Forbidden World

by Jeremy Michelson

  She shook her head and put an armored hand on my shoulder. Giving it a squeeze. Maybe a little too hard. I winced, but she didn’t let up.

  “You’ve been killed lots of times, dear,” she said, “You always bounce back just fine.”

  “Getting killed hurts,” I said, “Often it really, really hurts. It’s downright unpleasant, to be honest.”

  She squeezed my shoulder a little harder. Bones started to grind together. My eyes watered a bit.

  “I know, sweetie,” she said, “But what we’re trying to do is bigger than just a little pain, isn’t it?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I said, “How about you not rip my arm off, woman? I might need it while I’m fighting off whatever demon spawn is still calling this spooky planet home.”

  “That’s my guy,” she said.

  She pulled me into a near rib-crushing hug. Then let me go with a pat on my butt, and put her hands on her armored hips with a soft clang.

  “I am so ready to beat the crap out of something,” she said, “Where do we start?”

  God, I loved that woman.

  Fortunately, I was ready with an answer.

  “We can track his environmental suit,” I said, “Let’s get back to the ship and bring it up. We can probably find him and be back by lunch.”

  If only things could have been that easy.

  Eighteen

  Titus

  Titus woke with a start.

  And a skull-splitting freaking headache.

  Holy crap. What the fricking hell happened?

  He blinked, breathing in a scent that seemed both earthy and spicy. Like snorting ground up chili peppers off a dirt road.

  Not that he had ever done that. He’d once snorted hyper-meth off a stripper’s ass. But this was nothing like that. What was that stripper’s name again? Brandy? Candy? Sandy? Or…wait…had the stripper been snorting stuff off his ass?

  That had been one helluva night.

  Maybe he was still there. Because all of a sudden he noticed he was naked. Like fresh squeezed out of the fun box naked.

  But…where the hell was he?

  Wherever it was, it was fricking dark. And cold. So cold that T&T junior was a mere nubbin of his usual self.

  He sat up. Regretted the movement immediately. His stomach said, nuh uh, bucko. And promptly pushed all its contents up his throat and out his pie hole.

  Holy fuck his head hurt. Like Wiley-Coyote-anvil-to-the-head hurt.

  Man. That must have been some party.

  “Hey, Brandy? Um, Candy? You still there babe?” He said, “How ‘bout you get me a couple aspirin, babe. And maybe a snort of whatever we were doing last night.”

  He put his vomit-spattered hands to his head. Which did nothing to stop the little bastards in his head from pounding their damned hammers against his skull. The stench of his own puke made his stomach start thinking about sending out round two. He clenched his teeth and willed it back down.

  “Hey, Sandy,” he said, “Bring me some water, too. I’m about as dry as that place….oh….Fuck.”

  Crap, he wasn’t in some stripper’s blacked out bedroom. He wasn’t even on Earth. He wasn’t sure where exactly he was on the dead world of Dendon. But he did know one thing–

  He was (figuratively) bent over, grabbing his ankles, and there wasn’t an ounce of lube anywhere in sight.

  Hopefully it was figurative.

  He scrambled to his feet.

  “Crap, crap, crap…”

  Okay, time for his training to kick in. He was a professional. Covert-ops.

  Medals and commendations and all that shit. Expert marksman. Master of disguise. Deadly at hand to hand combat.

  Those were things that his fellow soldiers in covert-ops had and were good at.

  He might have skipped a class or two.

  Maybe three.

  Possibly almost all of them.

  Mom said it would be okay. At the moment, though, all that training seemed more than just handy. It seemed damned necessary.

  And that was before the two red circles of light sprang to life somewhere in front of him. Before the thing in the room with him scraped across the cold, stone floor. Coming toward him with a rasp of metal against stone.

  T&T junior, snugged tight against his terror shaken body, stopped restraining whatever was in his bladder. Not that T&T senior had time to worry about such minor things.

  Not when the creature scraped up close to him. It opened a long slash of a mouth. Red-orange flames roared inside like a blast furnace. The heat washed over T&T's face, along with an eye-watering chemical stench.

  The thing spoke. A low, raspy word:

  “Babe.”

  Nineteen

  Chris

  “Well. This isn’t helpful,” Liz said.

  I could not disagree with her.

  Lying on the dusty ground in front of us was Titus Tavin’s environmental suit. It appeared to have been ripped off his body. It was, in fact, in tatters.

  The only encouraging thing was the complete absence of blood. Though the way the suit was shredded, there should have been gallons of blood splattered everywhere. Blood should be splashed over the floor, walls, and ceiling of the wide anteroom we were standing in.

  The scent of spicy dust hung in the air, along with a whiff of T&T’s musky cologne.

  Earlier, we had run back to the ship and tracked T&T’s suit to this low, wide building that had a delicately arched roof. The building appeared to be some sort of subway entrance. There were dark screens on the walls that probably once displayed maps or advertisements. Or both.

  Some good old-fashioned paper maps would have been nice. All these technologically advanced civilizations never seemed to think what would happen if the danged electricity went off. All those fancy screens turned into blank slabs of nothing. With the addition of some crayons and some enthusiastic kindergartens, those screens might be useful again.

