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“Prisoner on Warworld”
SHOWCASE #30 - October, Year Five by Steve Crosby

Once, I could fly. No, more than that. I could fly through space. The distance between suns was as nothing to me. Oxygen, food, water, everything I required to survive was provided by the energy of suns. This energy gave me so much more besides. Somehow I could travel faster than light and maintain my solid matter form. Much faster. Journeys that should take thousands of years would take me weeks. There was nowhere I couldn’t go.

    Now I sat in a small room, really a cell, unable to go anywhere. My eyes and ears couldn’t even penetrate beyond the walls, another power granted to me by suns. They had me trapped, with nothing to do but wait until my captors needed to see me again. And they would. I knew that for a fact.

    As to how much time passed I could only speculate. Like me, the vessel was capable of faster than light travel. It was nearly a week, I suspected, before my cell door opened and men grabbed me roughly. Due to the weaker gravity I was still strong and fast, more than capable of fighting those men off and making an escape. But for the sake of countless worlds, I needed to stay.

    Long corridors led me to a central control station of some kind. Inside were the two in charge, one of whom unable to control herself. A blow from a creature much stronger than I sent me to the ground. Warm blood dripped from my mouth. I could barely think as a meaty hand took hold of the back of my head, encompassing my entire head, and lifted me off the floor.

    “You lied to us,” a grotesque and raspy, yet clearly female, voice snarled. “We have gone where you said, and Earth is not here.”

    Her name was Mongal, and the virtually identical male that I now faced was brother Mongul. Their father of the same name had raped their mother, and brought to her planet a disease that only the two babes had survived against. These were facts I would learn later. At the time all I knew was that two siblings ruled a dyson sphere-ship designed for war and they wanted to find Earth for the purpose of destroying it. In exchange for my life I had agreed to give them Earth’s location, common knowledge on Daxam since the Invasion.

    Mongul slammed his fist into my gut. His sister dropped me, and I fell to the ground again, with more than blood gushing out of my mouth.

    “If you cannot give us the location of Earth than you are useless to us.”

    A heavy foot smashed into my face. Briefly I flew, until I struck the wall and crashed to the floor again. Through the haze of pain I managed to speak.

    “This was only the first stop. My path to Earth…” I struggled onto my hands and knees. “You will reach Earth without passing close to other systems. That is my condition for taking you to Earth. Take it or leave it.”

    Murderous despots do not enjoy ultimatums. Their massive fists laid blows down on me. Even fully powered, I would have been hard pressed to stand against them. Powerless, I was helpless against the beating. Afterwards, an order was given, and I was dragged away, thrown back into my cell.

    I lay with my back against the wall for untold hours. As the bruises settled they became more painful. It wasn’t a miracle that nothing had been broken. Like all Daxamites and Kryptonians, my cellular structure was remarkably dense, meant for survival on high-gravity worlds.

    Fully charged, any wounds I suffered would have been gone in hours. It took another day for the bruises to fade completely. That was when they returned, taking me from the cell and into a room of star charts. I recognized the Sol System from maps on Daxam, but was careful not to give this away. If given a straight path, they would take it, and devastate dozens of stars.

    Mongal stood with her back to the charts, her brother facing them. She approached me, sneered down her nose at me. “It took us a long time, my brother and I, to prepare this vessel for battle.”

    Prepare. So they did not create the sphere-ship themselves. Whatever the situation, I had to listen, watch, learn whatever I could.

    “What you witnessed at the black-hole was our final test of this ship’s capabilities. What we have is the power to devastate systems by our very proximity, the power to annihilate all opponents. Once Earth has fallen, none will be able to stand against us.”

    Very many peoples held Earth in high value. Odd for a planet of divided civilizations with no widespread space capability. But it was really the heroes that everybody feared, and Superman above all. The entire reason they followed me from the black hole was because they had thought me to be Superman. Oh, the hatred they seem to have for the man. Apparently he had been an enemy of their mad father.

    “Daxam was involved in an invasion of Earth,” Mongal continued. “You are a Daxamite, so you must know where Earth is. That knowledge is the only reason you live. I will allow you your games, little Daxamite, only because it proves that you do not want us wandering the galaxy, destroying other worlds in our search. Now, point us to the next stop.”

    Calmly, I rose to my feet, shaking off the sentries on either side. Without a look at her I walked past Mongal, towards her brother Mongul. I pointed to a spot on the chart, and Mongul marked it.

    “And the next?”

    I did nothing. Mongul’s backhand sent me across the room. In struggling to rise, I observed that Mongal was smiling.

