“Like Harry Potter and luke Skywalker before him, Jack Blank is a mythic hero.”
—San Francisco Book Review, on The Accidental Hero
Don’t miss a moment of Jack’s adventures!
ALSO BY MATT MYKLUSCH
THE ACCIDENTAL HERO
THE SECRET WAR
FOR MY DAD,
A REAL-LIFE SUPERHERO
Contents
Prologue: THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES
Chapter 1: GHOST IN THE MACHINE
Chapter 2: THE GREAT ESCAPE
Chapter 3: JACK’S BACK
Chapter 4: HOMECOMING
Chapter 5: THE HARBINGER OF DOOM
Chapter 6: WAR MACHINES
Chapter 7: THE GETAWAY
Chapter 8: HEAD GAMES
Chapter 9: FIGHT OR FLIGHT
Chapter 10: A FRIEND IN NEED
Chapter 11: THE COLD AND THE CALCULATING
Chapter 12: SMART BOMBS
Chapter 13: SHOCK AND AWE
Chapter 14: RETURNING FIRE
Chapter 15: CAPTURED
Chapter 16: THE DARKEST HOUR
Chapter 17: THE EVE OF DESTRUCTION
Chapter 18: GETTING SMART
Chapter 19: THE FATE OF JACK BLANK
Chapter 20: REVILE RESURRECTED
Chapter 21: INVASION
Chapter 22: THE CHILDREN’S CRUSADE
Chapter 23: THE HERO’S JOURNEY
Chapter 24: THE SACRIFICE
Chapter 25: THE END OF INFINITY
Chapter 26: FATHERS AND SONS
Chapter 27: LIFE ON THE LAUNCHPAD
Acknowledgments
PROLOGUE
The Emperor’s New Clothes
Voices echoed in Jack’s ears. The blackness surrounding him began to take shape and light faded in as if someone were sliding a dimmer switch, stopping at a dull amber glow. It took a moment for Jack’s eyes to adjust. Once they did, he found himself surrounded by the Rüstov. Judging by the appearance of his captors, he was in the presence of royalty. He had been taken to the emperor’s throne room.
The Rüstov’s typical architecture and design, represented by a chaotic mess of jury-rigged scrap, was eschewed here in favor of a clean, industrial aesthetic. Smooth steel panels lined the walls, with giant rivets drilled into their edges. Massive I beams filled the chamber, running from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. By Rüstov standards, they were the equivalent of intricately painted frescoes and marble columns—a lavish display of elegance. Fresh-faced nobles dressed in fancy robes stared at Jack in silence. On the far side of the room, a small run of steps led up to a large iron throne. The chair was spun around, facing the other direction, its occupant looking out a window into space. Jack tried to move, but he was held fast by one of the Magus’s imperial guards. He struggled against its grip, but he had no strength.
Jack’s thoughts were sluggish, like someone had poured cement into his brain. His powers had no effect on the guard, who, like the nobles, was using a host that had very little techno-decay. Standing next to Jack, also locked in the grip of another Rüstov guard, was a man dressed in prison rags. He was clearly terrified.
“What is this?” Jack asked, his voice weak and groggy. “What’s going on?”
“Silence!” the guard behind Jack shouted, striking him on the head.
Jack’s head throbbed with pain. Lacking the energy even to give the guard a dirty look, he opted to hold his tongue rather than risk another blow. A bluish-white spotlight switched on above the throne, and the chair slowly rotated until Jack was face-to-face with the Magus. The guard holding Jack immediately dropped to one knee and forced him to genuflect before the emperor as well. Jack tried to look up, but the guard pushed his head back down. “Bow your head, meat. You do not look at the Magus.”
From his knees, with the Rüstov guard’s hand on the back of his head, Jack peered up at the Magus as best he could. Despite his limited vantage point, it was plain to see that the Magus was unlike any Rüstov he had ever encountered before. Rüstov host bodies were typically withered, frail husks that had been sucked dry by their parasites. They were broken shells of people, with veins that had been turned into circuits, bones that had been morphed into rusty metal, and organs that had been transformed into greasy, ramshackle contraptions with dirty gears. Jack had seen the ruinous effects of Rüstov infections firsthand in the many Para-Soldiers he’d fought over the years. The host body that the Magus inhabited exhibited none of the mummified, zombielike features he’d come to expect from the Rüstov. The Magus was in peak physical condition—a strong, perfect, muscle-bound specimen with almost no sign of infection.
