Terra's World (13 page)
‘Well, right now I’d have difficulty getting Zst’kh’s attention away from this rogue planet he’s spotted,’ mused Hardison. ‘I’ve never seen him so happy. Steinberg thinks it may be nothing, but Zst’kh’s convinced we’re under attack. He’s got his own war at last. I don’t think he’d be interested in yours.’
- Rogue planet?
asked Pktk, intrigued.
‘What rogue planet?’ asked Terra.
‘Steinberg spotted it a few hours ago. Big black thing, about the same size as Fnrr. Hardly shows up at all on the scans – it’s like a hole in space. And it’s headed this way.’
There was a sharp, clattering sound. Terra and the others looked round to see what had happened.
Preceptor Shm, his black oval eyes wide, had dropped his bowl of zff.
- What . . . what did he say?
* * *
Colonel Hardison wasn’t using a translation cube; he didn’t have to in order to speak to Terra and was quite enjoying having an old-style human non-psychic conversation.
The cube that was sitting next to Pktk’s radio in Lsh-Lff had been translating Terra and Hardison’s conversation for the benefit of the Fnrrns listening in, but it couldn’t work the other way. When Shm spoke up, Hardison heard his words through the radio in the original Mlmln. The Colonel had only picked up a smattering of the clipped, clickety tongue during his stay in Hrrng, but out of respect for the old Preceptor, he decided to try to answer him in his language.
- Black planet,
said Hardison in faltering, basic Mlmln.
Black planet coming.
Preceptor Shm shuddered as if Hardison’s words had struck him in the chest. Terra gazed at him in confusion. She’d never seen such fear in the old Fnrrn’s eyes, not even during the invasion.
- Preceptor?
she asked.
- Oh no,
said Preceptor Shm, almost inaudibly.
Oh no . . .
The day had arrived, the day of joy, the day of bliss, the day of perfection.
In the time that had elapsed between the philosopher-priests’ announcement and today, the day their plan would be enacted upon, the scientists of Perfection had laboured upon the instruments of deliverance.
Crowds gathered on the steps of the Temple-Palace of Sha’ha-las at dawn. The philosopher-priests and the scientists emerged together to rapturous cheers.
They carried before them a great golden urn, a sealed vessel within which the Deliverers, as they had come to call them, were contained.
At the appointed hour, the urn was opened and the Deliverers were released to carry out their task. To preserve. To perfect.
The Deliverers sprang forth, and began to unweave Perfection. Cell by cell, molecule by molecule, they took the planet apart.
The people of Perfection sang songs of joy as they and their world were reduced to fine, black dust.
It was over within moments. The Deliverers reproduced at an astonishing rate, and soon they had swarmed across the planet’s surface, leaving it silent. Black. Dead.
And so, the story of the planet Perfection came to an end.
Except it didn’t.
The Deliverers had been endowed with just enough consciousness to carry out their task. Find life, and perfect it through dissolution at the molecular level.
Now the planet was dead. But the Deliverers’ task had not yet been fulfilled.
As they swarmed, communicating through a low-level psychic field, they began to combine their meagre, insect-like intelligence and learned to think as one.
The Deliverers understood the concept of ‘planet’. It had been vital to their programming.
Knowing that they were on a planet – and knowing what a planet was, and how such things were formed, from the accretion disc of a cooling star – they deduced that theirs was not the only such planet. There were billions. And logic dictated that of billions of worlds, at the very least hundreds, if not thousands, would support life.
Their programme was not complete.
The Deliverers devised a solution, a way to fulfil their task.
They ate away at the planet itself, multiplying by the billion, until the rock, mantel and core consisted entirely of black dust. Of themselves.
Then, using gravitational vibrations, they pushed the planet out of orbit and out into space. Drifting, steering, surging, riding the winds of gravity and spatial flux, the Black Planet began its quest in search of life to perfect.
The Coshrai people of the planet Sagaska were the first to see it.
3.1
-
I
t has to be here somewhere . . . Honestly, Qss, can’t you keep your scrolls in orthographical order?
Preceptor Shm was rummaging through the contents of Lsh-Lff Polynasium’s antiquities library. ArchRector Qss-Jff winced and flinched as his old friend manhandled and shuffled the ancient scrolls, many older than the Polynasium, some older than the city itself.
- They ARE in orthographical order, Shm, you just don’t know your Dsktn spellings as well as you think you do. Look, get out of the way.
ArchRector Qss-Jff elbowed Shm aside and peered at the shelves. He’d recently had his eyes replaced and wasn’t convinced that this new genetically optimised pair were half as good as his old ones.