    “It was worth a try.” If I had given them the whole pattern, they would have just skipped to the end. To the sentries Mongal said, “Return him to his cell. Until next time.”

    The sentries were advancing. I had to speak then or not at all. “Wait. I have one more condition.”

    Mongul started towards me. His fists were clenched and the annoyance was plain on his face. His sister was merely amused, however. “Hold, brother. There is no harm in listening.”

    “On this ship,” I began. “With no access to the sun, I am powerless, no threat to you. There is no need to keep me in a cell when this…this entire Warworld is my prison. I simply ask to spend the time between each stop in relative freedom, able to explore this sphere.”

    Mongul’s response came first, a backhand that threw me to the ground. “Not explore. You mean to view our strengths and weaknesses, in the hopes of somehow thwarting us.”

    Yes, of course they would have seen my intentions. I had neither the time nor the skill to disguise my motivation. All I possessed at that time was desperation, and the hope that they wouldn’t care.

    “And because we know this, brother,” said Mongal, “We can forbid him from the more sensitive components of our vessel. There really is nothing to fear in letting this weak Daxamite view the full scope of our awesome power.”

    Gruffly, Mongul acquiesced. “Very well. But chaperoned, of course.” A malicious sneer split the monster’s face. “Until we’ve found someone suitable, you will be returned to your cell.”

    So they threw me back into the box with nothing to do except feel my bruises form. That and think, reflect on how I got there. Not as a prisoner of Warworld, which was the result of a failed head-on assault, but the larger events. Free in space, there was always much to occupy my mind, the contemplation of everything I observed. Finally I was alone with my thoughts and the actions of my past. The mother I saved only to kill, the planet nearly destroyed and the Daxamites I murdered to preserve that planet.

    All because of the serum I had developed, though since my encounter with Vril Dox I’ve wondered about that. My store of anti-lead serum had been taken when I became a prisoner, but that time I gave no thought as to how I was still alive. Later I simply decided that the added ingredient of Kryptonite had indeed made the serum’s effects permanent. Until then, I’d been too scared to risk being wrong.

    I thought also about other races and heroes I had encountered. A collection of heroes that served as a Licensed Extra-Governmental Interstellar Operatives Network, or LEGION, had tried arresting me for my crimes. Prince Gavyn, Adam Strange and Mikaal Tomas had been the first I warned about the Warworld. Hopefully they had spread the warnings, was creating a resistance against this threat.

    Hope was not all I could do. There were goals to be met, and time to achieve them. Time I was buying with the promise of Earth’s destruction, and I prayed to Rao would not come to that. Tomorrow, I will see what can be done with my- the cell door opened, interrupting my train of thought. It was Mongul, come with an answer perhaps? From the sadistic grin on that dead face, I did not think so.

    “You think you have won a small victory today,” Mongul stated to me. “I will show you otherwise.” The cell door closed behind Mongul as he entered. It would not open again for nearly an hour. When Mongul emerged, he was chuckling. “Your chaperone will arrive in five hours. I suggest you clean yourself up.”

    I was unable to make a response from my position, lying facedown in two pools of my own blood. That was the moment I had decided to kill Mongul.


My escort arrived several hours later as expected. By then I had somewhat recovered from my injuries, only to become shocked at the sight of a woman with two heads. To her credit, only one of the woman’s heads frowned in disapproval of my reaction. The other one simply smiled.

    “Hi,” the smiling head in the left said. “We’re your escorts, Dyla and Frinn.”

    “Yes, of course.” I cautiously offered my hand. “Please forgive my reaction. I’ve seen many strange things on my travels, but…”

    “A freak with two heads is too much for you, huh?” asked the one on the right. I made the assumption that this was Frinn, and the other Dyla. They never referred to each other by name, so this was never verified. “Don’t worry about it. We only get that reaction, well, never. Everybody here’s used to us.”

    “Used, but not quite accepting.” Dyla’s smile faded. “Our species is considered an aberration. They were breeding for large heads, and we’re the failure that didn’t quite die out.”

    “They?” Immediately my inquisitive mind was at work. Of course a species such as this hadn’t evolved naturally. Someone had created them, albeit by accident. “Do you mean Mongul and Mongal?”

    “Oh no, they came later,” Dyla replied. Frinn added, “We all got along in peace before they came along. Most of us,” Frinn indicated herself and Dyla, “were killed before it was decided we had a use.”

    I decided not to ask, suspecting the answer. Half-empty bowls filled with spongy gray matter had been on a table in the star-chart room. Frinn simply meant they weren’t being killed off as quickly.

