Terra's World

by Mitch Benn

  Fthfth put her arms round her. - If they were a species, then they were one that was moments away from destroying every species on this planet and which had already wiped out every species on countless other planets. They certainly didn’t have the right to do that.

  - But nobody has, sobbed Terra. There should have been another way . . .

  - Well, spider-friends, said Billy, that’s been the recurring motif of the day, hasn’t it? Nobody’s perfect. Nobody’s ever perfect. And whenever anyone forgets that, whether it’s the population of the Lost Planet Smug, or some bloke who decides he’s a god, things go wrong. Really wrong.

  They heard the door open and close again.

  - Oh no, has he come back? groaned Pktk.

  - Probably forgot his thumbscrews, Billy grinned.

  The sound of footsteps in the corridor. Terra turned her face away. The last thing she wanted was to have to face Yshn again. She couldn’t face the effort of forgiving him. She needed all her energy to forgive herself.

  A curiously excited hush had descended upon the room. Terra looked at her friends. Fthfth and Pktk’s faces had lit up with smiles; Billy just looked confused, as he often did.

  A voice from behind her.

  - Terra?

  Terra almost didn’t dare turn around, just in case it wasn’t who she thought it was.

  Terra turned round.

  There, in the doorway, looking pale, drawn and even thinner than usual, was Lbbp.

  Terra leapt to her feet and flew into his arms.

  Lbbp clung to her like he’d never ever let her go.

  They didn’t say a word to each other. They didn’t have to.

  PART FOUR

  Pick Up the Pieces

  4.1

  - Ican’t BELIEVE they’re taking credit for it, huffed Fthfth.

  She was peering crossly at her slate, reading the news. For the first time in a couple of orbits, the ACTUAL news.

  - It doesn’t matter, said Pktk, if it makes them happy, let them.

  - But everybody SAW it! she said, getting up and stomping across the room to the window. The planet IMPLODED before the Lance even got there! They blew up the rocket in empty space! How can the G’grk be claiming they saved Fnrr? And why is ANYONE believing them?

  - If we’ve learned anything, it’s that there’s no telling what people will believe, mused Pktk through a mouthful of configuration 5.

  They were in the servery of Pktk’s apartment, to which his parents would soon be returning. All the exiled academics who had been hiding out in Lsh-Lff were on their way home. The Chancellor, who had been lying low in a remote village in the hills above Jfd-Jfd, was returning to resume her duties, and those delegates who had been tracked down – and who WANTED to return – were also on their way back.

  Pktk and Fthfth were supposed to be cleaning and tidying up the apartment in advance of his parents’ arrival, but so far all they’d done was eat breakfast and argue about the news.

  - People remember things wrong, anyway, reflected Pktk. People remember what makes sense to them, even if it’s not what actually happens. Seeing Fthfth’s confusion, he went on:

  - Look, here’s the actual sequence of events: the planet’s there, the planet’s gone, then big explosion. That makes no sense, unless you know what we were doing, which nobody except us does. So what everyone remembers is: the planet’s there, big explosion, the planet’s gone. Now that makes sense. It’s not what happened, but it makes sense, so that’s how people are remembering it. Understand?

  Fthfth glowered. - Doesn’t make it right, though. Terra was the one who saved everyone! People should be thanking her!

  - Have you asked Terra how she feels about that? asked Pktk. The last time she saved everyone it turned her life upside down. Maybe she’s happy to let the G’grk take the credit for it.

  Pktk took another bite of configuration 5, then said thoughtfully, - Where is Terra, anyway?

  4.2

  Preceptor Shm looked around his reading room. It was all still here.

  He’d had horrid visions of his scrolls lying torn and scattered around the room, his historic artefacts smashed, rude slogans daubed on the walls. But the place was exactly as he’d left it all those cycles ago.

  Apparently the Gfjk-Hhh and his followers had had no interest in academia. But then, considered Shm, they didn’t seem to have been interested in learning things at all.

  The Preceptor sat in his old chair. It felt as if he’d never been away.

  The aftermath of the fall of the Gfjk-Hhh – or whatever his name had been – would be long and messy. No doubt some sort of commission would have to be set up. Tasked with deciding what punishment, if any, should be meted out to the Gfjk’s surviving followers. How responsible should they be deemed, legally, to have been for their actions? It would be a thorny question. Are you doing wrong if you sincerely believe you’re doing right?

  Shm rubbed his temples and grunted.

  A lot of them HAD believed they were doing the right thing. But that, he reflected, was because they hadn’t thought about what ‘the right thing’ was. They hadn’t exercised any personal judgement. Working out what was right, Shm decided, would ALWAYS be an individual’s responsibility. Whatever leader they were following, and whatever authority that leader claimed.

  There would be difficult times ahead.

  With regards to the Black Planet, young Fthfth had told him the truth: how the Rrth child had contacted the nanites and persuaded them to self-destruct. Shm had managed to convince Fthfth, who was still angry, that it would be far the wisest course of action to let the official story – that Fnrr had been saved by the G’grk and their rocket – go unchallenged. For all sorts of reasons – practical, political, but principally because that’s how Terra wanted it.

