by Mitch Benn
There was something there; a single vast object occupying the whole length of the building. Shiny, cylindrical, lying on its side, the end nearest him tapering to a point, the far end – he could just about make it out – finned and flared. He’d been an Air Force officer long enough to know exactly what he was looking at.
The room was flooded with light. A familiar voice came from behind him.
- If you wanted to know what we were building, Ymn, you should have asked us, said Grand Marshal Zst’kh.
- I DID ask, responded Hardison, many times over. You said you’d tell me when the time was right, remember?
- Indeed I did, said the Grand Marshal, gesturing to his guards to lower their pulse-orbs. And now you have finally taken the initiative and found out for yourself, the right time has arrived. Keeping secrets, Zst’kh said, with a dismissive sneer, is not the G’grk way.
- But building giant missiles behind closed doors is? challenged Hardison. How long have you been working on this thing? Steinberg only detected the Black Planet yesterday. There’s no way you put this monstrosity together overnight. He approached the Grand Marshal and looked him right in the face. So who were you going to use this thing on? Dskt? Mlml?
- Hopefully, neither, said Zst’kh. This – he gestured toward the missile – was Marshal Sk’shk’s creation. He had our Dsktn hosts work on this weapon during the occupation. If Dskt had rebelled against us, or Mlml had proved impossible to subdue, then an example would have been made of the unruly nation, in order to pacify the other. Don’t look so shocked, Hrrd’s-nn, he said, registering the Colonel’s disgust, your planet’s history is full of instances of such actions being taken by conquerors against the conquered. Was it not your own people, he said, fixing Hardison with a stare, who vaporised two whole cities full of civilians in order to offer just such an example? Even in our own history, there is nothing so . . . uncompromising.
Hardison’s jaw clenched. - That was different, he said, although if pressed, he wasn’t sure he could explain exactly how at that moment. Fortunately, Zst’kh went on.
- But then, the . . . curious events . . . in Hrrng unfolded, and the war . . . ended, he said uncomfortably. All work on this project was suspended. Few even know of this weapon’s existence. I was only informed myself upon my investiture. So when St’nn-brkhh warned us of the Black Planet’s approach – and the Mlmln scientist identified it as the dreaded destroyer of legend – I ordered the missile to be completed. The warhead is almost prepared. If St’nn-brkhh is correct about the time of the Black Planet’s arrival, then the weapon will be ready to fire with just moments to spare.
Colonel Hardison studied the gleaming rocket; it certainly looked powerful. Would it be accurate enough? Did the G’grks even understand the technology that had gone into creating it? Might they destroy Fnrr in their attempt to save it?
Grand Marshal Zst’kh, it seemed, harboured no such doubts. - So you see, Hrrd’s-nn, the Occluded Ones are indeed wise. He smiled. They have denied us our place as Fnrr’s rulers in order that we might become its SAVIOURS.
Hardison hoped the Grand Marshal was right.
3.9
‘Are you all right?’ asked Billy quietly.
Terra breathed hard and nodded.
She’d clenched her eyes shut as she’d passed into the domed chamber but opened them soon after. There was something so distinctive about the way sound reflected off those curved quartz walls that there was no mistaking where she was, even without looking.
With a deep breath, she’d opened her eyes. The dome looked more like the way it had the first time she’d seen it, on that first day at the Lyceum. The holographic portraits of long-dead Preceptors had been restored, the damage done during the invasion repaired. There were no blue G’grk banners fluttering from the ceiling, although her mind’s eye was treacherously painting them back in.
Fthfth was looking at her slate. - There, she said, I’ve loaded all the files I could gather about the Black Planet up onto the Source.
Terra was surprised. - You managed to get onto the Source?
Pktk held his own slate up. - The Source is still accepting submissions of information; it’s just blocking requests to READ information. I suppose the Gfjk didn’t think there’d be any danger in people telling him things, just in them finding stuff out. But it means I can figure out what he’s done and maybe even how to undo it. Pktk smiled quietly. Idiot, he muttered. I would have totally thought of that.
