Terra's World (22 page)

3.39

-
I
diot.

Grand Marshal Zst’kh wasn’t much of a fan of slates or other such technological baubles, but something had told Professor Steinberg that the warlord would want to see the Gfjk-Hhh’s single-handed assault on the Black Planet.

Zst’kh watched the imposter die without a flicker of emotion and handed the slate back to the Ymn scientist.

- It is of no consequence. Proceed with arming the warhead.

Steinberg had watched the warhead being loaded into the cone of the rocket a few minutes previously. Now, as the radiation meters on the display in front of him surged into the red, the Lance of the Occluded Ones was finally ready to fly.

Steinberg glanced around him. Where was Colonel Hardison? He’d thought his colleague would have wanted to be here for this.

Zst’kh gazed up at the Lance. He hadn’t shared the Ymn warrior’s bizarre theories about the Black Planet with the Ymn scientist. He didn’t want to cloud St’nn-brrkh’s mind with doubts at such a moment as this.

Steinberg looked at the display. In the middle of the console there was a screen showing a single symbol. Rhythmically, the symbol changed.

Steinberg’s knowledge of the G’grk numeration system was a little sketchy, but he knew a countdown when he saw one.

3.40

-
W
hat’s going on down there?
asked Pktk.

- Never mind that, you just get on with . . . whatever that is
, said Billy, pointing at Pktk’s ever-expanding technological creation.

They’d ungagged Yshn out of sympathy, and were beginning to wish they hadn’t.

- It’s the others, isn’t it? The other New Believers. They got my message. They’ve come for Terra.
Yshn smiled.

Billy looked at the street below them. There was a crowd gathering, some of them clad in those white robes. They were hammering on the door of the building. It was locked, being a private residential block, but as the crowd grew in numbers and anger, Billy wasn’t sure how long the door could hold.

- Let me speak to them,
said Terra.

- No,
said Billy,
in a minute Pktk will have his gadgetoid ready, and then you’re up.

They had already realised that once Pktk’s telepathic transmitter was functional, it would indeed have to be Terra who used it. Her interface had been especially designed for Ymn use; Fthfth and Pktk’s Fnrrn skulls wouldn’t even fit into the dome. Billy had never used an interface before; this wasn’t exactly the moment to try it out for the first time. So Terra’s job it was.

Billy thought for a second, then said, -
I’LL
talk to them.

-
YOU
?
chorused everybody, including Yshn.

- Yes, me,
said Billy.
You’ve all got things to do, and besides, I think I might be able to offer them a new angle on things. Terra,
he said urgently,
whatever it was you did that time you spoke to, like, everybody . . . do it again.
He handed Terra her slate.

It had in fact been Pktk who had set up that particular stunt, but the slate had stored the process in its memory. Terra looked back through the last couple of days’ activity, found the program and ran it again.

- There,
she said. J
ust tap the screen when you’re ready.

Billy took the slate and went into the servery. He needed a bit of privacy. And perhaps a bit of configuration 6.

Pktk looked up.

- It’s ready,
he said. He looked at Terra.

- Are you?
he asked.

3.41

B
illy swallowed a chunk of configuration 6 and gripped the slate tight. He looked straight into the screen, as Terra had done. He tapped the slate.

Down at the entrance to the building, Billy’s enormous face replaced that of the late Gfjk-Hhh on the visualiser next to the door.

He was also seen on the giant screen in the Forum; his sudden appearance roused the courtiers and technicians from their stunned torpor.

His face popped up on visualisers in homes and workplaces throughout Mlml.

After a blip or so, he spoke.

- People of Hrrng . . . erm . . .

Lend me your ears? They didn’t have any. What then? Listen to me? Bit weak. It’d have to do.

- Listen to me! My name is Billy Dolphin, and I’m sorry about the Gfjk-Thingy, and look, I know you’re all feeling a bit disappointed at the moment, but—

From the street below, he heard cries of,
- It’s another one! Another Ymn!

- That’s right,
he said,
I’m a Ymn, and that means—

- Ymns are the bringers of lies!
screamed a voice from below. This was taken up by the crowd.
- Bringer of lies! Bringer of lies!

- Yes,
said Billy.
You’re right, Ymns are the bringers of lies. The Master Liars. Biggest fibbers in the galaxy, that’s us. We can lie bigger and better than anyone. But you know what else Ymns can do?

A drop in the clamour as the crowd pondered Billy’s question.

- We can tell lies from truth! We can figure out what’s a lie and what isn’t! We learn it at a very early age because we have to! Life on Rrth would be impossible if you couldn’t!

The battering at the door ceased. Billy had their attention. He went on.

