Chapter 4: "The sorrow of now."
The Loonatics stood by as Ace and Tech approached the Loonacruiser, ready to make the painful trip to Zadavia's home planet. Ace turned to address the team. "Okay, guys, since this is a high priority mission, standard procedure. Lexi's got command 'til we get back from Freleng."
"When will that be, Ace?" the blonde bunny asked him.
"I don't know, Lex," he sighed. "Needless to say, we ain't lookin' forward to this. I don't wanna have to be the one to break this to Optimatus."
"I don't blame ya, pal," Duck said almost quietly, he and Rev having just emerged from the central command hub after watching the video of the attack on Zadavia. "I still can't believe it happened. How did Deuce escape, anyway?"
"That's what we're going to try and find out," Tech replied. "C'mon, Chief, time to go. If Deuce is planning to make good on his threat, we need to get to Freleng and fast."
"Right," the rabbit leader said. "And Tech, keep trying to establish communications with Freleng." Ace paused for a moment, just long enough to look back at his team with grim determination. He stalked aboard their custom-made jet. "And if we find Deuce along the way, well… it'll be just too bad for him." And with that, the rabbit and coyote boarded the Loonacruiser and gave a signal to Slam. The Tasmanian Devil nodded, and pushed a remote control button which activated the wormhole for planet Freleng.
The black jet fired up on the launching pad, while a countdown display ticked off precious seconds from 10 to 1. At the count of 0, the jet took off through the wormhole, on a trip neither of its occupants wished to make.
ooooo
Normally a quiet place this time of night, Freleng's palace suddenly became a hotbed of activity. Lady Kassondra emerged from the gleaming white healing room and was almost bowled over by two dozen Frelengian guards, who surrounded a helmeted man in a technician's uniform. They rapidly marched him towards the interrogation room. The young Healer noticed Captain Marsallas bringing up the rear.
"Marsallas," she said, getting the black-haired captain's attention. "Is that your prisoner?"
Marsallas stopped where he was while the guards continued on. "Yes, Lady Kassondra. How is your patient?"
"Fortunately, his injuries were minor compared to what they could have been. He should be ready to join you in the interrogation room momentarily."
"Good," the Captain nodded. "Preferably, with clothes on. I hope you weren't embarrassed by..."
Kassondra smiled slightly. "I'm a healer, Captain. In my line of work I have seen Frelengians wearing far less than their underclothes before. I'm afraid that the luxury of modesty is one that is not afforded to me. It would prove detrimental to a patient's recovery if I had to turn away every time I did an examination."
The Captain smiled as well. "Yes, I can see how that would be inconvenient. Well, I'd better be going. I don't want to keep Optimatus waiting."
"That is not a bad idea, Captain," said an impatient voice behind him.
Marsallas turned around quickly. "Um, Optimatus, I... "
"No time for that, Captain. Kassondra, when the technician is ready, please bring him in."
"It shall be done, Optimatus," she replied, and returned to the healing room.
"Good. Come along, Marsallas. Your prisoner and I have much to talk about." The Frelengian king and his blue dragon cruiser captain strode quickly through the marble and granite halls toward the interrogation room.
"Your majesty," Marsallas remarked, keeping pace with Optimatus, "before the prisoner was captured, he said something about taking the queen's powers and putting them in the guitar. Is such a thing even possible?"
Optimatus stared straight ahead, not even bothering to look at Marsallas. "Unfortunately, if your prisoner is who I think it is, the answer is yes."
"Um, do you know the prisoner, your majesty?"
"When you mentioned he was after the Cosmic Guitar, it occurred to me that our paths had crossed before," Optimatus replied flatly, his voice betraying no emotion. "Were you on Freleng when we had our recent troubles with the Martians?"
"No sir, I was away on training exercises in the Schlesinger Nebula. I didn't learn about it until after our troops returned home and the threat was vanquished. I understand that Guardian Tech was involved somehow."
"Yes, he was acting under secret orders from Zadavia, and he proved himself remarkably." As the pair reached the doors of the interrogation room, a sudden thought came to Optimatus. Activating his wrist communicator, he said, "Kassondra, when you bring the technician in, please awaken my sister. I know she will want to be present for this."
"As you wish, Optimatus. Kassondra out."
Optimatus nodded to the two guards stationed outside the room. They slowly opened the doors, and the Frelengian king and Captain Marsallas entered the granite grey chambers. They made their way down the circular steps to the center of the room where the pseudo-technician was seated, flanked by a dozen guards on each side.
Optimatus studied the lanky prisoner for a moment, and then approached him casually. "Yes, Marsallas, there could only be one other who knew about the guitar besides Deuce… and be foolish enough to attempt to reclaim it," he growled, quickly removing the prisoner's helmet. "Apparently, some people don't know when to quit, do they, Rupes Oberon?"
The moody musician gave a worried smile. "Heh-heh-heh...hi there, tall, dark and gruesome..."
Marsallas glared at Rupes. "You will show a little respect for the king."
Rupes shrugged. "But I did, man, I have very little respect for the king... "
"That much is obvious," Optimatus growled, as he bent down until he and Oberon were face-to-face. "And apparently, even less regard for your own life... "
ooooo
The black Loonacruiser emerged from the wormhole just above Freleng. Ace turned to Tech as the coyote was fiddling with the communication control. "Any luck, Tech?"