  We didn’t have any of those.

  And who in their right mind would bring their kids to this creepy dead planet anyway?

  Mostly dead.

  Except for whatever ran off with T&T.

  “Now what?” Liz said.

  We both peered down at the dark tunnel below us. A set of Dendon sized stairs led down into pitch black nothing. The stairs looked remarkably like an Earth-style escalator. Except, they were frozen in place. Of course.

  They were also completely free of the ever-present reddish-gray dust that permeated everything on this haunted planet.

  A gust of wind howled around the arch doorway that stood open behind us. The sound rose and fell like the moan of someone in pain. A shiver ran over me. The three vaguely chocolate and peanut butter tasting nutrient bars I’d shoved down my throat earlier were an acidy lump in my stomach.

  “I’m still in favor of running,” I said, “Screw that guy. He’s an asshole.”

  A King protects his subjects. Even those who do not seem worthy.

  I slapped my head. Hard enough to make spots dance in front of my eyes.

  “Now you speak up?” I said, “There aren’t any kings here. I’m not a king. I don’t want to be a king. Now, are you going to tell me something useful? Like where we might find a working spaceship? Or at least some engines?"

  Silence.

  I stepped over to the nearest stone wall and slammed my head against it.

  So hard that I staggered back, the entire world going white. I stumbled and fell on my butt.

  “Chris!” Liz shouted.

  Then she was kneeling beside me, holding me up. Something warm trickled down my face. I licked coppery blood from my lips. Pain radiated out from my forehead.

  “Come on!” I said, “Give me something, you sanctimonious bastard!”

  “Chris, stop,” Liz said.

  I tried to push her away. But in her shiny gold armor, it was like trying to push a semi-truck.

  “No,” I said, “This damned thing in me keeps playing games with us. It’s su
pposed to know everything about this planet. It has to know what’s out there. It needs to tell me what took T&T.”

  I folded my arms over my chest.

  “I’m going to sit here until it tells me,” I said, “I’m not taking one step further. So, come on, old buddy. What the heck is out there?”

  I sat with my head cocked to one side. Listening for that inner voice.

  “Chris, you’re kinda scaring me, dear,” Liz said.

  She was crouched next to me, a vision in shiny gold. She probably thought she was invincible in that armor. And she might have been anywhere else. But this was Dendon. Home of the inventors of shiny gold super armor.

  And maybe inventors of things that could destroy that armor. Along with the precious life within it.

  “Come, oh oracle of Dendon,” I said, “A king has advisors. You’re my advisor to everything Dendon. So advise me. What took T&T? And where did it take him?”

  You are not yet King.

  “Oh, screw you!” I shouted.

  I tried to slam my fists into my head. But Liz’s hands shot out and caught them.

  “Chris! Stop!” She said, “What’s going on!”

  I struggled to pull free. But it was like struggling with steel girder encased in concrete.

  “That thing in me is playing games,” I said, “It seems to think I should be acting like a king. But it won’t help me.”

  Kings command power through the respect given to their station. And through the power of the respect and compassion they give to their subjects.

  I howled with wordless rage. I fought against Liz’s grip. But she wouldn’t let me go.

  “Damn you!” I shouted, “There isn’t anything to be king of here! Everything is dead. What am I supposed to be king of!”

  The Dendon King is the steward of the galaxy. He serves for the betterment of all races.

  “Really?” I said, “I seem to recall you were perfectly okay with killing all the Dons. How about that?”

  I am not a King. Though the power of death has always been given to Kings.

  I lost the will to fight. I sagged against Liz. Who finally let go of my arms and folded me gently into hers.

  “I’ve got you,” she said, “I’ll keep you safe.”

  But she didn’t need to worry about my safety. The Dendon thing inside me would keep regenerating me for as long as it found me useful. Already the pain from the blow to my forehead was fading. In another minute or two, it would be gone.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I said.

  Follow your heart. Do what you know is right. Every challenge will present a clear choice. If you look for it.

  I groaned. Turned my head toward the dark entrance to the depths of Dendon’s hell.

  No, I wasn’t going to leave T&T behind. No matter how big an asshat turbo douche-nozzle he was. No matter whether he deserved help or not.

  A lesser leader might make the calculation that one life was worth less than the many. Or that his own life was worth more than a common soldier's.

  That was just business, that leader might tell himself.

  But it wasn’t just business.

  It was someone's life. And most likely that soldier wanted to live. Most likely didn't want to sacrifice his life for anything less than protecting his family and country. Certainly not for a general's whim.

  It was always personal. We didn’t sacrifice for a corporate charter or for profits.

  We sacrificed for family.

  And, like him or not, T&T was part our little family here on dusty, dead Dendon.

  “Okay,” I said, patting Liz’s back, “Let’s go find dum-dum. Then maybe we can get out of here.”

  But I knew we wouldn’t be leaving soon.

  I wasn’t anywhere near done facing down challenges.

  If I ever would be.

