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Flash Bites the Big One
NIGHT was a frequent but not a routine phenomenon on Mongo. In other words, the cosmic whirlpool often sucked in dark clouds of space gas which, as it penetrated the radioactive mists between the whirlpool and the calm eye, prevented the mists’ irradiation from reaching the Mongian system. These same mists, forever fed by the constant stream of matter, had also provided the birthplace of this system, untold eons ago. They protected the system, allowing only an infinitesimal fraction to pass through (though this was an enormous amount in human terms).It was during one of these nights—which the scientists had been able to predict for thousands of years with some degree of accuracy—that Barin, Prince of the Tree Men, stood in the shadows on a terrace overlooking the courtyard where grotesque, hunchbacked dwarfs erected the chamber wherein Flash was to be executed. Where does Ming get these people? Barin thought as he watched the blackness move across the barren landscape like an evil manifestation. I suppose someone like Ming has to take the kind of help he can get. But he was only, too aware of Ming’s methods of securing labor; he merely disliked admitting, even to himself, that he knew. He also disliked admitting that the vast, open spaces of Mongo unnerved him; he did not feel safe beneath the naked sky. He much preferred the claustrophobic, sweltering forests of his home moon. Though the space gas effectively cooled down the Mongian atmosphere, he felt perspiration on his forehead. An especially salty drop ran down his nose.
With a grim beauty, the blackness moved across a mountain capped with a forest of crystals, their rainbow reflection of the cosmic light sleeping with the finality of death itself. The scene inspired Barin to make many pessimistic philosophical observations to himself, mostly about the futility of personal accomplishments and initiatives, observations that he completely forgot about when he felt the familiar, warm fingers of Aura, daughter of Ming the Merciless, Rightful Ruler of the Universe, investigate the shape of his muscular thigh. He turned and embraced her, feeling her yielding soft breasts through the barriers of their clothing. He kissed her. He nibbled her ear. Long ago, he had complained (but only to himself) about how her mere presence caused him to lose all pretense of rationality, how her very scent caused him to forget his responsibilities to his people—and to himself. Now he gladly acquiesced to her spell. His pleasure in living entirely for the moment was mitigated only by the fear that the acquiescence was not mutual. “Your bedchamber at midnight,” he whispered into the delicate folds of her ear.
Aura winced, whether at his suggestion or at the sensation of his tongue in her ear, he could not be sure. She clarified the issue, however, by stating, “I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh? I know how executions excite you.”
She shrugged and frowned as if accepting the inescapable truth of his remark. Heartened, feeling the time was ripe to carry out his boldest strategies, he nuzzled her and moved his hands into all sorts of susceptible areas. As he planned, she groaned, relaxing her muscles—a prelude to yielding herself to the desires which rose to the surface of her being at the slightest provocation. Then she pushed him away. And none too gently. “I said not tonight!”
Glad she could not see his expression in the darkness of the terrace, Barin bit his lower lip. He did not want her to know how her refusal made him suffer. “You’re impossible.”
“I can’t resist it; I’ve changed my mind. You’re such a . . . such a perfect soldier.” She moved into his arms. “You’re . . . you’re always standing at attention.”
She kissed him with a furious passion.
“Fly back to your kingdom. You may see me sooner than you think,” she said, her fingers searching out Barin’s susceptible areas.
“You’ll come to Arboria?”
“If you fly there tonight. Right now.”
“But the Emperor has commanded everyone to see the execution.”
Aura stepped away and turned her back. He watched the blackness cover the last vestiges of illumination in the horizon. “I don’t care what you do,” she said. “It makes no difference to me.”
“You’re so hard to trust,” he said, refastening his trousers.
Flash awoke in darkness. He felt the chains digging into his wrists, his toes straining to hold his weight on the slimy dungeon floor. From the volume of sounds and their echoes, he deduced he hung in the dungeon’s center. He heard creatures scurrying, the groaning of other prisoners, the wielding of instruments of torture by silent guards who, doubtlessly, went about their work with an inhuman detachment. Flash did not have to see to know he had been stripped to leather briefs.
He heard the scraping of metal shoes against the floor, the rustling of robes. The scraping and rustling ceased. A disinterested voice said, “You refused your final meal. The chef is very upset.” It was Klytus. “I hope it’s not the quality of the food.”