Fthfth coughed and went on. - I’ve ALSO loaded an astroscopic plan of the trajectory of the Black Planet. Hopefully the Extrapolator will . . . well, extrapolate something.
Billy looked around. The dome reminded him of the circular reading room in the big Central Library back home, only shinier. He remembered being told about a curious acoustic feature of the reading room whereby the tiniest sound would travel diametrically across the room, so you could have a whispered conversation from a great distance as long as you sat directly opposite each other. He and Lydia – sorry, TERRA – had tried this once and it had worked, much to their amusement. He thought about suggesting trying it out in this room but decided against it. It wouldn’t have gone down well, he suspected, and he wasn’t sure how Terra would react to being reminded of home.
No, not home; Earth. He could tell that Earth wasn’t really home for her any more and at that moment, he realised, it didn’t feel THAT much like home to him either. . .
There was a moment’s silence.
- So now what? asked Billy.
- We wait, said Fthfth, staring at her slate.
Another moment’s silence.
And another.
- For how long? pursued Billy. I mean I don’t want to hassle you or anything, but between the mad dictator and the planet of doom up there, we’re kind of against the clock here.
Terra stared daggers at Billy, but Pktk spoke up. - No, he’s right, he said, we can’t just wait for the Extrapolator to respond. We have to try to contact it directly.
- But no one knows how! protested Fthfth.
- Wait a minute, said Billy. You said that this room had some sort of connection with the Extrapowhatsit, didn’t you? That it replied to people who were standing in this room? Wasn’t that why we had to come in here and scare the p’zk out of Terra? Interesting, thought Billy, I’m even swearing in Mlmln.
- Well, yes, but— began Fthfth.
- HELLO? bellowed Billy towards the ceiling. Are you listening? Can you hear us? Only this planet’s in trouble, and if I’ve got it right, if the planet goes, you go with it, so ARE YOU RECEIVING US?
Billy’s voice echoed around the dome for what seemed to Terra like about half an hour. - Brilliant, she snarled at him. Just brilliant. You remember we’re supposed to be sneaking around unnoticed, right? I don’t know if the Extrapolator heard you, but I bet somebody did!
- No . . . wait, said Pktk. Look! He held up his slate.
The symbols meant nothing to Billy, but Terra read them instantly. - ‘Yes, I hear you.’ I don’t believe it!
Billy smiled.
- I think we have the Extrapolator’s attention, explained Fthfth, looking delighted.
Pktk’s fingers hovered over his slate. - What do we say?
- Ask it if it’s seen the Black Planet and if it understands the threat, said Terra. Pktk tapped away on his slate.
- Well? asked Fthfth. Pktk peered at the slate.
- It says ‘I am aware’, he said.
- What can we do? asked Fthfth.
There was a pause. Pktk stared at the slate as if in disbelief. - It says ‘Survive. Consume. Reproduce.’ He stared blankly at his companions.
Billy coughed. - I think, he ventured, that might be a computery way of telling organic life forms to go about their usual business.
Terra was furious. - But we can’t go about our usual business! If the Black
Planet reaches our space, we WON’T survive. Does it know that?
Pktk tapped, then read. - It says ‘I am aware’ again, he said.
Fthfth had another thought. - Ask it if it knows what’s going to happen. Not WHAT’S going to happen – it’ll never tell us – just if it KNOWS what’s going to happen.
Pktk tapped. A longer pause, then, - It says, ‘The outcome has been predicted.’
This seemed to animate Fthfth. - So if it KNOWS what’s going to happen, and it’s not willing to intervene or tell us what to do, that must mean it’s confident that everything will be okay, mustn’t it?
- Maybe not everything, corrected Pktk, it might just mean it thinks IT’s going to be okay. We don’t really know how bothered it is about what happens to US.
Terra decided to cut to the chase. - If the outcome has been predicted, does that mean everything will be okay whatever we do, or do we still have to think of doing whatever it is it thinks we’re going to think of doing?
Everyone stared at Terra blankly. - I don’t know if the Extrapolator would understand that, but I certainly didn’t, said Pktk.
