Terra's World

by Mitch Benn

  So, he summarised to himself, basically, our only hope for survival is an enormous missile, built by resentful slave labour, which is about to be fired by technophobic tribal warriors in the vague direction of the ghost planet which, should the rocket miss, fail to detonate, or just turn out not to be powerful enough, will kill us all before the morning.

  An even more sobering thought was, it now occurred to him, that this still wasn’t the craziest strategy he’d ever been a party to. He’d got mixed up in much dumber situations back on Earth. He shuddered at the memory.

  Somewhere behind him, back in the command centre, the warhead was ‘brewing’. Hardison squinted as he looked up at the black disc in the sky.

  What ARE you? he wondered.

  3.21

  The people of Mlml, it seemed, had missed the Source almost as much as Pktk had. Ever since it had come back online, it had been ablaze with activity.

  Debate was raging on every discussion site or conversation page over whether the Gfjk was truly the reborn saviour of Mlml or a demented fraud. Reading her slate, Terra was encouraged to note that a slight majority seemed to be coming down on the ‘demented fraud’ side.

  She and her friends were in Pktk’s family apartment. The Gfjk had, as yet, no reason to suspect Pktk’s or Fthfth’s involvement in Terra’s little insurrection; as such, Terra had reasoned, his custodians wouldn’t think to watch Pktk’s old residence. They’d opened the door with Pktk’s key tube and made themselves at home.

  The place was comfortable at least, and extensively decorated; Fthfth had been giggling almost non-stop at the sheer quantity of holographic portraits of Pktk dotted about the rooms and corridors: baby Pktk; Pktk’s first steps; Pktk’s first day at the PreAc; Pktk’s first go with a gravity pod . . . Pktk registered Fthfth’s mirth but did not respond; he just shuffled past her, his head lowered, muttering crossly, - Not my fault, I didn’t put them up.

  Terra, catching Pktk’s eye, said, - So tell us again about this thing the G’grk have built.

  Pktk’s tense comm conversation with his mother had not consisted entirely of frantic admonishments, fretful pleas to come back to Lsh-Lff and mumbled apologies. Almost entirely, but not entirely entirely. There had also been time for Pktk and his mother to bring each other up to date on what was being done about the ongoing Black Planet situation.

  - Well, began Pktk, they’ve constructed a massive rocket called the Lance of the Occluded Ones.

  Terra flinched at a sudden flash of memory – the ugly steel shaft protruding from Lbbp’s shoulder, dark blue blood, so much blue blood . . .

  Terra contained her distress; Pktk didn’t notice it and carried on. - They say it’ll be ready to fire at the Black Planet just before it arrives.

  Fthfth snorted. - How do they know? There are no detailed scientific records of what actually happens when the Black Planet does whatever it does. We don’t know how close it has to get! We don’t know whether it smashes right into you, grazes the atmospheric lid or whether it can wipe everything out from half an optical away!

  Billy shrugged, - Well, it’s a start, isn’t it? And even if it doesn’t blow the Black Planet up, it might slow it down, or blow it off course, or . . . something. And it’s more than anyone else has come up with.

  - Give it time, said Terra. We’ve got the whole scientific community of Fnrr on our side now. Someone will think of something. Someone HAS to think of something.

  - Somebody DID think of something, said Billy. The G’grk thought of blowing the thing to bits. Not exactly Nobel Prize-winning stuff, I’ll grant you, but if it does the trick I bet you won’t be complaining this time tomorrow.

  Pktk looked up from his slate. - It’ll never work, he muttered. The G’grk won’t have built it themselves, they wouldn’t know where to start. They’ll have stolen it from somewhere. They probably don’t even know how it works. They’re more likely to blow themselves up with it than—

  - You know what I think? said Billy, his temper starting to fray a little, I think you and all your clever mates just can’t stand the idea of the stupid, primitive G’grk being the ones who actually get their act together and save everyone, that’s what I think.