The genius stared at his leader. "Acmetropolis wasn't built in a day, Chief, I'm still... " Then, a slight pinging sound emerged from the console. "Eureka! Success, Chief, I've established communications with Freleng!" Tech beamed at this small accomplishment.
"Try not to be so happy about it, Tech," Ace muttered. "This ain't good news we're deliverin'."
The self-satisfied grin left Tech's face almost immediately. "Oh, yeah... sorry about that, Chief."
ooooo
Countless light years away… on another planet… in another galaxy…
The tall man in the trench coat and fedora turned towards a slightly smaller man wearing the uniform of his country's police force. "Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship," he said as they walked off in the distance on a rain-soaked runway, with the words "The End" and a small shield with the letters "W-B" superimposed over the scene. The couple on the couch snuggled in each others' arms as the old black-and-white movie came to an end.
"I never get tired of this movie," the male sighed as he picked up a remote control and turned off the TV.
"Obviously," the beautiful blonde he held replied warmly. "Why else would you have married a girl named Ilsa Lund?"
"Um, no reason," he said, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. He reluctantly got off their couch and replaced the "Casablanca" disc in its case. He paused, then turned to the young woman. "You really have to go tomorrow?"
"You know I do, Michael," she replied with a soft Swedish accent. "I'm a photojournalist. I go where my editors send me. It's what I do. It's my job."
"I know," he sighed again. "I'm just not too crazy about these interplanetary assignments you've been getting lately. Why can't you cover a story closer to home?"
"What kind of story would you suggest?" She came closer to him and ran her hands playfully through his dark brown hair.
"Oh, I don't know, Ilsa, how 'bout an undercover story about the sex life of the last happily married couple on this planet?"
"Now you know I don't do fiction," she calmly replied with a straight face. Then they both started laughing. This was a game that they never tired of playing. "You don't need to worry, darling. Harry and George will be with me and the ship is reliable." She then paused. "Do you really have to go on your assignment, too?"
"Yep," he said. "There've been too many reports coming in about this cryo plant lately for the head office not to pay attention to." He sensed her nervousness, and held her close, kissing her forehead. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. And then, when our jobs are done, we can finally go on that honeymoon I promised you."
"I hope Paris will still be there when we return, Michael."
"So do I, Ilsa. If not, we'll go slumming in Hawaii. Here's looking at you, kid," he sighed, as he stared longingly into her eyes. For a brief moment, time stood absolutely still . . .
Michael shut his hazel eyes tight, and reopened them a few seconds later, unwillingly returning to the present. The gold-framed picture he was holding gave no reply. He sighed again, placing the picture of Ilsa back on the mantle above the fireplace. Once again, the overwhelming sense of the sorrow of now overtook his memories of the beautiful young woman from his past who had been so important to him.
It made no sense to him. Why was he still alive, and why wasn't she? So many years ahead, so many plans... all of them gone in a single moment, with no idea as to the whys and wherefores. All he knew for certain was he was alone. And he was tired of it. Tired of the loneliness. Tired of the not knowing. Tired of it all.
Tired of living.
He looked to his left and found his journal still on top of the coffee table. He picked it up and opened it to the page with the last entry he'd made, which he'd bookmarked with a pen. Beneath it, he took the pen and started writing. "New day 145," he wrote, "enough is enough. And I've had enough. Whoever finds this can have it all. That's all, folks."
Without a sound, he closed the journal and entered the bedroom, opened a wooden chest at the foot of his bed, and reached to the bottom until he found what he was looking for. After all this time, he wondered if it still functioned. He stepped outside through the backdoor with the object in his right hand and made his way to a small tree stump. He placed a medium sized rock on top of the stump, walked back a few feet, raised and pointed the object at it... and fired. The beam from the laser blaster quietly destroyed the rock, leaving no trace of its existence.
"Still works," he muttered to himself. That was all he needed to know. Slowly, he raised the barrel of the blaster to his right temple, looked up at the night sky, and wished now for the pain of existing without his lost love to finally end...
Or for something totally unexpected to happen to make him stop...
ooooo
The video camera in Zadavia's ship exploded near her face; the flying shards just missing her eyes. The suddenness of the explosion, however, flung her hard against the back of her command chair. She thought she heard something snap and felt a sharp pain in her left forearm, but had no time to do anything about it other than scream in agony. As Zadavia's ship spun wildly out of control, she vainly attempted to gain some sort of footing, but to no avail. With the autogyro stabilization system now destroyed by Deuce's laser blast and her powers gone, she continued to be battered about the ship in all directions.
Bloodied and bruised, her forehead slammed violently against the control panel, rendering her unconscious and opening another nasty cut, while at the same time inadvertently reactivating the wormhole generator. As her ship changed course once more and picked up speed she slid to the floor of her wayward cruiser, blood matting her golden hair and coating her emerald green eyes. The pain that racked Zadavia's body gave way to a chilling numbness, the brightness of the flame-engulfed ship giving way to the darkness of the finality of certain death. She subconsciously prayed for the end to come quickly...
Or for an unlikely miracle...
ooooo
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: For reference regarding the story of the HOP Force, I point you to furrball's excellent "Acmetropolis" series; and as far as Freleng's "recent troubles with the Martians," go no further than Yunno's brilliant "Silent Conspiracy," both of which can be found on this site.)