- I did, said Billy. Will everything sort itself out, or is it still up to us to save everyone?
- Thank you, said Terra.
Pktk was about to tap this simpler version of the question into his slate, when he paused. - It’s already answering, he said.
- Told you it could hear us. Billy beamed.
Pktk looked up apologetically. - It just says, ‘All events are proceeding as anticipated.’ I don’t think we’re going to get anything out of it, do you?
Terra thought. - If the Extrapolator’s right, we’ve got nothing to lose by TRYING to figure out how to stop the Black Planet. If it all turns out okay without us, then fair enough, but I don’t think we can ASSUME that’s going to happen.
Fthfth sighed. - So where do we start?
Terra pondered a moment, then spoke, - The Black Planet should be close enough now to get a proper look at it. If we can figure out what it’s made of, or what’s controlling it, we might be able to think of a way to stop it.
- The astroscopy lab, then, said Pktk. Or whatever’s left of it.
They turned to go. At the doorway, Fthfth turned and shouted, - You’re about as much use as the FaZoon, you know that? She left, slamming the door.
If Pktk had been looking at his slate as he hurried towards the astroscopy lab, he would have noticed that it displayed, yet again, ‘I am aware.’
3.10
‘He’s calling it the Lance of the Occluded Ones,’ said Colonel Hardison over the radio. Preceptor Shm gave a groan of distaste that he knew would be clearly audible in T’krr.
- Named for the broken lance of office, of course. Shm’s guts (located, like all Fnrrn’s, in his chest cavity) turned at the memory of the last time he’d seen the actual lance. Protruding from poor Lbbp’s shoulder, his blue blood staining the floor of the council chamber. Shm had seen how that lance had met its end; snapped in half by its last owner, the now-retired Grand Marshal Z’ksht, to enable Lbbp to be carried away for treatment. The old warrior’s destruction of his own sacred emblem had saved young Lbbp’s life. (And where was he now? – Shm didn’t like to contemplate.) That act had sealed the unexpected accord between G’grk and Mlmln, ending the war, but it had caused distress and alarm among the more hardline elements of his own people.
‘I guess Zst’kh just didn’t feel like a real Grand Marshal without one,’ mused Hardison, echoing Shm’s thoughts exactly.
- The real question is, will it work? wondered Shm.
‘Well, it’s certainly big,’ came Hardison’s reply, ‘and if the specifications of the warhead’s yield I’ve read are correct, it might be powerful enough. How accurate it is . . . Well, your guess is as good as mine on that one, Preceptor.’
Shm had fleeting visions of the missile’s engines failing during take-off, the rocket falling back to Fnrr. He pushed the image from his mind, and asked, - Will it be ready in time?
‘Just barely – the explosive elements which make up the warhead are being enriched right now – it’s a chemical process which can’t be sped up. If Steinberg’s right about the planet’s ETA – and he’s usually right about that kind of thing – they’ll be loading the warhead onto the missile with minutes left on the clock.’
After a moment’s delay (the translation cube had a little difficulty with the Rrth acronym ‘ETA’ and the expression ‘on the clock’ but figured them out after a blip or so) Shm responded. - I’m not sure whether I’m more worried about the Black Planet or the G’grk’s solution to it, he grunted.
‘What about the crazy dictator?’ asked Hardison.
Shm blinked and sat down. - To be honest, I’d rather forgotten about him, he said.
3.11
- No, no, that’s not the idea at all, said Lbbp. You’re still thinking in terms of how you can make yourself LOOK mighty and important, when you need to think about how you can actually BECOME mighty and important.
- Oh, said the Gfjk-Hhh, disappointed. He’d rather liked his idea of carving his face into the surface of each of the six moons, so that even after his death (assuming he DID ever die, of course; that was by no means a given) he could gaze down smilingly upon his beloved children. Still, he could always do that as well, he supposed. So what sort of thing do YOU think I should do? he asked.
Behind him, Wffk waited, scroll in hand, ready to take notes. Wffk wasn’t sure what made him more uncomfortable – being in the dank cell, or the dread presence of His Luminescence’s arch-nemesis. Why exactly His Luminescence had come to consult the Deceiver on his course of action, Wffk couldn’t begin to fathom, so he didn’t try.