The Magus rose from his seat and walked toward Jack and the other prisoner. The closer he got, the less Jack saw of him. With his head pressed firmly toward the ground, Jack could see only a pair of bare feet advancing along the path, beneath the folds of a snow-white robe. The prisoner next to Jack was whimpering. Jack didn’t waste words trying to tell him that everything was going to be all right. He knew better.
Jack heard a loud pop-hiss noise, like a knife stabbing a can of soda, and the Magus’s body collapsed to the floor. The Rüstov emperor had released his host. Jack had a clear view of the unconscious body until it was dragged out of sight by the greedy hands of other Rüstov royals. He could picture the parasitic nobles fighting over the body as if it were some kind of stylish hand-me-down. As the Magus’s former host was pulled away, his white robe stayed behind. Something was stuck beneath it, trying to punch its way out from under the folds of fabric. Jack, who had never seen a Rüstov without its host before, gasped when a scrap-metal scorpion the size of a small dog crawled out into the open. It snapped its claws and curled its tail to strike.
The guard beside Jack let go of the other prisoner, and the guard behind him relaxed his grip on his head. Jack craned his neck up and looked around. The prisoner next to him ran to the exit and banged on the door, unable to open it. Frantic, he ran off in the other direction, but the Rüstov soldiers that lined the perimeter of the room threw him back into the center. The guard behind Jack laughed. He and his fellow Rüstov watched the scene play out like a sporting event. Trapped in the Magus’s chamber, the helpless prisoner backed away from the iron scorpion on the ground. His eyes darted back and forth, wide as golf balls. “Help me!” he screamed, looking directly at Jack. “Please!”
Jack was speechless. He was powerless to stop what was about to happen. The doomed man backed away from the hostless Magus and tripped over the steps leading up to the throne. He fell on his rear end and shuffled backward up the steps. The scorpion pounced. It crawled up the man’s leg in a flash and skittered over his chest. Jack could tell what was coming next. The scorpion latched onto the man’s shoulder with its tail, and then disappeared around his back. There was a noise like a heavy shovel digging into the earth, and Jack cringed as the man cried out in pain. Jack turned away, unable to watch the rest of the transformation. He saw only the Magus’s shadow on the wall as his shape went from being that of a man to something else. Something large and terrible. The screaming stopped and the Magus’s silhouette relaxed. The Rüstov emperor breathed out a sigh of relief and stretched. Jack turned back toward the Magus as his aides draped his robe over him and tied it off at the waist. The guard pushed Jack’s head down again. Jack made no effort to look back up this time around. He had seen enough.
It turned out that the Magus’s fresh, smooth-skinned hosts were not completely unblemished after all. Right next to his eye with the Rüstov mark, a large iron horn extended out from his temple, and six swordlike growths fanned out of his back like wings, three to each side. When Jack glimpsed the Magus earlier, he had mistakenly thought those elements were part of his throne. Now he knew
differently. They were part of him. The Magus looked like a cyborg version of the devil himself.
The Magus crossed the room and stood over Jack. “Rise,” he commanded. The Rüstov guard stood up and pulled Jack onto his feet. Jack did not look at the Magus until he had no other choice. The Rüstov emperor took him by the chin and lifted his head up, forcing him to meet his gaze. The Magus stared at him, studying him. Jack thought he was going to melt under the Rüstov leader’s penetrating, heartless eyes. Quite unexpectedly, his lips curled up, forming a thin smile. The Magus gave Jack a light tap on the cheek and rested his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Welcome home, my son.”
Jack did his best to sound brave. “I’m not your son.”
The Magus frowned and grumbled out a low growl.
Jack dropped to the ground in a heap. A searing hot knife was turning inside his brain. His eye was burning. He pressed his palm against it like he was afraid it might pop out of the socket. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the pain stopped. Jack rolled over onto his back and struggled to catch his breath. When he finally did, he looked up at the Magus and realized something very scary. The Magus hadn’t moved an inch. He had hit Jack with his mind.
