Collaborative Fiction: A Serial - The Legion Appears ...

Chapter one: How it all started …

Life was good.

Duncan MacGregor (the man formerly known as Cain, and eventually to be known as Highlander – one identity he didn’t remember, and one he couldn’t imagine) looked over at the sleeping form of the beautiful red-haired lass named Fiona, his newlywed bride. He couldn’t imagine things being any better than they were now.

He also couldn’t imagine how quickly, how dramatically and how devastatingly his life was soon to change. As was typical for a man of his size, he had awakened in the wee hours of the night, famished. It was a little after midnight, but it was time for a midnight snack.

He got up as quietly as a man his size could and walked down the hallway and the stairs as silently as possible. The stone floor and the steps of the stairway were more than just cool; they seemed almost frigid, not uncommon for many nights in Scotland, except when it was the middle of August, which it was. Duncan gave no thought to it; he wasn’t that awake.

He found his way to the manor’s kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Ah, a gallon of milk, the remaining slab of roast from the delicious meal Fiona has fixed that evening and a loaf of freshly baked bread. Oh, well, he could surely find something else when he finished this.

He sat down at the table and sliced off two pieces of bread and cut off a slab of the beef and put it between the breads. Hmm, mustard, perhaps? Yeah, that’s the ticket. Mustard, some lettuce, onion, tomato, pickle.

No, scratch the pickle. Oops, no tomato. But the rest would go well. After fixing up his sandwich, he bit off a huge chunk and savored the taste as he began to chew. He closed his eyes as he chewed, enjoying the flavor.

Even with his eyes closed, he could detect a bright light coming through the window. He paused and slowly opened his eyes.

Suddenly, a massive arm wrapped around his throat from the rear and tightened, causing him to spit out his food as he struggled to regain his breath. The arm tightened and his now wide opened eyes could see three forms standing on the other side of the table, facing him. The first thing he realized was that they were human in shape, but not in appearance.

Duncan could also not understand their language, either. The being behind him tightened his grip in an attempt to choke the big man into unconsciousness.  Duncan’s survival instinct, honed through centuries of warfare and harsh times, kicked in and he fought back, with a sharp elbow to the midsection of the humanoid trying to choke him out.

The thing doubled in pain and tried to catch its breath, and its instinct reacted as it drew a short sword. It never got the chance to use it. Its heavily muscled body was no match for Duncan’s power and a blow to the thing’s throat and chin area snapped its head back so hard, it collapsed to the floor, neck broken.

Duncan grabbed the sword, and although it was strangely designed compared to others he had used, his instincts made the blade an extension of his own arm. He made quick work of the other three lifeforms, slicing two throats with rapid swings and disemboweling the third.

He listened intently and his war-heightened senses picked up footsteps. He moved quickly toward them and cut down two before they noticed him and drove the blade through the throat of another. He wasn’t counting, but seven were down. They were carrying weapons he didn’t recognize, but he scooped up blades from the three and carried them with him. He could hear footsteps above him, near the bedroom.

“FIONA!!!!”

Duncan’s roar of alarm awakened Fiona and startled the other soldiers to such an extent that they hesitated - a fatal mistake. Duncan threw two blades, cutting down two more, and sliced and diced his way through the remainder as he fought his way to reach Fiona’s side. Suddenly, two soldiers cane flying backwards from the bedroom, crashing into the stoned wall, stunned and easy targets for the Scotsman.

Duncan felt a sudden shock  and everything went black as another soldier levelled his weapon and shot the big man in the back, rendering him incapacitated. The soldier stepped in the doorway and shot Fiona, knocking her out. Two other soldiers had come up the stairs and grabbed MacGregor.

They had their quarry.

Coming: Chapter Two: Captivity.

Chapter Two: Captivity.


Ooh! Headache. MacGregor tried to sit up. This wasn’t going to be easy. After rising partway, he collapsed back on to the surface on which he lay.

‘Where am I,’ he asked himself. He knew for certain it wasn’t his bedroom. It wasn’t even his house.