- Well, think back to the last time, said Lbbp soothingly. What makes you proudest? What do you remember most fondly?
The Gfjk cast his mind back. It was strange, but when he thought about it he COULD remember his previous incarnation. How ridiculous, he thought, that he’d once believed he was faking his identity! Images passed through his mind; throngs of robed Fnrrns crowding into the Forum square to hear him . . . cheering as he passed through the streets in his jewelled chariot . . . he could see it all so clearly now.
His reverie was disturbed by the voice of the Deceiver.
- Okay, here’s a suggestion, said Lbbp. In your previous incarnation, you were famed for your justice and fairness. You were ruthless but also merciful. This time around, if you don’t mind my saying so, Luminescence, you’ve certainly got the ruthlessness together, but the mercifulness . . . not so much.
- I see, said the Gfjk thoughtfully, so I should be showing mercy to who exactly?
- Well, began Lbbp, for a start, how many political prisoners do you currently have detained?
The Gfjk mulled this over. - Not as many as you’d think, actually. I’ve arrested LOADS of them, but I don’t tend to detain them for very long, if you get my meaning. I only hold them until I find space for them in the gshkth pit. There’s a BIT of a waiting list but—
- There you go, said Lbbp. That’s a perfect way to demonstrate your mercy. You could offer amnesty to all your political prisoners. That’s a proper wise and noble leader gesture.
The Gfjk’s face fell. - No more Scary Gshkth? The people will be SO disappointed.
Lbbp gave a shrug-wobble of his head. - We all have to make sacrifices for the good of society, Luminescence, he said solemnly.
The Gfjk sighed. - I suppose you’re right. Wffk, write this down. Scary Gshkth to be suspended indefinitely, amnesty granted for all political prisoners. Yes, both of them, the Gfjk thought to himself. It was a VERY short waiting list. He stood up and stretched. Ah! You know what, I feel nobler and more merciful already! Thank you Deceiver, you’ve been most helpful. I’ll be back in the morning.
The Gfjk got up and turned to leave, Wffk bustling after him. As he appr
oached the cell door, he turned and addressed Lbbp.
- Oh, wait, you didn’t think . . . You weren’t expecting me to release YOU, were you? Oh dear me, no. He went back to the crystal. You’re not a political prisoner, Deceiver, you’re my most trusted adviser. The Gfjk smiled coldly, then tapped the crystal. Well, I SAY trusted . . .
He turned to go. - Don’t worry, Deceiver, he said as he strode to the door, my mission will soon be revealed to me. I feel it in my . . . my . . . that place where you feel things.
The Gfjk-Hhh and his scrivener swept out. As the cell door clanged shut, Lbbp sat down. He hadn’t really thought it would be that easy. Worth a shot, though.
3.12
- Well? said Pktk.
- It’s black, said Fthfth.
- Brilliant, said Pktk, pacing up and down in the astroscopy lab. The lab had been as quiet and deserted as the rest of the Preceptorate, but unlike some of the facilities on the lower floors, it hadn’t been vandalised. Good job the Gfjk’s thugs were as lazy as they were stupid, Terra had thought. It had meant they could remote-activate an orbital astroscope, and Fthfth was now perusing its readings on one of the lab’s visualiser screens, her brow furrowed.
- No, seriously, said Fthfth, it’s BLACK. As black as it’s possible to be. The surface is completely non-reflective, either to visible or invisible light frequencies, or any sort of long-range scan. It’s like a gap in space, a ball of nothing.
- If only it were, said Terra. Keep trying. As it gets closer, you might spot something.
- Yes, and my last words will be ‘Oh look!’ Fthfth smiled anxiously.
Pktk stopped pacing. - I think we may be going about this the wrong way, he mused.
- How do you mean? asked Billy.
- Well, if there’s no information to be had from looking at the planet itself, then maybe there’s information to be found elsewhere.
- Such as? asked Fthfth, looking up from the screen.