- Now, what is it we’re looking for again?
- The Zfft-Zkks Testimonial,
said Shm.
It’s the most complete account of the legend of the Black Planet. It’s nine eras old.
He sighed.
I know
EXACTLY
where my copy is back at the Preceptorate.
- But we’re not there, are we, Shm?
muttered Qss-Jff. His gaze fell upon a scroll bound with a black band. On a hunch he took it down.
- Ah! Here we are! Zfft-Zkks. I found it right away.
He smiled. Shm took the scroll and frowned.
- It’s a twenty-sixth era reprint,
he grumbled.
My copy is one of the originals.
- Does this one have all the same words?
enquired Qss-Jff.
- Yes,
murmured Shm.
- Well then,
said Qss-Jff,
stop being such an ossified old fss-sft and let’s have a look at it.
With a disgruntled mumble, Shm took the scroll. The little gravity platform on which the two old academics were standing gently descended the thirty metres or so to the floor of the library.
Below them, Terra, Billy, Fthfth and Pktk watched them coming down.
- For a moment I thought they were going to shove each other off,
whispered Fthfth to Terra.
The platform reached the floor and Shm strode along the aisle, through a door and into a reading room, the others hurrying along behind him. Billy shuffled up alongside Terra.
‘What’s he got there?’ he asked.
‘This black planet thing that’s approaching – there’s a legend told about it on many worlds. I think I may even have heard about it when I was little,’ said Terra, suppressing the sharp pang of grief and worry that any flash of memory involving Lbbp always caused her. She composed herself and went on. ‘The legend says it drifts through space and any planet it comes near to . . . well, everything there dies and there’s nothing left but black dust.’
‘A cursed planet. Sounds like a pirate legend to me, like a ghost ship or something,’ reflected Billy.
‘Well, on a much bigger scale, that’s more or less exactly what it is,’ replied Terra. She was impressed at how many things Billy was able to take in his stride, and made a mental note to tell him so.
Shm was now unfurling the scroll across a dark stone table, and reading it intently.
‘But what makes the Preceptor think that the legend is true?’ asked Billy. And is he sure that this planet that’s approaching now is the same one?’
‘I don’t know,’ whispered Terra. ‘I’m dying to ask what this scroll he’s found is, but I don’t want to disturb him.’
- So what’s this scroll you’ve found, Preceptor?
asked Fthfth loudly.
Shm grunted and looked up.
- The Testimonial of Zfft-Zkks gives details of all the recorded sightings of the Black Planet. I’m trying to find the last one.
- Why the last one in particular?
asked Pktk.
- Because the planet hasn’t been seen for eras,
explained Shm.
It spent a whole epoch rampaging through space, wiping out entire species and cultures and then suddenly it vanished. Which suggests that the last race to encounter it—
- Found a way to beat it,
suggested Pktk, smiling.
- Exactly,
said Shm.
And if they did beat it, or at least repel it, maybe we can too.
Shm read on, pleased that the others were permitting him to do so without interruption.
Finally, he broke the silence, -
Here, this seems to be the last entry.
He gave a cough and read aloud:
- ‘In the ninth cycle of the ninety-ninth orbit of the Age of Lamentation’ – odd calendric system, never mind – ‘In the ninth cycle of the ninety-ninth orbit of the Age of Lamentation, the Hosheen people of the planet Despair’ – hmm, cheerful bunch – ‘saw the Black Planet from a great distance. It approached Despair from such an angle that it was visible for many days as a black dot against their sun, which they called Hope’ – oh I see, Hope and Despair, quite poetic I suppose.
Shm coughed and read on.
‘The Hosheen appealed to their neighbours, the GoGorigols of the nearby planet Osfal, for help, and a plan was hatched. Despair was abandoned, the Hosheen crowding into any vessel fit for space travel. The GoGorigols helped, sending many ships. The Black Planet came on, arriving just as the last refugees fled. And the Hosheen made the ultimate sacrifice . . .’
The listeners exchanged worried glances. That didn’t sound encouraging. Shm went on.
- As the Black Planet bore down upon Despair, scouring its surface, the Hosheen fired a massive anti-matter probe into the heart of their star Hope and detonated it.
Pktk gave a quiet yelp of alarm. Shm either didn’t hear or ignored it.
- The star imploded, becoming a black hole. As the Hosheen watched, their dead sun consumed their homeworld and the Black Planet, dragging it out of space and time, never to return.