Pain!  Somebody was sticking something in his leg. He looked toward his lower extremities, and saw a form. It appeared to be human, but he couldn’t recall ever seeing a human with four arms, ergo, it wasn’t human – obviously.

He tested his arms and concluded he wasn’t restrained. He saw the form turn away and pick up an item from a table and hold it to where a human’s mouth would be. There was a chittering sound that could have been speech. It placed the object back on the table and picked up what was unquestionably a scalpel-like instrument. It tested the edge of it and apparently satisfied it was sharp enough, turned back toward MacGregor.

As he reached toward Duncan’s leg, the Scotsman lifted himself up and sent a huge right hand crashing into the life form’s face, knocking it back in to the table and scattering what appeared to be surgical instruments all over the floor, with one flying upward, then coming down, point first, into the life form’s  … uh, stomach? It screeched loudly and what followed was either a string of curses in its language or extensive moaning and screaming, or … whatever. Duncan couldn’t be sure.

A door opened, and a short, rotund form entered the room and looked at the prone figure. Then it looked at Duncan. Its eyes, mounted on a pair of stalks, swiveled between the figure on the floor and the hulking figure climbing down from what was obviously an operating table.

Duncan asked the first question that came to mind, “What the hell do you want?”

The short form cocked its head to one side and uttered something, not in language MacGregor could understand, but the inflection and tone suggested it was a question.

“Who are you,” Duncan asked, pointing to the figure. “Where am I,” he then asked, pointing to his surroundings.

Short Form pulled what looked like a phone from its pocket and pushed a button. Duncan heard his voice: “What the hell do you want? Who are you? Where am I?”

Short Form scratched its head, its chin, and then its head again, and then pointed an appendage toward the ceiling as if a light had suddenly gone off in its mind. Then it spoke.

“What the hell do YOU want?” It pointed to Duncan and uttered what may have been a chuckle.

“Where am I? MacGregor growled again.

Short Form then gave out what could only be its species’ version of a belly laugh and said “Why, this is your new home, Warrior. From here we will launch those wars of Legion that our Emperor deems appropriate. The wars in which you will stand at the vanguard, and you will kill many hapless beings who aren’t worthy of drawing breath.”

“No. I will not.”

“Why? It will be most glorious. Eventually, you may kill enough that you may stand beside the Emperor, and someday, perhaps stand in his place even. Many would exalt you; untold millions of super-powered warriors will  kneel before you. The emperor marvels at your longevity; long have we observed your prowess at battle on your world. You may have not led vast armies, but you lived through many wars when others died. You are special, the Emperor has proclaimed it.”

“No, I will not war," Duncan said.

“Why? You would lead a life of peace, as you were on your world, when you could kill millions? Why?”

Duncan sighed, “You’re an idiot.”

The figure Duncan had cold-cocked earlier sat up on the floor.

Short Form turned to the figure on the floor and said, “Freedlump, he called me an idiot.”

Freedlump spoke, “An idiot? Really? Is that high praise from a deficient species such as this?”

Short Form replied, “One does not know. I think perhaps it is.”

“You are truly blessed then, my great one. Even these primitives recognize your glory.”

Duncan closed his eyes and lowered his head. God, I should be so lucky to find idiots like this among all these invaders.


Chapter Three: Meeting some Others ...

Chapter Three: Meeting Some Others ...

“Would you please come with me,” asked Short Form.” It’s time for you to meet someone.”

MacGregor walked toward the short alien and the little guy with the two eye stalks motioned him to follow, keeping one eye on the Scotsman while using the other to watch where he was going.

“This is a great honor for you,” Short Form said. “Very few of our new warriors get to meet a high-level commander so soon. You will also get the chance to see a Final Resolution for s world. New warriors never get that chance until they’ve gone through the first ten phases of instruction. You have obviously impressed the higher-ups. You must be so honored.”

“Great. I’m so impressed,” muttered MacGregor.

As the pair walked through the corridors of wherever they were, MacGregor saw additional aliens, some considerably bigger than his own stature, some close to his own size, and many smaller. A significant portion appeared to be armed, while others seemed to be clerical or administrative types.