    “So escorting you wouldn’t take away from any other duties,” Dyla explained. “Plus, with us both talking, you’ll have twice the information in half the time!”

    “That leads to my next question. We’re able to understand each other.” One of my abilities was a form of super-memory that allowed me to master languages quickly. Again, lost without the yellow sun.

    “It’s one of Warworld’s features,” Frinn answered. “I’m not sure how. Maybe a conehead could tell you.”

    “They’re the super-intelligent species that we’re an offshoot from,” Dyla explained. “Giant heads, twice the size of normal ones. Well, maybe super-intelligent isn’t quite the word. Mainly they’re just good at administrative duties and coordinating activities. Basically they’re the middle management here on Warworld. Well, let’s go.”

    Let’s go indeed, the nice double-headed lady and myself. As we went from place to place, I asked a great many general questions about their situation. Two brains in one body meant the two had to make agreements about who gets to do what. Otherwise they were immobile, one brain telling the legs to turn left while the other said to go right. Not a race that could have survived independently.

    This prompted further questions about Warworld and how it came to be. Apparently its creation had been many thousands of years ago, and none of the inhabitants knew by whom or why. But it was believed that whoever did create Warworld had also created the various species that lived on and maintained it.

    Most resembled basic humanoids for the most part, with the exceptions of double-headers and cone-heads. Genetic engineering had created a number of variations however, each with different and often bizarre powers. What made the least sense to me were the individuals who could divide themselves into three bodies. I suspected a link with the double-headers, but at the time I was without my vision and couldn’t search the DNA for similarities. Although at the time it was a useful ability, with the workforce so drastically reduced from what I suspected to have been a recent takeover.

    “Oh, billions of us were killed,” Dyla said. “There’s maybe only a few million of each right now. But the norms…er, the regular…oh…”

    “I understand. The most basic species.”

    “Yeah. The soldiers call them grunt fodder,” Frinn stated. “Well, lately a few of them have been giving birth two at a time. Probably because of, well, some mixed breeding that’s been forced on us.”

    Yes, it would make sense for Mongul and Mongal to make up the numbers they had killed. A facility the size or Warworld needed a sizeable workforce. Some of the workers had even been bred with specific tasks in mind, such as the administrative cone-heads.

    There were also the matter-eaters, who were able to consume and digest anything. Clearly they had been meant for waste disposal, but I observed them converting the matter into energy that flowed out of them into equipment. It was a  very useful gift that would be widely sought on many worlds.

    For more delicate work, there was a species capable to shrinking in size. Others could lower the temperature around them, to prevent equipment from running hot and rendering generally unsafe areas tolerable. I was not allowed to visit the engine and weapons areas, where levels of radiation would be quite high. But I met the people who worked there, with bodies made out of a stone-like mineral that made them immune to the deadly effects.

    For heavier work there weren’t slaves possessed of super-strength, but rather manipulators of metal. Alone the power was scarce enough to lift a few hundred pounds, but working together a group of such were able to move gigantic pieces of machinery.

    A final ability I observed first-hand seemed to be pheromone based, judging by Dyla and Frinn’s reaction. They had seemed wary of approaching one of the species at first, a quite attractive male. But when he called out to them it seemed they had no choice but to answer.

    “How are you lovely ladies doing?” He asked. They giggled and responded positively. He reached forward to touch them in an ungentlemanly manner. “Say, I’m just getting off of a long shift, and could sure use someone to help me relax.”

    I reached out and took the man’s wrist. Even without a yellow sun, I was far stronger that base humanoids. “I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere.” I fixed my eyes to him. “These ladies have been asked to accompany me, under the orders of Mongal.”

    A slight squeeze told him not to press the issue, and when he practically ordered Dyla and Frinn to go away I had to hurry to catch up to them. Frinn was quick to thank me.

    “That whole species creeps me out. Anything that one tells a female, of any species, they can’t help but do.”

    Apparently the gift could only be passed down by certain female carriers, but it was only the men that could do it. What kind of people would breed a race of men with the ability to control women? I suspected a type that didn’t must trust females, and lamented that I couldn’t investigate further at the time.

    Over the course of a few days I was shown much of Warworld, transported rapidly by quick-access portals. Vast hangars held thousands of ships, some more massive than the great LEGION craft I had encountered. Thousands more soldiers drilled in gigantic courtyards that could have held ten-times the number. Everywhere I was taken told me two things: Warworld had an enormous population and great arsenal of weapons, but not nearly what it could hold. Nowhere I was taken indicated such, but if there had been such a destructive takeover systems must have been damaged, and perhaps not everything had yet been repaired. A shortage in manpower meant a weakness to be exploited, if I could only find a way.