- When you’re a Ymn, you get lied to from the moment you’re born! As soon as you can see and hear, all you see and hear is lies! They lie to you at home, at school, in church, at work . . . Every show on
TV
is full of lies and the adverts between them consist
ENTIRELY
of lies. Massive bare-faced whoppers, all of them.

The crowd listened intently.

- Even the people you love lie to you! My mum said I’d be thin by now! My dad said playing rugby wouldn’t hurt! And the only girl who ever said she fancied me turned out to be a shape-shifting insect bounty hunter who tried to suck my brains out, so don’t tell me I don’t understand disappointment!

A few titters at this.

- But what you do, when you’re a Ymn, is you listen to what people tell you and you figure out whether it’s
LIKELY
to be true or not. Okay, example . . . if an advert tells you that, say, this new shampoo gets your hair clean, that’s probably true. If it says this new shampoo will make you rich, handsome and irresistible, it’s probably
NOT
true. Follow me?

Silence.

- Right, bad example, you’re all bald.
Billy slapped himself.
All right, try this: what’s more probable: that two thousand orbits ago, someone successfully predicted the future – which you used to think was scientifically impossible, remember – and said he’d come back from the dead –
ALSO
impossible – while somehow forgetting to mention the part where he turns out to be a total jerk and then gets himself killed when things get a bit serious . . . OR, that some guy made some stuff up to make himself look good?

A different kind of silence. A sheepish, awkward silence. Billy let it bed in for a second and then continued:

- Now here’s the thing; Terra’s in here working on a way of stopping that big black thingy. If you give her time to sort it out, then there’s a
CHANCE
we’ll all see tomorrow. But if you break in here and stop her, then
WE WILL ALL DIE
. Like,
NOW
. You’ve got literally nothing to lose. Just give her time. Meanwhile, if I’m wrong, and we’re all going to die in a minute, don’t you have better things to do with your last moments? Aren’t there people you’d rather be with?

The crowd exchanged glum, guilty glances. The ones at the back of the group shuffled away first; soon all had dispersed.

Billy slumped to the floor. He let out a great, deep sigh. After a few seconds he got up, rubbed his face vigorously and walked back into the main room.

- Told you I’d have a word,
Billy said to Pktk.
So, where are we up to?

Pktk gestured at Billy to be quiet. He pointed to the middle of the floor.

In a kneeling position, her hands on her knees, Terra was there. In front of her stood the interface, its glass dome glowing gently.

Terra breathed hard.

- If you’re going to do this it has to be now,
said Fthfth, looking at the darkening sky.

Terra looked across at Billy. She smiled but there was fear in her eyes. He smiled back, and she saw no fear in his.

‘You really think I can do this?’ she said.

‘I really think you can do anything,’ he said simply.

Terra jammed her head into the dome.
- Do it, Pktk.

There were three blips, and then . . .

3.42

Terra opened her eyes.

She stood on the surface of the Black Planet.

This isn’t real, she thought to herself. I couldn’t survive if I were actually here. It’s just a visual representation my brain’s creating.

She looked to the sky. It was dominated by the disc of Fnrr, orange-green, huge, beautiful.

She looked to the ground. Black dust. It swirled and pulsed.

- you
YOU
are not
NOT US
not deliverer
WE ARE
we
DELIVERERS
are why are
WHY
you
WHY ARE
why
WHO
are who
ARE
why are you
HERE
here?

A thousand whispering voices inside her head. It was true. They were intelligent.

And anything intelligent could be reasoned with.

That was the theory, anyway.

-
HOW
how do you
HOW CAN
you can
WHO ARE
you be
BE HERE
?

- I’ve come to talk.

- life form
LIFE
form
FORM YOU
you are
ARE
a
LIFE
life form you
YOU
must be
PERFECTED
perfected
PERFECTED

- You’ll get a chance in a minute. I’m actually on that planet up there. I’ve projected myself telepathically into your communication system. Like I said, I’m here to talk.

- all
ALL LIFE
life forms
FORMS
are imperfI
MPERFECT
ect I
MPERFECTIONS
must
MUST
be perfected
PERFECTED
deliverers
DELIVERERS
we are

- Why?

- the mission
THE PURPOSE
the purpose
THE MISSION
purpose
PURPOSE
it is
IS OUR PURPOSE
deliver
DELIVER PERFECT
perfect remove
REMOVE
all trace
TRACE
life

All trace of life, thought Terra. That’s why they erase the cities as well as the people. The people of Perfection didn’t want their culture to crumble and decay without them, they wanted it all gone.

-
CORRECT
correct

Oops, forgot they can hear my thoughts, thought Terra. Better keep asking them questions before they get too good a look inside my head.

- Who gave you your mission?