After several changes in course, through many corridors, doors, chambers and a few areas of what appeared to be training or workout areas, The big man had found himself exposed to several sparring bouts between various aliens. At least, that’s how he classified them in his mind, based on what deduced from the visual clues he could see.

Some of the sparring efforts were fairly tame, but strenuous, others very brutal, and he also witnessed what he could only assume were a trio of executions.

Eventually, the reached an observation area where a large figure seated in an apparent throne was watching something resembling a jury trial. Short Form stood to the side and slightly behind the throne-like seat and after a pause, did an alien version of clearing his throat.

The form seated on the throne said, ‘Shut up, Nazden. I’ll tell you when to speak.”

Short Form, or Nazden (at last he had a name MacGregor could use), bowed and said softly, “I apologize, milord. I did not mean to offend."

“I said ‘SHUT UP’!

Nazden jumped and began to tremble, but said nothing.

The spectacle the being was watching seemed to end with one life form (the defendant?) being summarily executed, much to the delight of an apparent presiding judge, and the large alien seated in the observation area.

“Finally, justice is served,” it said. “Now, Nazden, what is the reason for your worthless interruption?”

The alien turned to look at the comparatively small intruder and said, “Well, what have we here?”

“Milord, this is the great warrior we selected from the world called Earth,” Nazden said.

“I see. He is an impressive specimen,” it said. “What is your name, warrior?”

“What’s YOUR name?” MacGregor responded.

“Rather impertinent, aren’t we? I asked you a question. Answer me.”

“No,” the Scotsman responded. “My name is none of your business.”

“Well,” the alien said. “It would appear you are owed a lesson in compliance with orders.”

MacGregor stiffened, but said nothing

The alien looked toward one of its attendants and nodded.

The attendant walked to and stood in front of MacGregor.

“Answer the General, earthling,” it said.

“No.”

The attendant slapped MacGregor, who barely flinched  “ANSWER.”

MacGregor smirked (which is apparently universal, no matter the language.) The alien again raised its hand to strike MacGregor, who intercepted the blow and using the hell of his hand, delivered a sharp, upward blow to what was the alien’s equivalent of a chin, knocking it down, and the Scotsman quickly delivered a swift kick to the head.

The alien rose slightly, but remained seated on the floor as other attendants who were watching moved in.

“NO!!”

General Alien held up a hand and said,  "Spirited, for certain. If nothing else, Nazden, our informant on Earth located a warrior definitely unafraid of authority.”

“Yes, General, I agree. But I think he can be broken, milord. He can …”

“Shut up, Nazden,” the general said. “You do tend to prattle on without adding anything to a conversation.”

“Sorry, milord.”

The general thoughtfully appraised the captive. Nodding its head, it said, “I think he will make a good addition to our special forces. He appears to have the makings of more than an assault leader; I’m certainly impressed. If the evaluation of his physical and war-making prowess is even close to accurate, he’s a prized recruit.”

“The term ‘recruit’ implies I’m here of my own choice,” MacGregor said. “I’m not. I’m not serving you or anyone else … in any capacity.”

“Really? Why?”

“Several reasons. Firstly, I don’t like you. Secondly, I don’t want to, and thirdly, just for general reasons, you can go straight to hell.”

“What does “go straight to hell” mean, Nazden? Look it up.”

“Uhh, it … is … not complimentary, General. According to my research,” Nazden said, looking up from his phone like device. He also called me an ‘idiot’, milord, but I haven’t  had the opportunity to research that.”

Another voice entered the conversation.

“Believe me, Nazden, he was spot on when he called you an idiot.”

A human stepped in the room and said, ”You are definitely an idiot.”

Nazden beamed and the human said, “So you’re Duncan MacGregor, eh?”

“And you are?”

“You’ll find out … soon enough.”

Next: Chapter Four: The Next Confrontation ...

Chapter Four: The Next Confrontation …

“How about now," MacGregor demanded,

“Oh, I think not yet,” the stranger replied. “I’d like to see you simmer in frustration for a while.”