Jack tried to get up but decided to give it a few seconds first. He rested on all fours for a moment. The Magus nodded to a guard, who stepped on Jack’s back, pushing him down. The guard knelt to Jack’s level and grabbed his hair, pulling his head up to face the Rüstov emperor. “I wasn’t talking to you,” the Magus said. “You will speak when spoken to. I will not have this reunion with my son spoiled by your filthy tongue.”
Jack was gasping for air. Drool dripped from his lower lip. “What did you just do to me?”
The Magus laughed. “I simply helped your infection along, ever so slightly. Get used to the pain. There’s more to come.”
Jack’s mind was racing. The hopelessness of his situation was starting to sink in. “I can’t . . . I can’t use my powers.”
The Magus smiled with chilling confidence. “Patience . . . you will.”
The guard let go of Jack’s hair. His head dropped and banged against the floor. The light over the Magus’s throne went out, and the Rüstov emperor’s mechanical eye glowed in the darkness. Light trails followed the eye as the Magus turned away and Jack’s vision blurred. He felt dizzy. Somewhere deep inside him, he heard Khalix laughing as the world faded away.
CHAPTER
1
Ghost in the Machine
Solomon Roka moved through the Rüstov super-dreadnaught Apocalypse with the swift, silent purpose of a black ops commando. He was a tall man with a lean, muscular build, short black hair, and three days’ worth of stubble on his face. He wore a formfitting black suit lined with flexible circuitry and carried a backpack filled with all the tools of his profession. Roka crept around corners like a thief in the night, and although the time of day in deep space was relative, he was without question a thief. He was there to steal the future of the Rüstov people.
Roka approached a sliding metal door with a small window right at eye level. As he reached out to open it, a green light lit up on its access panel. He froze in place and his heart followed suit. The door was about to open from the other side. Rüstov sentries were coming through. They hadn’t seen him yet, but he had only a few seconds before they did.
Roka had no cover in the empty passageway. The door on the opposite end of the hall was too far away, but he ran for it, hugging the shadows as he went. The sound of compressed air being released filled the hallway as the doors began to slide apart behind him. He had time left for only a simple choice: right or left. The lack of an exit in either direction was not a problem. The uncertainty surrounding each option was. Roka made up his mind and activated his Ghost Suit. The circuits covering his body blazed with light, rendering his molecules intangible as he leaped through the wall directly to his left. He just hoped he wasn’t diving into a situation worse than the one he was trying to escape.
Roka found himself alone when he emerged on the other side of the wall. He stood on the engineering deck of the ship, overlooking the Apocalypse’s powerful warp core. He had to get his bearings straight and find his way to the detention block, but first he needed a minute to collect himself and gather his nerves. They were scattered everywhere, which was unusual for him. This kind of operation was Roka’s stock in trade, but this was more than just another job. This breakout wasn’t about money; his own freedom was on the line this time too. There was something else as well. The Apocalypse wasn’t just any Rüstov ship. It was the personal flagship of the Rüstov emperor. Roka was quite happy to go on living without ever having the honor of meeting the Rüstov leader.
Getting back to business, Roka activated a holographic map-finder device on his wrist. It emitted a high-frequency sonar pulse that generated blueprints of the ship and projected them into the air in front him. The ship’s plans glowed brightly in the darkness, faded down, and returned as each sonic pulse sounded. Roka saw where he needed to go. His objective was three hundred feet below him, straight down.
Roka measured the drop with a laser ruler and took out a length of special evaporating rope. He latched himself to a railing overlooking the ship’s engine, jumped over the top, and dove down alongside the white-hot column of pure energy that powered the starship’s Infinite Warp Core. Air whistled through Roka’s hair as he fell, anchored to the walkway above. He swung his feet out to land as the floor raced toward him. The thin, black rope stretched like a bungee cord, slowing his descent, and then dissolved into smoke as he touched down softly on the ground. The jump would have been perfect if not for the fact that he landed right among a trio of Rüstov Para-Soldiers.