  Terra, Fthfth and Pktk exchanged embarrassed glances. They weren’t going to admit it out loud, but Billy had a point.

  No one was sure what to say next, so it came as a great relief to everyone when both Pktk’s and Fthfth’s slates started making high-pitched pinging sounds, one after the other. They both checked their devices excitedly.

  - The database search is complete! announced Pktk.

  - I’ve got a message! From the Ff-Shkrr observatory! said Fthfth delightedly.

  - The what? asked Billy.

  - It’s another Preceptorate – university, sort of thing – on the other side of Fnrr. They were the first ones to notice the existence of the Ymn race, for what it’s worth. Terra smiled. Perhaps they’ve figured something out about the Black Planet.

  Terra went to read over Fthfth’s shoulder. This normally annoyed Fthfth intensely, but on this occasion she was too excited to notice.

  - It’s from Senior Postulator V-Kst V-Shft, head of the Ff-Shkrr Astroscopy Hub! Wow! She’s amazing! I read this fantastic article she wrote about the atomic decay of—

  - What does it SAY? Interrupting Fthfth in full academic enthusiasm flow was always a bit of a risk, but Terra felt it necessary, what with the impending end of the world and everything.

  - Oh, yes . . . Hmm. She’s sent me a recording. They were scanning the Black Planet for any signals it might be giving off—

  - There aren’t any, grumbled Pktk. We checked.

  - —and SHE SAYS, continued Fthfth, ignoring him, that they picked something up. Here you go, listen to this. She tapped her slate to activate the sound file.

  A faint hiss was heard. Pktk was unimpressed.

  - That’s nothing, he said. Background static. Stellar radiation, reflected from the sun.

  - I thought you said it didn’t reflect the sun? said Terra thoughtfully. Pktk fell silent. Fthfth went on:

  - This is it, slowed down sixty-four times.

  A lower-pitched hiss, sounding oddly like breath.

  - Still nothing, said Pktk. What are we listening for?

  Fthfth held up a not-now hand and said, - And this is that sound slowed down ANOTHER sixty-four times.

  The sound was no longer a hiss. It now resembled a heartbeat. Pktk’s eyes widened.

  - That’s not stellar radiation. It’s too uniform.

  - Sounds like a pulse, said Billy quietly.

  - It’s a signal, conceded Pktk. That’s a signal. Something is communicating with something else.

  Terra turned to face him. - Communicating? Communicating how? she asked eagerly.

  Pktk’s interest had clearly been piqued but his enthusiasm did not yet match Terra’s own. - No way to tell, really. Could be some sort of automated system; a relay between. . .

  - But something could be ALIVE up there? Terra interrupted. Something intelligent? Even if it’s just artificial intelligence?

  Pktk was still cagey in his response. - Terra, just because the signal seems to have some sort of pattern, it doesn’t. . .

  Terra was unfazed. - But communication implies intelligence, doesn’t it? Who could they be trying to communicate with? Us? She had hopeful visions of messages being exchanged, language barriers being broken, accords being reached . . .

  But Fthfth shook her head. - The signal’s far too weak. Postulator V-Kst said their scanners only just picked it up at their maximum sensitivity.

  Terra paced the room, her mind racing. - So they’re not trying to talk to us, but they are talking to each other . . . she said. There are things on that planet that are talking to each other.

  She wheeled round to talk to the others. - If they’re talking to each
other, then we can talk to them. We can communicate with the planet.

  - What’s that going to achieve? queried Pktk.

  - I don’t know! shouted Terra. But it’s got to be worth a try! We could warn them about the G’grk rocket, persuade them to turn the planet round . . .

  - What makes you think they’re controlling the planet, anyway? asked Pktk crossly. And who ARE they? We have no idea what we’re dealing with.

  - Woah, woah, calm down, said Billy, sensing the mounting tension. There’s something we’re forgetting about here. Pktk, you said that database search-thing you had on the go had come up with something. Have you even bothered to check what?