  Twenty

  Chris

  The Dendon “Subway” was a smooth tube. Liz and I stood at the edge of the platform as she shone her light from one side of the tunnel to the other. Despite the brightness of the beam coming from her hand, the light didn’t penetrate far into the darkness.

  The section of tunnel right in front of us was perfectly round and smooth. There weren’t any visible tracks or rails. Whatever vehicle used this tunnel didn’t seem to need wheels.

  We had walked down the long flight of stairs–wishing they still moved–and found what had to have been a station where busy Dendons must have crowded to go to destinations unknown.

  Well, unknown to us. Surely they knew where they were going.

  I wished we knew where we were going.

  The spicy dustiness of the surface was gone. In its place was a more subtle scent. There was still a hint of chili pepper like spice. But now there was a cool earthiness along with a tang of metal.

  And there was a feeling in the air. A certain buzz, like the hour before a thunderstorm hit. It made the skin on the back of my neck twitch.

  The station itself had curving walls and ceiling that echoed the tunnel itself. Walls and ceiling were perfectly smooth and done in a creamy grayish white that would have been soothing if not for that pre-storm feeling in the air.

  Spaced evenly along the wall were more blank screens, embedded into the wall themselves. Grayish black empty spaces that probably told the Dendon people where the next train was coming from and going to and when.

  Or maybe the screens were just trying to sell them shaving cream and space condoms. Who knew?

  I asked the unhelpful Dendon device inside me. But, as usual, he declined to comment.

  Thanks, buddy.

  “How do we even know the thing brought him down here?” Liz asked.

  I shrugged. “We don’t. But he wouldn’t have survived long without his suit. This is the only place that might have some area that’s pressurized.”

  “What if it didn’t care that if he lived?”

  “Then, he could be anywhere,” I said, “And there wouldn’t be much point in searching for him. I think corpse recovery should be pretty far down on our list of important tasks.”

  She turned her shiny self toward me. The beam of light from her hand threw shadows over the curving walls.

  “Do you think he’s dead?”

  I shook my head. “No. I think whatever took him is keeping him alive. For now.”

  “Why?”

  “I can think of two reasons,” I said.

  “Information.”

  “Yup. Gather intelligence about the enemy. Potential enemy,” I said, “Though this thing may consider anyone who lands on the planet an enemy.”

  Liz tapped her armored chest with one finger. "But we've got Dendon hardware. Does that give us a pass?"

  “Maybe. But we don’t look like Dendons. They were over seven feet tall and were rail thin, with skin as black as these tunnels. I don’t think we’d pass in a crowd here.”

  “Great,” Liz said, “What’s the other reason the idiot might still be alive?”

  I blew out a long sigh and ran my fingers through my hair. The spot on my forehead where I’d slammed my head against the wall was completely healed. The split skin and the blood were all taken care of by my Dendon buddy. He was keeping me going. For whatever reason suited him.

  Which increasingly seemed like the whole point of us being on this planet.

  I thought we were coming here to stop the Earth military from getting hold of toys they couldn’t handle. Or to find the secrets of how Dendon built and maintained a peaceful society.

  Except, like many a happy looking household, there were dark secrets lurking behind those closed doors. Like the alcoholic father who beat his kids, but took his family to church every Sunday.

  “Apparently, the thing inside me thinks this dead planet needs a king,” I said.

  Which wasn’t quite what I thought it wanted. It seemed to think the entire galaxy needed a king.

  Which seemed like a ridiculous amount of responsibility for one person. Even with help.

 
“So?” Liz said, “What good is a king when everything is dead?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, “But it seems to think I’m auditioning for the job. It talked about challenges to be taken.”

  Liz shook her shiny, gold covered head. “You mean like some kind of seven labors of Hercules thing? That’s stupid.”

  “Yeah, well, you tell it then.”

  She bent down and spoke to my chest. “That’s stupid. Just tell us where we can find T&T.”

  She straightens back up. Cocked her head to one side.

  “Well?”

  I listened for an inward voice.

  Was rewarded with the usual silence.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  She put one hand on her hip. The other hand–the one with the built-in flashlight–she closed into a fist. Light spilled from between her fingers. Which only threw more spooky shadows onto the suddenly darker walls.

  “How about if I hold you upside down and shake you?” She said.

  “How is that supposed to help?”

  “I don’t know. Just a suggestion.”

  “Well, let’s keep that on on the back burner for now,” I said, “I think we just have to keep playing along for now.”

  She unclenched her fist. Thankfully letting more light out to chase the darkness back a little further. A shudder ran over me. It had been getting a little too creepy there. It felt like the darkness was a physical thing. Reaching for us…

  “So which way then, dear?” Liz said.

  An excellent question. Was there an equally excellent answer? Or would I have to flip a coin and guess with direction to take?

  How about a little hint there, o’ wise Dendon buddy?

  Silence.

  Crap.

  Sure. Kings were just supposed to know, right?

  A King trusts his instincts.

  The words startled me. Made me jump.

  “What?” Liz said.

  “My buddy chipped in his two cents worth,” I said.

  “What it’d say?”

  “It said, and I quote: A King trusts his instincts.”