Before the Rüstov even had time to register his presence, Roka flipped down a pair of shades and set off a light grenade to blind his enemies. He grabbed the Para-Soldier closest to him by the wrist, turned, and flipped it over his shoulder. The Rüstov sentry crashed into one of its fellow guards, and Roka detached a small disk from his belt. He slapped it onto the third Para-Soldier’s chest. Electric currents poured out of the disk, ripping through the Rüstov’s body and permanently disabling it. The first two Para-Soldiers were just getting back up when Roka jumped and threw both feet into them, kicking them back over the edge of the platform. They fell into the warp core’s towering column of energy and were vaporized instantly. The whole fight, if it could truly be described as such, lasted all of seven seconds.
The Rüstov threat neutralized, Roka once again activated his Ghost Suit and phased through the wall on his right. He emerged in the detention block and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what would be the hardest part of the mission. Roka walked down the hall, forcing himself to ignore the pleas for help coming from the prisoners who were locked up in the cells to his left and right. It wasn’t easy. Roka knew what was in store for them. A long time ago, he’d been a Rüstov prisoner himself. It was absolutely killing him to leave them behind, but there was nothing he could do for them. Not here. Not now. But maybe . . . just maybe, if what he’d been told was true, there was hope for them yet.
At end of the hall, Roka arrived at a locked door. He could see through its foggy laser-proof window well enough to make out a prison lab on the other side. This was it. Roka narrowed the focus on his Ghost Suit to phase only his hand. It flickered like a faded movie projection as he ran it through the lock, shorting out its circuits. The door slid open and Roka entered the lab.
The room was empty, which was good, but Roka still didn’t like what he found inside. In the center of the lab was an operating table surrounded by vicious-looking surgical tools and trays of techno-organic hardware. Roka didn’t know what kind of sick experiments went on in this room, but it was clear that whatever prisoner had spent time on that operating table wasn’t dealing with the standard Rüstov infection.
Next to the table was a stasis pod, large enough to fit a single person inside. Next to that, a holo-screen readout displayed
the words “Infection Level: 25%.” Roka plugged a CodeBreaker into a data port on the pod’s access panel, and the cover rose up like the lid of a coffin. Gas poured out from the inside. As the vapors cleared, Roka noticed a red light flashing on the pod, blinking out the words “Incubation Period Interrupted.” He’d set off a silent alarm. Roka frowned and, in a very businesslike manner, knelt down to remove a pair of special suits from his pack. He held one out toward the figure in the pod, who was just waking up. “Put this on. We don’t have much time.”
A groggy voice called out from inside the pod. “What’s going on? Who are you?”
Roka kicked his pack away and stood up, pulling his suit on over his clothes. “I’m Solomon Roka. I’m here to rescue you.”
Jack Blank stepped out of the stasis pod and nearly fell over. Roka caught him and propped him up. “Can you walk?” Jack nodded, and Roka thrust a space suit into his arms. “Put this on. Quickly. We need to be gone before the guards show u—”
They moved into the light and Roka stopped talking.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Jack asked.
It took Roka a moment to answer. He was locked in a frozen stare, transfixed by Jack’s appearance. “You, uh . . .” Roka shook his head and started sealing up his own suit. “You’ve got something on your eye, kid.”
Jack touched a hand to his face and drew in a sharp breath. He checked his reflection in the stasis pod’s glass lid, and sure enough, there it was. A parting gift from the Rüstov. Just a little something to take home with him. The mark of Rüstov infection surrounded Jack’s eye like a line drawn with black paint.
CHAPTER
2
The Great Escape
An explosion tore through the Apocalypse’s hull and the inescapable vacuum of space ripped Jack and Roka out of the ship. They shot out into the cosmos wearing the armored space suits Roka had brought with him. Jack went spinning wildly into the void. His eyes went wide as he tried to draw focus on the endless sea of stars around him. He was in space. Deep space, light-years from home. It was almost too much to process. One minute he was sleeping in a metal pod, and the next thing he knew, some complete stranger had pulled him out here. His brain was still playing catch-up. What was he doing in that pod? Where was here? If the dying planets and Rüstov warships all around were any indication, it was no place good. Jack’s head was full of cobwebs. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to get far away from this place as fast as possible. Unfortunately, he was completely out of control.