“Have we met,” asked MacGregor.

“Not face-to-face … exactly,” the stranger teased. “Many, many years ago. I only saw you from a distance, but I knew it was you at whom I was looking. I left Earth shortly thereafter and found myself captured by these … folks. I decided to use you as a bargaining chip once I figured out what this was all about.”

MacGregor leaned back against the wall, and said, “All right. You’ve got my attention. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Fair enough. Leave us alone; I’ll talk to him in private.”

The General objected, “I’ll remain.”

“No. I said alone.”

“He is my prisoner. I stay,” said the General.

“Do I have to take this to Kruhl, General?”

The General hesitated, then gruffly – and despondently – replied, “Very Well. It’s over my objections, though.”

“Duly noted,” said the stranger. “Now go.”

After the General departed and the two were alone, the stranger looked at MacGregor and said “Good help is hard to find. Kruhl realizes that.”

“Who is Kruhl?”

“If you want to stay in his good graces, you’ll refer to him as Emperor Kruhl when you meet him, MacGregor. He’s a bit touchy regarding protocol,” said the stranger.

"I’ll remember that. Now, again, who are you?”

The stranger smiled and retrieved a bottle from a compartment on the wall. “Wine? Or at least, their version of the fruit of the grape. It’s actually quite good.”

“No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

“As you wish; it’s really quite good.”

“I’m waiting. Who are you?”

“My name wouldn’t register with you. I’m not from Earth; I was just passing through a long, long time ago. How many different names have you had in your very, very long life? Hundreds, thousands?

“One. Duncan MacGregor.”

“That’s a lie. I know better. You were called a few different names; probably given to you by others and you just accepted them to remain undetected, for whatever reason. For instance, when I served as an advisor for a kingdom at one time, they called you Samson, I believe.”

A cold smile found its way onto the stranger’s face when he noticed MacGregor’s reaction to that statement.

“I was serving a king when you pulled down a temple and killed thousands of his people. I decided to make a note of that, just in case. When I left Earth and after a time, found myself in the clutches of Emperor Kruhl and his band of conquerors, I decided to use my knowledge of you as a bargaining chip. He had made me a slave, but when I saw his fighters in action, I said to myself, ‘He could use a fighter like you.’

"You see, many of his fighters are supernatural, magical, but while they may be long-lived, they’re not immortal. My research tells me you are. When I told Kruhl about you, he immediately decided he must have you as part of his band of conquering powers. I managed to convince him that only I could handle you. Not physically, mind you; I’m no fool. But I convinced him that I could persuade you to do his bidding.”

“Okay, you screwed up there. What else did you promise that you won’t be able to deliver?”

Chapter Five: Meeting the Emperor ...

Chapter Four: Meeting the Emperor …

The stranger replied, “You underestimate me, big man. I’m capable of much more than you can imagine.”

The stranger walked toward the door, and as it slid open he said, “Come with me. Let’s meet the leader of us all.”

MacGregor followed reluctantly behind as the stranger led the way down a series of corridors.

Apparently, the drink that the stranger had offered MacGregor was also a favorite among the Emperor’s cast of warriors. They encountered a handful who had obviously been imbibing.

“Why don’t you at least give me a name I can use when I’m talking to you,” Said Duncan. “I’d like to at least be somewhat polite and referring to you as ‘Hey, you” doesn’t feel quite right.”

“Sounds reasonable. Call me, … say … Abel. How’s that,” the stranger chuckled.

Poor joke, Duncan thought. Why choose that name? This guy will really bear watching.

They entered a short, ornate hall with massive double doors.

Abel spoke to the guards, “Open, please.”

The guards moved to the doors and each pair of guards grabbed a door and pulled mightily. The initial effort yielded no results and one of the said, “We didn’t expect you, or we would have had a full complement of guards ready, sir. My apologies. It’ll be just a moment.”

“Move aside, “MacGregor growled and pushed his way past the guards. The Scotsman grabbed each door and easily swung them open, sending the guards on the left against the wall and the pair on the right to the floor. “Pathetic.”