Though he knew his voice would be muffled by the spiked hood Ming’s boys had put over his head, Flash replied as loud as he could. “Your food sucks!”
“Oh dear, oh dear,” said Klytus without concern. “The chef will have to be executed for this. It’s a shame. You were wise, actually. The gas will act quicker on your empty stomach. Have you any final request?”
“Let me see Dale!”
“Of course. How predictable. How droll.” Klytus clapped his hands, creating a hollow clanking noise. “Bring in the Emperor’s concubine!”
Flash struggled mightily—almost childishly—against his bonds. Previously, he had concentrated on placing the flow of his strength in one wrist so as to facilitate pulling a chain from the ceiling in an orgy of spiritual oneness. Now there was no manner of reason to his efforts. He could not free himself, he could not yank the hood from his head; yet he struggled. “Damn you! I said I want to see her!”
He heard electricity sizzling through the atmosphere; the hood flew off his head and landed in a dark corner, breaking the ends of two spikes. Klytus had lowered his hand and placed the device which had removed the hood into his robes before Flash’s eyes could adjust to the dull dungeon light.
Dale turned to Klytus.
“You have until the sand runs up.” Klytus walked to a shelf and inverted a large hourglass. The sand ran upward from the partially filled bottom to the empty top. With his metal hands concealed in his sleeves, Klytus stood with his mask directed toward the Earthlings, but something in his manner indicated he was totally uninterested in anything they might say or do.
“No kidding, you look great,” said Flash, exulting in the cool sensation of Dale’s palm against his cheek.
“It’s the eye make-up. I hope I remember the trick when I wake up.”
“I’ll be darned. That’s exactly what I was going to tell you.”
Dale’s eyes fluttered. “What?”
“This isn’t happening. We’re not here. It’s just a bad dream.”
“We’ll wake up in Dark Harbor any minute and have a laugh about this.”
“Only next time I won’t just ask the host your name, I’ll walk over and talk to you.”
“You promise?” asked Dale, placing her palms on his chest.
“I promise. Cross my heart and hope to . . .” Flash winced. “I’ll really talk to you.
“What if we’re wrong, Flash?”
“We can’t be.”
“What if this isn’t a dream?”
Flash hesitated. “It’s easy. You’ll find Zarkov, save the Earth, and he’ll take you back in the capsule.”
“But what about you?”
“Don’t think of me. It’s pretty plain that one life or even a love as great as ours doesn’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy, mixed-up universe. We gotta fight for what’s right if we’re ever going to make sense out of this confusing, deterministic existence, and if necessary, we gotta die for it. That’s just the way it is, and there’s nothing we can do about it. So don’t think of me, baby, think of the Earth. She needs you now.”
“She’s a zillion miles away. Maybe farther!
“Bring it close in your head, Dale. Think of the Earth every minute and forget me.”
“Forget you?” Her tears immediately followed one another as she stared into his face. Suddenly she shivered, and she looked at the hourglass. “You bastard, Klytus! You’re making the sands flow faster!”
“I am truly sorry,” said Klytus, unable to muster an iota of sincerity. “But I just remembered an important appointment.”
Dale rushed to the hourglass and attempted to lift it.
When she realized her efforts were doomed to failure, despite the fact that Klytus had lifted it with ease, she beat upon the unbreakable glass with her fists. Finally she was unable to strike it due to the spasms racking her body, spasms caused by her crying. She ran to Flash and embraced him. Her tears dropped from her face and onto his stomach.
Beyond the glass chamber and apparatus the hunchbacked dwarfs had built was a large terrace overlooking one of the most beautiful sights of the Mongian city—the pits of radioactive material (the radiation was virtually harmless) tapped to supply power. At various points throughout the terrace were stone vases holding glittering crystals of a variety of shapes and colors, standing in black soil. Barin and Aura had overlooked this scene when the space gas had brought the darkness to Mongo. Still, there were flecks of color in the sky.
Wearing a black gown and an ornate gold headdress, Aura stood near the chamber and watched as a few members of the court chatted and milled about. Her arms folded across her stomach, she stuck out her lower lip, an indication she was in a fiery, rebellious mood. She said nothing, she acknowledged no one. Her thoughts were mysterious, even to herself. She did not notice the Imperial Presence of her father until he had been standing next to her for several moments. “Father! You startled me!”