  Pktk’s irritation abated. He lowered his eyes. - Not yet, he mumbled.

  - Well, then, said Billy, off you go and sort that out. Fthfth, he turned to her, if that IS some sort of communication network up there on that planet, can we hack into it? Listen in, maybe even get a word in ourselves?

  - I . . . might be able to work out what frequency they’re using, said Fthfth.

  - Sounds like a plan, Billy said encouragingly. Get cracking.

  Billy exhaled and turned to Terra. She was smiling. ‘What?’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here, Billy Dolphin,’ she said.

  So am I, thought Billy. He went to the window. The Black Planet dominated the darkening sky. Unbelievable as it may seem, thought Billy, so am I.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Pktk’s voice. - Hm. Perfection.

  - What is? asked Terra. There were many words she could think of with reference to their current situation and ‘perfection’ wasn’t one of them.

  - The planet. Or it might be, anyway, said Pktk, reading from his slate. Its mass and diameter are an exact match for the planet Perfection, which disappeared eras ago.

  - Perfection? chuckled Billy. Bit pleased with themselves, weren’t they?

  3.22

  ‘How long?’

  Colonel Hardison and Professor Steinberg were standing in the centrifuge lab at the G’grk command centre. The vast, vibrating metal drum in front of them contained the combination of volatile elements which would, once ‘brewed’, become the explosive core of the warhead which the Lance of the Occluded Ones would deliver – hopefully – straight through the crust and into the very heart of the Black Planet.

  Professor Steinberg checked the time on his slate. It showed local Central Plains time, but he thought it would be easier to answer Hardison using comforting old Earth units.

  ‘Couple of hours.’ He shrugged.

  Hardison shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. ‘Do we even HAVE a couple of hours?’

  Steinberg consulted his slate. He still got a bit of a kick from using Fnrrn gadgets. And to think how impressed he’d been by some of the stuff they had back home.

  ‘Just barely, I think. Nobody knows what the planet’s destructive range is. Nobody even knows exactly what it does – just what’s left after it’s done it.’

  Hardison stared uneasily at the centrifuge. ‘Where did they even get this thing? Do they know how to use it?’

  ‘It was built at the same time as the rocket,’ said Steinberg matter-of-factly.

  ‘In Dskt?’ asked Hardison. ‘How do you think they got it all the way back here?’

  Steinberg shrugged. ‘It’s amazing what you can achieve when you have a rigid caste system and a completely servile underclass of a hundred million or so.’

  Hardison nodded grimly. He shifted his weight again and checked his watch. It hadn’t worked for weeks and had no way of showing local time, but he checked it, anyway.

  3.23

  Lbbp, flanked by his usual armed escorts, stood on the upper balcony of the Forum and watched the ship’s progress with a mixture of unease and admiration. It’s amazing what you can achieve with half a country’s worth of fawning acolytes, he thought glumly.

  They’d found his trusty old lemon-shaped spaceship where he’d said it would be – in a little hangar just behind the Life Science Hub – and loaded it onto a low-energy grav-platform. Now they were towing it along through the streets, dozens of them in their ridiculous white robes, while hundreds more stood by and gave out hissing cheers.

  It would have been far easier, of course, for him to pilot it back to the Forum, but in spite of his new-found status as the Gfjk-Hhh’s ‘most trusted adviser’, the Gfjk seemed reluctant to let Lbbp out of his sight. Obviously not that ‘most trusted’ yet, thought Lbbp. We’ll have to work on that, in however long we’ve got left, he concluded, casting an anxious glance skywards. The Black Planet hung over the city, a larger disc than any of the six moons, larger even than the sun appeared at the end of the day.

  So the plan now was for the ship to be towed back to the Forum, where Lbbp would override the biometric security measures before handing it over to the Gfjk, so he could set out on his quest for glory. That way, Lbbp would never be left in sole charge of the ship. That way, he couldn’t just blast off to freedom on his own.