“BRAVO! BRAVO!”

Just inside the doors stood a life form bedecked in considerable finery, beaming with pleasure at what it had seen.

“I’m impressed. He appears to be everything you promised he would be. Come in, come in. I’m your emperor, Kruhl.”

“You’re not my emperor. I’m not one of your subjects.”

“Oh, but you are. You are,” said the obviously pleased being.

Abel said, “You really should bow before your emperor.”

MacGregor ignored him and stared down the emperor.

“Willful individual, isn’t he, General,” the emperor said.

“As I said, Your Excellency, he deserves a lesson in compliance,” the general said.

“Ah, yes. Please see to it he receives one,” Kruhl said.

With a smirk, the General gestured to a hidden something behind the throne, and out stepped a hulking form, nearly 15 to 16 feet in height and perhaps tipping the scale at a ton or more.

Now, MacGregor,” said the general. "This is your instructor … in protocol. Please see to it he understands, Cryd.”

Cryd – whatever he was – growled and practically drooled at the prospect of enacting what was obviously his specialty. Pain and discipline. He raised the huge cudgel in his hand and moved swiftly toward MacGregor. Crud swung the weapon and MacGregor simply stepped aside as the heavy weapon slammed into the spot where he had been.

Taken aback, Cryd roared in surprise and lifted the club again. Before he could swing it again, the Scotsman sprung into action, delivering a crippling blow at where most humanoid life forms would have genitals. His guess was spot on (whether he connected with genitalia or not) and it staggered the monster, dropping it to all fours and bringing its ugly face to within striking distance. MacGregor delivered a hard left, followed by a right and another left, and the monster dropped onto its face.

The general walked cautiously to the now prone form and examined it. He rose and turned toward MacGregor.

“You … killed Cryd,” General said in disbelief. “How … you .. how can one being do that?”

Abel interjected, “As I promised, Your Excellency. A warrior beyond belief ... and I believe, expectations, also.”

“Incredible,” Kruhl muttered, then turning to Abel, ”You are indeed a wizard. A marvel. You have brought to me the ultimate weapon. No world shall stand before me now. I will render and destroy those which stand in my way. You, you shall be my weapon of conquest,” the emperor said to MacGregor.

“With all due respect, Your Excellency,” said MacGregor sarcastically, “Up yours.”

Chapter Five: The First World ...

Chapter Five: The First World …

“DO NOT SPEAK TO YOUR EMPEROR IN SUCH TONES!! I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF!!”

The General was furious as he screamed at MacGregor.

“Take your shot, big mouth,” MacGregor snarled.

Kruhl screamed, “SILENCE!! ENOUGH!!”

General bit his lip (at least, it was in the basic vicinity of where a lip should be) and stepped back, suitably chastised. MacGregor, meanwhile, stood his ground and glared at the high-ranking officer.

“Cryd is dead. I hate to lose him,” said Kruhl dejectedly. “But, obviously, he wasn’t up to the task. This … MacGregor is. You will stand at my right hand, earthling. You are my new enforcer.”

“Emperor! No,” said General. “He has displayed no loyalty, no devotion. He is not …”

“He is a warrior, General. No warrior has ever stood to Cryd, let alone defeated him,” Kruhl said. “Perhaps, some things need be changed. Dismissed.”

“But, Your Excellen ..

“I said Dismissed, General. You have not worn out your welcome; neither have you outlived your usefulness,” said Kruhl. “But for now, I wish to speak to MacGregor and my advisor. Go.”

The General bowed, acknowledged his ruler and swiftly left the room.

“He is headstrong, but he is right,” Kruhl said. “You have not displayed tendencies of loyalty or devotion. You will be tested soon. Advisor, how near is our next planet?

Abel said, “We are approximately two days out, Your Excellence.”

“Good. Brief MacGregor on my expectations of him.”

“Wait,” MacGregor said. “I heard the short, fat guy mention mass killings. I refuse to take part in that. I’ll die first.”

“An immortal … die?” Abel scoffed.

Abel knew MacGregor’s statement was devoid of reality.