  Preceptor Shm got up, walked to his window and looked out across the city.

  Where was Terra, anyway?

  4.3

  ‘You were right, you know, James. About the Black Planet.’

  Professor Steinberg and Colonel Hardison looked out across the vast, purplish expanse of the Central Plain. Upon being released from confinement after the destruction of the Black Planet, Hardison had decided he needed some air. He’d set out for a hike across the plain, and invited Steinberg to accompany him. Steinberg had struggled to match Hardison’s determined pace, and was taking advantage of a brief sit-down to have a private talk with his human colleague. This, he felt, was probably why Hardison had wanted to come out here.

  ‘I know,’ said Hardison. ‘Terra told me.’

  Hardison had received Terra’s message upon his release. It had read, in English:

  ‘Thanks for trying. We sorted it out. Let them take credit – it’s easier that way. Thanks T x’

  ‘So what do we do?’ Steinberg continued.

  ‘Do?’ replied Hardison, his eyes scanning the horizon. ‘We do nothing. The peace process between the G’grk and their neighbours isn’t a done deal, Dave. It could collapse, and that crazy fool being in power in Mlml all that time didn’t help. Part of the accord was that the G’grk were put in charge of protecting the planet against any threats from space. If the rest of Fnrr thinks that the G’grk have succeeded in doing this, it’ll smooth things over.’

  Steinberg was briefly taken aback by hearing Hardison call him ‘Dave’ rather than ‘Prof ’. He was not quite convinced by Hardison’s position. ‘Doesn’t seem fair, though.’

  Hardison sighed. ‘First rule of politics, Dave . . . Fair’s got nothing to do with it.’ He stood up and stretched. ‘Where is Terra, anyway?’ he asked.

  4.4

  - There. Send that. And Drone Major . . . ?

  - Yes, Grand Marshal?

  - No one else is to see that message. Understood?

  - Of course, Grand Marshal.

  The Dro
ne Major turned and strode away towards the communications room.

  Zst’kh sat back in his seat. Apart from the cold metal bed, it was the only furniture in his quarters.

  Zst’kh had composed the message extremely carefully.

  He had thanked the Ymn child for her help in the matter of the Black Planet, while never exactly specifying what that help had been. He added that he was aware of her difficulties with certain rogue dissident elements from within his own nation and promised to devote his time and energy towards tracking these malcontents down and ensuring that she was no longer inconvenienced in this way.

  Zst’kh had been quite sincere in this; he’d sacrificed much to cement the peace process and secure his own position. He wasn’t about to let all his good work be undone by a rabble of discontented exiles. The Walkers of the True Path would not find Terra. He would make sure of that.

  Come to think of it, thought Zst’kh, where was Terra, anyway?

  4.5

  In its bunker below the Preceptorate, the Extrapolator followed the events unfolding up on the ground, and beyond.

  The false emperor’s rule had ended, just as the Extrapolator had known it would. The arrival of the Black Planet had been unexpected, but once its presence was factored into the Extrapolator’s calculations, its place in the course of events had become clear.

  The Extrapolator was aware that an inaccurate version of events was being circulated. It would not seek to correct this. It knew that the Ymn child had been responsible for preserving Fnrr. She had almost fulfilled her role in the planet’s destiny. Almost.

  The Extrapolator continued to monitor communications on the surface. It appeared that no one knew where Terra was.

  The Extrapolator knew.

  4.6

  - Ididn’t think I’d ever see this again.

  Lbbp gazed out across the rainbow sand to the pink sea. The waves lapped gently, soothingly.

  - I didn’t think I’d ever see YOU again, said Terra.

  Silence that might have lasted three blips or half a day.

  - I . . . did things I’m not proud of, said Terra quietly.

  - So did I, said Lbbp. I took a fragile, vulnerable individual and exploited his weaknesses until he destroyed himself.

  - I found a unique, distinctive species and talked them into exterminating each other, said Terra.

  Another silence.

  - That’s something you learn as you grow up, though, said Lbbp. Doing the right thing isn’t always nice.

  - Growing up, muttered Terra. It’s overrated. Think I want to stop here, if it’s okay.

  Lbbp smiled. - I think you’re doing a fine job growing up so far. Why stop now?

  A short distance away, further up the beach, Billy looked back towards his friend and her stepfather. He’d give it another minute, he thought. Give them a bit more privacy. He could tell they had a lot to talk about, and he knew they’d talk about it a lot more easily if he wasn’t listening.

  Rfk was certainly living up to Terra’s description of it, Billy thought. He could see why it had been her favourite place on Mlml when she was growing up here, and he understood entirely why she’d insisted on coming here now.

  The journey had been fun, certainly. Billy wasn’t sure he had the ‘knack’ of using a gravity bubble yet, but he’d made it here in one piece without being towed, so that was progress, he supposed.

  He looked at Terra’s comm, blinking away quietly in the palm of his hand. He’d asked to borrow it soon after they’d arrived at the beach. Now the extra-planetary communications array was functioning again, he’d wondered if he might be able to use it to phone home.