- The
PERFECT
perfect ones
ONES THEY
sought
SOUGHT
preserve
TO PRESERVE THEIR
perfection
PERFECTION
no
NO DECAY
decay
NO
decline
DECLINE
perfection
PERFECTION
preserved for ever
FOR EVER PRESERVED FOR EVER
delivered them
WE DELIVERED THEM
them

- Your creators were life forms, but they were perfect? I thought all life forms were imperfect.

-
WE PERFECTED
perfected them
THEM THEY ARE
are perfect
PERFECT NOW
they are
THEY
are perfect now delivered
DELIVERED PERFECT
fect

So much for that line of attack, Terra thought. That had been Billy’s idea.

She looked up; Fnrr looked so close, she felt like she could reach up and touch it. The ground beneath her swirled more actively; tendrils of black vapour started to snake up around her ankles.

We must be nearly close enough, she thought. Any moment, these tendrils of dust will reach out towards Fnrr. The transfer will begin. That’s how it happens.

Terra didn’t know how she knew this, but she knew it absolutely.

Hey eye was caught by a sudden flash from the surface of Fnrr. From her old cartography lessons, she recognised the place. It was the Central Plains.

The Lance. The G’grk had fired the Lance. It would take maybe two minutes to reach the Black Planet. When it struck, the Deliverers would be scattered through space. Fnrr would die in seconds and then the curse of the Black Planet would spread to all worlds. There would be hundreds of black planets!

Wait a second . . .

Why weren’t there
already
hundreds of black planets?

If the Deliverers were self-replicating, why did they leave their victim-worlds scoured and lifeless? Why didn’t they stay and convert them into roaming weapons, as they had done Perfection? Hundreds of wandering Black Planets, becoming thousands, millions . . . Surely that would enable them to complete their mission much more quickly?

Terra found that she knew the answer. I can hear their thoughts too, she realised.

There must be only one Black Planet; one engine of deliverance. The Deliverers must be unified. If it were otherwise, if there were many Deliverer-worlds, the scattered and divergent populations could come into conflict. The rival black planets might hunt each other down, the Deliverers destroying each other before their mission could be completed . . .

A faint glimmer of another idea came to Terra. But just a glimmer. Her mind surged. Panic could seize her at any moment. She fought to keep it at bay and maintain focus, trying to force the idea to coalesce into something useful. She gazed up at Fnrr. It was teeming with life. Precious, fragile life.

Life . . .

- So now your mission is to wander space in search of life forms to perfect?

-
WE
search for
SEARCH
life we
LIFE
and
PERFECT
perfect it
PERFECT IT

- How do you decide what
ORDER
to perfect them in?

-
WE
find them
THEM
and we
WE
perfect
AND WE PERFECT THEM
deliver them
THEM

- As soon as you find them? You perfect the nearest life form?

- yes
YES

- So if there were a life form nearer to you than the ones on the orange-green planet, you’d have to perfect them first, or you’d be in violation of your mission, correct?

-
CORRECT
correct

- How do you define life? What makes something alive?

A pause.

-
LIFE
life
REPRODUCES
produces life
EVOLVES
evolves
LIFE
has
HAS
a
PURPOSE
purpose

Terra could see a glinting object above the planet’s surface. She had seconds.

- You define life as reproduction and evolution with a purpose?

- it
IT
IS
is a
SUFFICIENT
sufficient definition
DEFINITION

- You’re surrounded by life forms! Right here! All around you!

- explain
EXPLAIN

- You
ARE
life forms. The Deliverers. You’re alive! You may have been engineered and created, but for centuries you’ve been reproducing and evolving to fulfil your purpose! This planet is teeming with life forms, and they need to be perfected! They need to be delivered!
NOW
!

There was no reply.

They’re not going for it, thought Terra.

She looked up; a silvery dot was now visible. The Lance will hit any second, she thought. I’ve failed.

The ground trembled. It shuddered.

It shook violently. Terra wondered why she hadn’t fallen over, then remembered that she wasn’t really there at all.

Cracks appeared in the surface; fissures, faults, crevasses, opening, widening into gorges, canyons.

It’s working, thought Terra. It’s working. They’re turning on each other.

The sound of a thousand distant voices. Tiny voices. Whispering voices. Screaming. All screaming.

Switch the interface off, thought Terra. Switch it off . . . Switch it off,
NOW . . .
I don’t want to see this . . .

The planet’s surface quaked, pulsed, bucked and heaved. The black dust blew and surged, a dark sandstorm blotting out the sky, obscuring Fnrr.

Switch it off, switch it off,
PLEASE
switch it off . . .

The ground fell away beneath her; she was drifting in a blinding, whipping maelstrom of dust, which thinned, faded, cleared to reveal a gleaming missile bearing
RIGHT DOWN
ON HER . .
.