“All right.” Kruhl said. “My goal is galactic conquest. Tell me, earthling, how would you accomplish that without eliminating weak and conquered worlds?”

“You have many Warriors,” said MacGregor. ”If you conquered a world, could not one of them maintain lordship over that world? If you let me engage a world’s greatest champion in ritual combat, with the proviso that they would agree to your dominion through the warrior left behind, if their champion cannot defeat me, then you will have conquered the world, one of your champions would rule in your stead, and no one would perish. You would be seen as benevolent. I would serve you under those circumstances, with one request on my part.”

“Intriguing offer. Conquest without demonstrable evidence of defeat seems to be hollow,” Kruhl said. “I do not …”

“Your Excellency, If I may,” Abel said. “There is much to favor his proposal.  I would recommend it. I will gladly help you outline specifics relative to the change in policy.”

“Hmm,” Kruhl said. “We will discuss it. Summon guards to escort him to his quarters and provide him with the finest repast possible.”

Abel summoned escorts and MacGregor, hoping he managed to save a world of sentient beings, left with them to return to his quarters, which proved to be more than extremely satisfactory. His personal request could wait.

Meanwhile, Kruhl and Abel discussed MacGregor’s proposal.

“What are you thinking, advisor?”

“Your Excellence, let’s follow his suggestion. You and your chosen, ruling warrior address the population then we proceed to the next world as you and your chosen remain to implement your rule. After we leave, you can destroy the world and rejoin us. What MacGregor doesn’t know, won’t hurt him,” Abel laughed.

“I like the way you think. We will inform the earthling that for that arrangement to remain in place, he will spend the rest of his days with me.”

The pair enjoyed a drink and laughed at the ruse, not realizing that binding MacGregor’s presence to the emperor would actually deny the Scotsman’s personal request to, after a time, return to his own world … and his love.

Next - Chapter Six: As time passes, MacGregor becomes suspicious …

Chapter Six: As time passes, MacGregor becomes suspicious …

Fast forward nineteen Earth years …

Despite the time that has passed, MacGregor feels good about having saved a number of worlds and untold trillions of sentient beings from death. As he relaxes in his quarters on the way to the next world, he thinks of his lost life on Earth, and hopes that his loving Fiona has been able to successfully move on and forged a new life for herself.

He reminisces about the worlds – hundreds of them – that remain vibrant and alive because he gave up his life on earth and sacrificed his marriage and the love of Fiona to save untold trillions, if not more.

He reviewed his assignment, coming soon: Amoulartis IV. The world is on the verge of developing interplanetary space flight; its development similar to Earth. Population is nearly 673 billion, a one world republic without social upheaval and possessing a highly intelligent and sophisticated humanoid society.

Much different from the previous world, a small backwater planet called Sigmatune III.  MacGregor had been puzzled by the choice of that world for conquest. Various societies, constant war; it was a world very close in development to 15th century earth, poor in natural and pandemics. It was basically a pre-industrial world with rampant discord and susceptible to plagues. Supposedly, its choice had more to do with the location of its star system than any other reason.

MacGregor looked out of the portal of his quarters at the blackness of space and the occasional twinkling of a distant star and wondered if peopled planets encircled it. Was it home to a world he had saved from destruction, or were its satellites devoid of life and therefore of no interest to Kruhl?

MacGregor felt restless, not an uncommon feeling. For nineteen years, he secluded himself in his quarters; he didn’t socialize with Kruhl’s warriors, almost to a personage, he regarded them as boorish, cruel and probably frustrated at being denied the opportunity to rend and kill the many worlds they had visited. Because he had no interaction with them, he didn’t know what they knew.

Kruhl and Abel had lied to him, letting him believe he had saved worlds from destruction by subjugating themselves to Kruhl, when in actuality, the Emperor had secretly left forces behind to wreak havoc, death, and destruction on those worlds after MacGregor had convinced them that surrender would save their worlds.