  He checked his chunky digital watch. Absurdly, it still showed Earth time and the date back home. He’d been gone less than a week. It wouldn’t be hard to get a lift back from somebody; he was owed that, he was sure . . . He could be back there in a couple of days, could just pick up where he’d left off. Even his absence from school could be explained away.

  He looked at the comm. It had configured its screen into a phone keypad again.

  Billy dialled his home number, remembering to include the international prefix.

  After a moment, Billy spoke.

  ‘Dad? It’s me . . . Yes, I’m all right. I’m fine. I’m—’

  A pause.

  ‘Listen, Dad, tell Mum: I’m NOT in any trouble, I HAVEN’T run off and joined a cult . . . or a band (which would probably alarm her more, thought Billy), and I’m perfectly okay, but . . . I won’t be home for a little while longer. No, Dad, I’m not sure how long. I’m gonna say don’t worry, and you shouldn’t. I know you will, but . . . you really shouldn’t.’

  Another pause.

  ‘Yes, Dad, I promise I’ll call. I’ll call whenever I can. I love you. Tell Mum that as well.’

  He switched the comm off. He stared at it for a moment, then walked back along the beach to where Terra and Lbbp were sitting.

  Billy tapped the translation cube in his pocket, and smiled at Lbbp. - How you feeling?

  Lbbp smiled back. - Better. Much better.

  Billy handed Terra’s comm back to her. ‘You want to use it?’ he asked.

  ‘What for?’ asked Terra.

  Billy shrugged. ‘To call your parents? Your human parents, I mean.’

  Terra stared out to sea for a moment, then put her comm back in her bag. ‘Not yet,’ she said, ‘I’ll wait.’

  ‘Wait until what?’

  ‘Until I know what I want to say to them.’

  Billy sat down on the sand. The orange sun was setting at the horizon, half visible above the line of the pink sea. And in the morning, it would rise again over the purple hills behind them.

  ‘What happens now?’ asked Billy.

  EPILOGUE

  Nowhere Man

  The asteroid had no name. It was not marked on any star-charts.

  It drifted among its fellows in the belt of rocks and ice which circled the star 62-13-440-09. Had anyone ever thought to take any energy readings of the asteroid belt, they might have noticed that one of the larger bodies was giving off a signal indicating some sort of fusion reactor buried deep below its surface. But no one had ever taken any such readings – there was no conceivable reason why anyone would.

  The fusion reactor in question had been installed many eras previously by the victors of the war on the nearby planet of Quexis between the Tranta people and their rival nation, the Hifficks.

  The plucky Hifficks had triumphed over the Tranta aggressors (that was how the history of Quexis recorded it, anyway; it is curious how often, when the history of a war is written, it’s the vile aggressors who lost, and the plucky defenders who prevailed). The defeated Tranta leader, Yakus Yakus the Undefeatable, had been sentenced to life imprisonment in an asteroid gaol where the automated life support mechanisms (powered by the aforementioned fusion reactor) were designed to keep him alive, in total isolation, for as long as possible. When Yakus Yakus eventually died, many MANY years later, the asteroid prison had been abandoned.

  Few nowadays knew it had ever existed.

  Fewer still knew its location.

  And no more than a handful knew that it had recently been reactivated, and was occupied once more.

  The asteroid’s current inhabitant had been there for just over two years, or nearly two orbits, as he would measure it.

  The robot guards who brought his food, cleaned his cell and monitored his health did not speak to him. They had no speech circuits and, in any case, there was nothing to say.

  The only voice to be heard in that place was the voice of the prisoner.

  It resounded through the stone corridors, night and day – in as much as night or day can be said to exist in such a place.

  The robot guards would come and go; they could hear the prisoner’s words, but they did no
t react or respond in any way.

  Still the voice went on. Quiet only when the prisoner fell into fitful, restless sleep. As soon as he awoke, the words would begin again:

  - Occluded Ones hear me; Occluded Ones guide me; Occluded Ones deliver me. Occluded Ones hear me; Occluded Ones guide me; Occluded Ones deliver me. Occluded Ones hear me; Occluded Ones guide me; Occluded Ones deliver me . . .

  Nothing ever interrupted the prisoner’s prayer. Until that night, if such a thing as night can be said to exist in such a place.

  The prisoner had heard no voice but his own for nearly two orbits. But now he heard a voice, as clear as any he had ever heard.

  - WE HEAR YOU, SK’SHK, said the voice. NOW LISTEN TO US.

  Sk’shk clasped his hands together in gratitude and humility. He bowed his head, and closed his eyes.

  And listened.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Simon, Charlie, Genn, Sophie and the rest of the Gollancz massive; thanks as always to Fthf— er, I mean Greta, and Astrid (pickle). Many thanks to Ken & Liz Bartlett for continued use of the increasingly legendary Barn, and to Hilary Bartlett for so many things. Thanks to Budgie for editorial input and output; thanks to Mum & Dad and Our Rachel. Thanks to Ian Wilson, the galaxy’s most patient manager. Thanks again to Neil Himself Gaiman, from whom all blessings flow, and most of all thanks to Clara Benn, without whom . . . doesn’t bear contemplation.

  And, of course, huge thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed the first book, and ESPECIALLY those of you who then persuaded a friend to do likewise. You’re my favourites.