  Odd, thought Lbbp, that they should take such precautions to prevent me from escaping NOW, when escape is the last thing on my mind. The absolute last thing.

  He became aware of the Gfjk’s presence at his side.

  - Is that it? the Gfjk said sourly.

  - I did say it wasn’t very big, said Lbbp, but so much the better for your purposes, Luminescence.

  The Gfjk turned to Lbbp, a quizzical expression on his face. - Explain?

  - Well, Luminescence, began Lbbp, ANYONE can set off for battle in some hulking great warship, heavy with armour and bristling with weapons. Any fool, any MORTAL can defeat an enemy by outgunning it. But to set out unarmed . . . to face such a terrifying threat as this – he indicated the Black Planet hanging above them – and thwart it JUST BY THE POWER OF HIS WORD, why those are the actions of . . . of a . . .

  - A God, said the Gfjk quietly.

  - Indeed, Luminescence, said Lbbp reverentially. A blip passed, then another. That’s right, thought Lbbp. Believe it. Believe it, and doom yourself.

  There was a weighty pause. Eventually the Gfjk spoke, but the words he uttered were NOT anything Lbbp was expecting, or hoping for.

  - Is there actually going to be room in there for both of us?

  3.24

  - So let me see if I have this right, said Billy. Once upon a time, there was a planet where life was so blissful it was actually called Perfection, and then one day it just disappeared? And now we think – or at least HE thinks – he pointed to Pktk – that it didn’t just vanish into space but somehow turned into the wandering Death Planet up there?

  - Erm, yes, said Pktk.

  - Fair enough, said Billy. Just wanted to get it sorted out in my head.

  - Is there NO explanation as to what happened to Perfection? asked Terra. Not even a clue?

  Pktk fiddled with his slate. Fthfth cast an anxious glance out of the window. Was that really Perfection? The long-lost planet of peace and beauty? What had happened? And how long did they have to work it out?

  - There’s one version of the legend here, it’s in a particularly obscure old dialect. The slate’s taking its time translating it . . . Come on, come on, said Pktk impatiently, bashing the slate with his free hand.

  Hey, look at that, thought Billy, people do that here too.

  - Right, here we go, said Pktk, and he read:

  - ‘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 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.’


  Pktk looked up from his slate. - What’s a Deliverer? he asked.

  The only thing which came to Billy’s mind was the image of a bloke on a moped bringing him pizza. He didn’t really think it was worth mentioning this.

  - Nanites . . . said Fthfth quietly.

  - Nanites? asked Terra.

  - Teeny tiny sub-microscopic intelligent machines, smaller than cells. My mother uses them at the nosocomium.

  Terra experienced a flashback to her first day at the Lyceum. There was little Fthfth, proudly describing her parents’ occupations. ‘- My father’s name is Knkt-sh-Dstnk-sh-Hbf and he is EXTREMELY clever. He is Director of Applied Science at the Hrrng GravTech Research Hub. My mother is called Hskth-sh-Fnl-sh-Gskt and she is EVEN CLEVERER. She is Chief of Cellular Surgery at Hrrng Nosocomium.’

  - Cellular surgery, said Terra. Registering Billy’s bewildered expression, she went on. – Nanites are like incredibly small robots. They can be injected into diseased or infected cells and they can actually repair the cells individually.

  - That signal! said Fthfth. That signal YOU thought – she shot a look at Pktk – was just background radiation – it must be the nanites communicating with each other. The nanites my mother programmes at the nosocomium use just the same kind of incredibly high frequency . . .

  - So what if you made – nanites, was it? Billy asked. Terra nodded. Billy went on. What if you made nanites, and programmed them to destroy rather than repair?

  - They would dismantle living tissue, said Pktk. They’d turn it to dust.

  - How could one urnful destroy the whole planet, though? Billy frowned.

  - If they were self-replicating nanites, they’d recycle the consumed matter and make copies of themselves, said Pktk. There’d be enough to destroy everything in about a spectrum.