Shm rolled up the scroll. There was a moment’s heavy silence. At last, Shm spoke.
- Hm. That’s not really an option, is it?
he said.
3.2
-
C
an I ask you a question?
The Gfjk-Hhh paused mid rant.
He’d been boasting to Lbbp of having thwarted yet another conspiracy against him. At least, it had looked like a conspiracy to him. Lots of things looked like conspiracies. He’d read something about how whenever an absolute ruler is assassinated, it’s very often his own bodyguards who finish him off, so he’d had his personal protection squad arrested and cast into the gshkth pit to be on the safe side. When the victor had emerged, exhausted and bleeding, he’d had him shot by his
NEW
personal protection squad. Good for the new boys to get some proper on-the-job training.
The Gfjk-Hhh had been in the middle of explaining how he was going to ensure the unswerving loyalty of his new bodyguards (he’d had a few ideas and was currently favouring one involving getting them to spy on each other during their brief periods of free time) when Lbbp spoke.
The Gfjk was stunned into momentary speechlessness. Lbbp hadn’t said a word for days, not since the Gfjk had had the pleasure of telling him of Terra’s return to Fnrr. (And yes, what was going on with the effort to capture her? Heads would roll! Well, maybe not heads, but body parts of some description. What else rolls?) The Gfjk had more or less resigned himself to using Lbbp as a sort of silent stress toy. It was less fun tormenting someone who didn’t react to the torment, but it was still more fun than not tormenting him at all.
The Gfjk took a moment to formulate his reply, then spoke.
- Yes?
he said.
- Isn’t this all a bit disappointing?
The Gfjk had no idea what Lbbp could possibly mean. Disappointing? What could be disappointing about wielding absolute power?
- Disappointing?
he replied.
- You know,
said Lbbp, turning to face the Gfjk-Hhh,
after last time.
The Gfjk really was confused now.
- Last time? What last time?
Lbbp smiled.
- The last time you were here.
- I was here yesterday, don’t you remember? You didn’t say a word, of course . . . Wait, were you asleep? Because if you’re going to start sleeping through my visits, I shall have to—
- No, no,
said Lbbp calmly.
The last time YOU were here, among us.
The Gfjk peered at him in bewilderment for a moment, then burst into hissing laughter.
- Hkh hkh hkh! The last time I . . . you mean the last time the Gfjk-Hhh was . . . all those eras ago? Hkh hkh hkh hkh! Surely, Deceiver, you of all people, you should—
Lbbp stood up. The very sight of this startled the Gfjk into silence. Lbbp leaned right up against the crystal and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.
- Hey – it’s just us, just you and me. We don’t have to pretend.
- But I AM pretending!
said the Gfjk, who suddenly wondered if he’d said this a bit too loud.
- Are you?
said Lbbp, fixing the Gfjk with a stare.
Are you sure?
The Gfjk-Hhh had no immediate reply, so Lbbp went on.
- You’ve fulfilled the prophecy. Whether you meant to or not. There IS a Gfjk-Hhh reigning over Mlml, just like it said there would be. What makes you think it isn’t supposed to be you?
- But . . .
the Gfjk struggled to put his thoughts in order,
but you – you gave me the idea to . . .
- Well, that’s the thing about prophecies,
said Lbbp,
they work in strange ways. What if meeting me was all part of the plan? Why would you assume the new Gfjk would be born
knowing who he was? What sort of newborn comes into the world knowing its own fate? It’d be singled out from birth as an anomaly, a sort of hyper-intelligent freak of nature. They’d spot him, they’d see him coming – the Gfjk-Hhh’s enemies would have carried him off and killed him in infancy long before he’d had a chance to fulfil his destiny.
The Gfjk considered all this. It was making sense. A glorious, radiant sense.
Lbbp went on, -
Wouldn’t it be better if the child were born in innocence, in humble surroundings, and only discovered his true identity – perhaps met someone who would inspire him to go and discover it himself – when he was of age? When he was
READY
?
I was ready, thought the Gfjk-Hhh. I was so ready. He smiled to himself. Lbbp saw the smile but did not react.
- But like I said, it’s all a bit disappointing. Last time round, you united a nation. You built a whole society out of nothing. You gave the people rights and freedoms. This time, all you’ve done is play petty, cruel games with them, toy with them. Hardly the actions of a great and noble leader.
Lbbp sat down and turned his back on the Gfjk.
Maybe you’re right,
he said.
Maybe you are a fake after all.
- How
DARE
you!
shouted the Gfjk, rising up to his full height.
Got you, thought Lbbp.