The day arrived when it was soldiers and not the escort that took me from my cell. From my observations, there were about as many soldiers as there were slaves, but drawn from many more different races. These two were Khunds, and they brought me harshly to their masters. It was time for me to the plot the next stop on their march to Earth.

    They were waiting for me in the navigation room. Mongul’s sadistic smirk at my entrance was no surprise, but his sister Mongal was smiling as well. Sight of the star charts showed me why. They had it, the path to Earth. But how?

    It was as if Mongal had read my mind. “As you can see, Lar Gand, we know longer have need of you. A new resident to Warworld had also been to Earth, and has proven more cooperative.”

    “Apparently you’ve encountered him before,” Mongul added. “When told about you, he seemed quite eager for a meeting.”

    A door off to the side had slid open, and a dark figure was emerging.

    “I believe his exact words were,” Mongal felt the need to elaborate. “’I’m gonna gut that bastich an string pieces of him from here to Vega.’”

    “Babe, I couldn’ta said it any better myself.” It was Lobo, the self-styled Main Man. His strength rivals my peak, he heals incredibly fast, and I had it on good authority Death doesn’t want him. The most infamous bounty hunter and general bad boy in the universe was looking me over like a piece of meat while stroking the hook on his chain. “’Cept of course fer the screamin’. Lookin’ forward to that most of all.”

    “I’ll be most envious if you can get this one to scream,” Mongul stated. All Daxamites are trained to withstand torture. “In fact, such a spectacle should be witnessed by all of Warworld.”

    “To the arena!” Mongal declared.

Do I want to save the planet Earth?

    This question had raced through my head nonstop as I was led into the massive arena on Warworld. Days ago I had observed a spectacle there, slaves being killed by soldiers for sport. For a real fight all of Warworld was in attendance, with those not in the arena surely watching a live feed. I couldn’t imagine anyone not being in the arena; it was standing room only, and several riots were breaking out over personal space.

    I had been led into the arena’s center and left there, guns trained on me to insure I wouldn’t run. Could those energy weapons damage my naturally dense body? Perhaps not singly, but a continuous stream from several might. Still, looking at the man approaching me, it may have been something to risk.

    Lobo was walking slowly, allowing the fear he imagined inside of me to build. Inside I was terrified, not of death but of what Lobo would do to me before. Even if I hadn’t thrown him into Throneworld’s atmosphere, he would hurt me for the fun of it. In my depowered state I cannot beat him. Whether by his hands or the soldiers’ guns, I was dead.

    As he got closer, Lobo began to unwind the chain from his arm and swing the loose end at his side. “Say goodbye to yer limbs. But don’t worry, yer head I’ll save fer last. You’ll get ta see what I’m doing an’ hear yer own screams.”

    I would be dead, and Earth would be destroyed.

    For the occasion, my tattered red uniform and blue cape had been restored. I would have liked to think that I cut a heroic figure there on the arena floor, but I probably looked more silly than anything to the hundreds of thousands in attendance. From the corner of my eye I saw two figures in purple robes, and my mind stirred. Faint recognitions were unimportant then, but somehow it pushed me forward. The faintest memory of murder on a dead world had me rushing at Lobo with a defiant “No!” on my lips.

    Earth. I owed the planet nothing. Had my father Kel Gand never gone there, he never would have died. Its destruction would not be on my shoulders, like Trom was. Even if I killed Lobo then and there, the path to Earth was still known to Mongul and Mongal. There was no way to stop the destruction. I would have been better off with a quick death.

    Instead, moving slightly faster than Lobo because I was used to much heavier gravity, I closed the distance and smashed my first against his face. On Trom I had ceased to be Lar Gand of Daxam, but I had still been trained as a soldier and that was how I would die!

    Lobo took a step back from surprise more than my blow’s force. A low growl rumbled in his throat, and his chain was swung with the hook aimed for my head. Ignoring the throbbing in my hand, I ducked back and grabbed the chain with it. Leverage mattered more than strength in some situations, and when I pulled down Lobo was forced off his feet and landed face-first on the ground.

    By then the soldiers had pulled back to allow the fight to take its course. Confident that I wouldn’t be fired upon I ran away from Lobo. Nothing I did while he was on the ground would have hurt him, and once he got up there would be his wrath to deal with. Anger can be exploited, but with the current difference in strength a close range fight was not the way to go.