“Klytus wants me for himself! His agents are always making up lies about me!”
“And why is that, Daughter?” His voice was grave, even for him.
Aura knew only the truth would suffice. “Your power potions and your communions with the mystical essence of the universe won’t keep you alive forever, Father. One day I will succeed you, as is my destiny and my right. And what of Klytus then? He merely plans for his future. He is well advised to, though he does so ill-advisedly,”
Ming placed his hand on her shoulder. Three of his fingers rested on bare skin, and as usual the touch of his ever-cold rings sent involuntary shivers through her, shivers she controlled with minimal success. “I’ve brought you up well, Aura. You’re so much like me.”
She did not trust the fondness in his voice; it was the result of natural love or the natural desire of an emperor to dissuade his children from hastening the future. “Father, we haven’t been close enough the last few years. Perhaps we should remedy the situation.”
“Oh?” She did not have to see her father’s eyebrow to know he had raised it.
“I’ve missed the security of your company and the thrill of private moments when you drop your reserve and demonstrate your love for me.”
Ming rubbed his beard. “Yes, I freely admit I have missed that closeness between us as well. When I am through with this Dale Arden—I do not believe it will take very long—we shall strip down to our essences and I will tie you to my royal bed and I shall flog you senseless, until the blood flows from the wounds on your pert buttocks, just as we did during happier, more innocent days.”
“Oh yes, Father, yes!”
He took her right hand and kissed it tenderly. “And who can say? Perhaps your spanking shall be but the beginning.”
Her voice possessed a huskiness she had not quite planned on. “Yes, Father, that would be wonderful.”
By now virtually the entire court, silent and still, awaited the execution. The presence of death was very familiar to Aura, but she savored its sensation as never before. Her mind reeled at the plots she had hatched, the games she played, not for personal reward, not for power, not for sexual satisfaction (though that played its usual important supporting role), but for the purpose of alleviating the dreadful boredom that was more like a disease than a habit.
Aura watched with interest the other two Earthlings, Dale and Zarkov, as they stood on a level above their companion’s path, flanked by two lamellar-clad soldiers, behind unbreakable, soundproof glass. She could not restrain a smile as the Earth woman became hysterical, displaying an unseemly weakness, and beat her ineffectual fists upon the glass until she collapsed on the floor, her body racked by the force of her sobbing. The scientist, for the most part, concealed his fear and pain; awkwardly, he knelt and picked her up. He embraced her, caressing her hair, as she sobbed on his chest.
“It’s a sign of their weakness,” replied Ming. She understood a fraction of the thrill of victory illuminating Ming’s existence.
Ming would not have felt so satisfied if his science had permitted him to peer into Flash’s heart.
Other than his being extremely distraught at the sight of Dale’s overpowering grief for him, Flash was a man at peace with the universe. His only regrets were the deeds he had not accomplished, the love he had not fulfilled, the life he had wasted. Yet these debt’s did not seem significant in the wake of what he had accomplished and the love he had experienced. In fact, he was filled with the joys of love and happiness of life. Glad that he had lived, he faced the end without fear. He could not even find it in his heart to hate Ming. Though he would not have helped the son-of-a-bitch if he had seen him with a broken leg lying over a track with a pneumatic vehicle rapidly approaching, his heart remained free of the evil seeds of hatred.
The doors to the chamber opened.
A slow drumbeat began.
Unseen by all, Ming’s excitement caused him to grasp Aura’s hand.
The guards escorted Flash into the chamber. They strapped his chest and legs into the chair, freed him of the cuffs, and tied down his arms. They lowered a black hood over his face and then quickly exited.
As the door closed, a hunchbacked dwarf walked from the wings and aimed a device which emanated a red ray, causing the molecules of the door and the chamber proper to travel across the crack and bind themselves together, creating an impervious seal.
As the dwarf scurried back into the wings, Klytus walked out, holding a black handkerchief. He stopped beside the chamber, then looked at Ming.
Ming nodded. Klytus dropped the handkerchief.
A technician offstage pushed buttons and pulled levers.
A purple vapor totally obscured Flash. The people of the court applauded politely, and Aura felt a funny little tingling throughout her entire body.
Ming, on the other hand, threw back his head and laughed. Flash Gordon was dead!
To Be Continued Tomorrow at Seduction of the Innocent!!
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