For whatever reason, MacGregor picked this evening to venture forth from his abode, strolling through the concourse and drawing cold stares from the many warriors that were looking forward to the visit to  Amoulartis IV, a world well known in the sector among space-faring civilizations as a garden spot and frequent host to many off-world visitors who vacationed among its lush forests and resort settings.

Most of the warriors ignored MacGregor’s presence, notably a trio of hard drinking trio seated in a corner looking out at a small star field, probably a stellar nursery. MacGregor could hear the intoxicated threesome boasting about the visit to  Sigmatune III.

Warrior One: “That was an easy assignment. No resistance, and most of them cried and begged for mercy before they died. I got a good laugh from the mother who tried to save her son, only to see Rigmark pulled the child apart before her very eyes.”

Warrior Two: ‘Burp’

Warrior Three: That’s sick, you fool. It’s much better when they try to fight back. At least that seems sporting.”

Warrior One: “Well, they die no matter how it goes. That’s the best part.”

Warrior Three: “Jail to the Emperor. Let’s hope those fools on  Amoulartis IV at least put up some resistance before they perish.”

The trio toasted their Emperor, and each other, before drinking most of the beverages, and clumsily spilling the rest.

MacGregor felt fury rising inside him, boiling inside his being like no time since the day he killed the emperor’s enforcer, Cryd. He set off in a hurried march, his destination: Abel’s quarters.

He didn’t bother to knock or announce himself. He simply ripped apart the doors, and stormed inside before Abel could react. His right hand closed upon the advisor’s throat and he slammed him into the bulkhead, while simultaneously sending Abel’s concubine flying across the room with a backhanded blow from a huge left fist.

“YOU LIED TO ME.” MacGregor roared. “I NEGOTIATED PEACEFUL SURRENDERS FROM THOSE WORLDS TO SAVE THEM AND YOU MURDERED THOSE PEOPLE AND DESTROYED THEIR WORLDS!!! WHY?!? WHY?!?’

Abel tried to reply, choking instead. MacGregor never did get an answer, as his antagonist died from the big man’s choking grip. MacGregor pounded Abel’s now lifeless form against the bulkhead over and over as the advisor’s concubine screamed in horror.

The Scotsman raced from the quarters as several warriors responded to the screams. Without regard to how the warriors may have reacted, MacGregor lashed out, killing two and delivering punishing blows to three others. He made his way toward the Emperor’s throne room as alarms sounded throughout the ship. Several warriors intercepted him on his way and managed to subdue him.  The group manhandled MacGregor into an escape pod and and launched the pod, securing it by a force field link that kept it just off the ship’s starboard stern.

Kruhl was briefed on the incident and grimly ordered his crew to change course, “He will pay for what he’s done. Change course, we’re going to Earth.  Amoulartis IV can wait. Earth will pay for this man’s treachery.”

Next – Conclusion: Invasion Earth ... And a team of superheroes rescues Highlander ...

Conclusion: Invasion Earth … And the rescue of Highlander

Not a good situation did MacGregor find himself in.

The escape pod had barely enough room to move; it wasn’t designed for a life form of his size. It had been the closest one and the warriors who subdued him shoved in there without thought to his comfort. Why should they? They never considered any victim.

There was barely enough room for him to get any leverage to effect an escape. It wouldn’t have done any good regardless. He could have gotten out of the capsule, but would’ve been adrift in space, with no means of propulsion. He could last indefinitely in there; immortality being what it was.

But he would grow weaker as time passed. No way to replenish energy meant hunger pains, weakened physical state. He would survive if never freed, but that would be meaningless. He would be weak, eventually helpless, but still living. In that case, he couldn’t even look forward to being relieved from his circumstance by death.

His only choice was to ride out the trip, dragged along with the ship, hoping that the next planetary stop would give the chance to free himself and wreak vengeance on his captors.

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Meanwhile, aboard the mother ship, Kruhl had summoned together his senior officers. As a junior among the seniors, General would be expected to listen and provide input only if he was asked.

He looked around the assemblage. Ass-kissing toadies, everyone. Incapable of doing much more than echoing their emperor’s statements, the senior generals were worthless, their own egos bloated by the idea that they were somehow important.

