The Second To Last Human Alive

Chapter 3 - The Two Most Powerful Men In The Universe

Lord Morningstar Satan III sat in a throne forged from the bones of his enemies and sulked. Everything had been going exactly not his way, and now this. He tossed away his newspaper. The front page was a story about the destruction of the planets Irt 4, and Irt 7, both inhabited. The picture had a live feed of the space debris. Lord Morningstar Satan III sighed.

The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway found its way into Morningstar’s throne room. Ernst and Dougall, two mercenaries in his employ, approached his throne.

“Ernst,” said Ernst, the shorter one.

“Dougall,” said Dougall, the larger one.

“Planet assassins,” they chimed in together.

“Yes I know who you are,” hissed Morningstar “Have you seen the news?”

“Not yet,” said Ernst grinning “But I’ll bet dollars to donuts that it has something to do with our handiwork.”

“Yes it was your handiwork, but unfortunately as you can see,” Morningstar pointed to the discarded paper, which was still face up “You destroyed the wrong trice damned planet! And another planet that was near the wrong planet.”

“Well what can I say,” said Ernst “In his enthusiasm for a job well done, my partner Dougall got a little careless. Oh well. It’ll make a good warm up for the main event.”

“You must know from my reputation that I do not tolerate failure,” said Morningstar. “You two must be made example of.”

Ernst laughed, “Yeah good one.”

“I’m dead serious you miserable little space-mosquito,” fumed Morningstar.

“What are you going to do to us?” asked Ernst, still highly amused.

“I command armies beyond your comprehension. I could send a legion of men after you.”

“Oh no, you hear that Dougall? Our employer here is gonna send his Legion. I’m quaking in my boots, can you see?”

“That’s quite a quake you have there in your boots,” agreed Dougall.

“Dimensional Legions. For example, all of the soldiers in your universe would equal one of my Legions.”

“Whatever,” said Ernst “So where are they then? We can take ‘em.”

Lord Morningstar sighed again. The worst part of it was that Ernst was probably right, and he just couldn’t afford to lose the number of troops it would take to bring them down, not with him on the verge of war.

“Alright, I’m feeling merciful, I’ll give you one more shot. Make sure you get it right this time, you’re to destroy Orth 7.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re not children. We’ll get it this time. Pleasure doing business with you,” said Ernst, and the two turned around and walked away. 

* * *

“Promise you won’t think I’m crazy,” Randal insisted.

“Randal,” began Mint “Nothing you say could make me think you’re any crazier than I already do. The ship has warped on that one.”

Randal and Mint stood on a frictionless sidewalk leading to the parking lot of the Cyborg Isaac Asimov Memorial Spaceport. Since all the money Randal and Mint had was either dead currency or hadn’t been invented yet they had to work their passage from Orion to Earth 7. Since Randal had no marketable skills in what he still considered to be the future, even though it was the past as far as Mint was concerned, he had been forced into a janitorial position, a position he was not anxious to reinstate.

“I’m lucky. Really lucky,” said Randal “Not in a good way, just in a lucky way. It’s like Lady Luck is stalking me, and she’s prone to violent mood swings.”

“Is Lady Luck one of your tribal gods or something?” asked Mint, to whom the 21st century might as well have been the Ice Age.