    Being slower than me, Lobo needed other ways to close the distance. Unfurling more of the chain from his arm, he prepared to throw. The blunt curve of the chain’s hook smashed into my back as though dropped from atmosphere. My body twisted while falling, so that I was looking up at the arena’s dome. There was no feeling in my legs, but the hook was in my hand.

    I saw the chance at salvation, for myself and perhaps Earth. If I could only reach it.

    Fighting through a pain that flamed my entire body, I gripped the chain in both hands. “You got a bad deal Lobo,” I called out to him. “Once this reaches Earth, Warworld can destroy it from a whole system away. Would that really satiate your sadistic appetite?”

    “No,” Lobo admitted. “But it won’t for them either.” Seated in their balcony overlooking the arena, Mongul and Mongal were nodding to themselves. “If you knew what they had in store fer Earth, you’d slit yer own throat. Me, I’ll be happy to do it for ya!”

    He yanked at the chain hard, with strength and leverage at his side. But while possibly crippled for life, I fought. The hook I dug into the arena, anchoring me to the spot. Cursing with anger and frustration, Lobo took a step in my direction.

    “That’s right, bastich,” I hissed at him. “Get over here! I’ll shove this hook in yer eye!”

    That brought Lobo pause. Not the threat itself, but the realization that, though much weaker than he, I’ve controlled this fight from the beginning. Tightening his grip on the chain, he decided to change that. “The Main Man follows his own lead!” Lobo roared. This time when he yanked he also turned, not just pulling at the chain but directing the force upward.

    It worked. The hook came loose and it ascended high into the air, with me attached. Just as I’d wanted. Lobo’s yank had accomplished something else. That entire time I had been working on the link connecting the hook to the chain, and now it had weakened enough that I managed to separate it. Once the chain had reached its apex, I let go and continued into the air with hook still in hand. Everything now was up to physics.

    If I’d even had to reach, it wouldn’t have been enough. Fortunately, I slammed into the dome full-force, but maintained the presence of mind to jab the hook hard into the metal. Instead of falling I hanged there, over the arena and close to the sun that I’d ever been since coming to Warworld. One hand held tight onto the hook, while the other hand I smashed against the dome, again and again.

    “No!” Mongal and Mongul realized what I was doing at the same time, and screamed in unison. “Open fire!” Mongal cried when Mongul shouted, “Roast his flesh.”

    The first barrage missed me. It was fortunate that Lobo had tried jumping at the same time, inadvertently placing his body between me and the blaster fire. The bursts knocked him out of the sky and into the crowd, while in his rage Lobo shattered skulls with wildly thrown fists. That gave me several more punches, and while my knuckles bled and my hand throbbed I saw the metal crack. Just a little more…

    Explosive bursts of energy struck my body. Wracked with pain I had no choice but to let go and plummet to the ground. But not every shot hit me, and the weakened dome split apart in response. Sunlight touched my face even as a roar filled me eyes. Oh, what a beautiful crescendo.

    My fall stopped inches from the ground, only the cape touching it. Subconsciously I was even fighting the vacuum, my body taking in all the power it could before risking the depths of space. Few in the arena were so lucky. I saw hundreds get sucked out through the hole in the dome. Mongul and Mongal remained on the balcony, they’re strength holding them fast. I saw them glaring at me, screaming threats and obscenities lost in the roar of departing air.

    It was time. My body rocketed up in a purple streak through the dome and into the heart of Warworld itself. That yellow sun was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen, and the feel of its soft mass caressing my body as I passed through was as comforting as a mother’s touch. Mother, in saving you I had killed a planet and lost you regardless.

    Once through the sun I approached the other side of Warworld. At my speed I punched through the inner wall, through the massive section and outside in less than a second. This time slaves die; tiny bodies and eaters of matter. A part of me wanted to turn back, to lead a revolt and free Warworld by the force of my will alone.

    But fear kept me going. Together Mongul and Mongal were too much for me. Even using my flight and speed to avoid them, such an undertaking would have been doomed to failure. Alone I would have been forced to take my time, to build a resistance and strike carefully. Accomplishing anything would have taken weeks, months, time that would have brought Warworld ever closer to Earth. All with no guarantee that I could defeat Warworld’s rulers.

    To save the Earth and liberate its engine of destruction, I needed help. I needed Superman. I could only hope that he would listen to a stranger.

To be continued:  Lar Gand meets Superman for the first time!

Story © 2008 Steve Crosby and may not be reproduced without permission