General had bought into Kruhl’s goal, cruel and heartless though it was, because he enjoyed the rush of power. But he was also a principled being, and the idea of agreeing to spare the worlds and then breaking that word and killing entire civilizations was the very antithesis of that principle. He grudgingly admired the earthling because was the only other being that had been involved in this crusade who had what the General considered any ethics or morals.

Skilled in communications, General covertly been monitoring the escape pod and MacGregor’s status. With Kruhl’s decision to bypass Amoulartis IV and invade Earth, the change in objectives was not known to MacGregor.

The briefing concluded with Kruhl’s new advisor, a more worthless toadie than most of the others – a definite “Yes-alien” – announcing they were just a day from planetfall, and their new target … Earth.

General knew the time had come. Returning to his quarters, he contacted the escape pod through the most circuitous, secure channel possible.

General: “Earthling,”

MacGregor: “What do you want?”

General: “Listen to me. Kruhl’s current objective is just hours away. He intends to do to Earth what he’s done to other worlds.”

MacGregor: “Let me out. I need to stop him.”

General: “I will, but you need to hear me out. I’ll help you save your world, but I ask of you a favor.”

MacGregor: “I’m listening.”

General laid out his plan, demanding that MacGregor speak on his behalf to authorities on Earth. The big man reluctantly agreed, and General put his plan in motion. He needed assistance and there was one subordinate who would help. He brought that alien into the three-person conspiracy to provide misdirection.

----------------------------

Planetfall, and all were hastening to stage the invasion. The subordinate put into motion his assignment, knowing full well it was a task that amounted to suicide.

General had transported MacGregor to the General’s personal war machine and joined him there.

He entered the small ship and MacGregor was waiting. The Scotsman’s hands seized upon the General’s throat and slammed him into the bulkhead.

MacGregor: “This is a warning. Betray me, and I’ll you apart, one limb at a time.”

General throatily whispered, “Agreed,”

The small craft was launched, and a fire control officer, detecting the launch, opened fire per Kruhl’s protocol. The blast sent the ship careening out of control, and General activated a weapon that stunned the earthling with a psychic blow of extreme ferocity. MacGregor slumped in his seat and General piloted the ship toward a location he had selected prior to departure. It crash landed with considerable danage.

General had monitored Earth for some days, and had selected a location that was near the one personage he thought would understand and help.

He exited the ship and faced an astonished young woman.

General: “You are the earthling named Krystal Fae?”

Krystal: “Yes. Who are you?”

Before General could answer, another ship landed and disgorged a team of soldiers, followed by a man, wearing an eye patch.

Eye patch man: “Are you with the ship now in orbit around our world?”

General: “No longer. I’m here to assist your world. I have an injured Earthling on board.”

Two soldiers entered the remains of the ship, and after summoning additional help, carried MacGregor outside.

Eye patch man turned to one of the soldiers with him and asked, “Is that him?”

the soldier replied, “Yes, Director. Ve thought he had been abducted and our intelligence received from off-vorlders pointed to vhat is known as Legion.”

Director Nova: “My god, Helmut. He’s back. Notify Fiona MacGregor. Her husband’s home; now we need to persuade him to join us. Stranger, who are you?”

General: “I’m simply called General. al. You should notify his wife that the weapon may have caused significant memory degradation. There could be problems."

Director Nova: "Well, we welcome any and all assistance. Did you subdue MacGregor?”

“Yes.”

“Impressive. It had to take an ultra-powerful weapon to take him down. Yes, indeed.”

“I am at your service. What am I to call you?”

“I’m Director Nova. We’ll need an operative name for you. I think calling you General isn’t going to fly with everyone, but you deserve a rank of some authority. We can call you Captain, but we’ll need something else to distinguish you from others.”

Helmut: “If I may. We observed it took an ultra-powerful weapon to take down Duncan. Ultra seems fitting.”

Nova: “Agreed. Ultra it is. You are now Captain Ultra. Welcome to the forces of Earth, Captain Ultra.”


NOTE: Any additions submissions are welcome.