “I want you to recalibrate their aiming algorithms.” He kicked one of the
holodroids, and it went spinning down the room, bumping into its companions like a pinball. “When
they fire their weapons,” he growled, pointing to his bloodied shirt sleeve, “I expect them to
shoot to kill!”

    “Pardon me, sir,” Charles said, “but I’m not the one who wrote the weapons
subroutine. I’m in charge of the physical traits division. If you’ll remember, it was I who
discovered how to manipulate the photonic energy so the droids could carry weapons. That aspect
works perfectly. In fact—”

    “Then who wrote the weapons program?” Drackus interrupted.

    “George,” the technician said. “George wrote it… Where is he, anyway?”

    Captain Drackus prodded a brown, smoldering suit on the ground with his foot.
“It appears that your brother has been vaporized.” His voice lacked any trace of sympathy.

    Horrified, Charles knelt down at the pile of burnt clothing and sobbed. He
picked up a pair of broken glasses from the ground and held them tightly in his hands.

    “You’re now in charge of the weapons division,” Captain Drackus informed the
technician. “I want those droids shooting straight.” The captain looked across the barren
room—searching intently for any sign of Griffen—and asked in a puzzled voice, “Now where did he
go?”

Chapter 12
    

    

    Simon slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the darkness. Thorn
snored loudly across the room, and a faint breeze rustled the drapes at the window. He rolled
quietly onto his hover chair and activated the armrests as he sat down.

    Trying to be as quiet as possible, Simon maneuvered his way through the
bedroom and started down the dark, ominous hallway. A creaking sound from somewhere in the house
caused his heart to race. Panicked, Simon froze in place and held his breath… Nothing. He started
to breathe again, but his breaths were short and forced.

    
Quiet, Simon
, he told himself.
You must be quiet
.

    A moment later, he calmed himself—enough to make his way through the hallway
once more.

    He emerged into the dining room, where he had spent quite a few nights
laboring to eat the strange concoctions that Little Har had created for the family. Simon
shuddered involuntarily. He then turned his attention to the mantelpiece.

    When he squinted his eyes, he could almost make out the smiling faces of Dr.
Troodle and his wife—as well as Thornapple, Tonya, and himself. He inched his way closer to the
pictures. A bright flame suddenly appeared in the fireplace. Simon jerked backwards, away from
the motion sensor, and the fire died out.

    Clutching his chest with one hand and the joystick of the hover chair with
the other, Simon moved to the opposite wall. He slowly opened the door so it wouldn’t squeak and
entered the next room with caution.

    There were no windows in the room, which made it difficult to see anything at
all. Simon eased his way forward until he bumped into something hard.

    “Is that you?” he whispered hoarsely.

    There was no answer. The boy started to breathe hard. His veins flowed with
adrenaline, making him jumpy and uneasy—as though he were doing something illegal.

    A thick, giant hand curled itself around his shoulder from behind.

    “Si-moan,” came a slow, deep voice.

    “Har, you almost scared me to death!”

    “Sorry,” the big Pud said. “Si-moan hungry?”

    “I sure am! What have you got for me tonight?”

    The large boy uncovered a plate and revealed what looked like a peanut butter
and jelly sandwich, except the green jelly was slightly luminescent in the dark.