Forbidden World

by Jeremy Michelson

  For a dead world, Dendon was getting a lot of traffic lately.

  The wind howled around the edges of the Dendon Ministry of Records building. Driving spicy scented dust at me. Gritty sand tore at my clothes and tried to fill my mouth. I huddled at the large, arching doors at the top of the long flight of Dendon people sized stone stairs.

  Out in the huge, circular plaza, a small ship was coming to a landing. Fire spouted from rockets underneath it. Spotlights at the front of it slowly panned back and forth, casting reddish beams through the dust and sand in the air.

  The ship settled down a couple hundred feet from the scorched wreckage of my ship. In my enhanced night vision, I could only catch shimmering and grainy outlines of this new ship’s shape. But I caught enough of a hint of its sloping lines to guess it was a Don ship.

  Probably an excursion craft from Captain Kawl Tejoh’s battle cruiser up in orbit. Down here to retrieve their captain.

  I hadn’t gotten out of Kawl just exactly how and why he came to be down on the planet in an escape pod.

  What I had gotten was an impression of a Don who wasn’t quite right in the head. For a Don.

  Though he managed that stabbing in the back thing pretty well. That was totally like a Don.

  I realized I was exposed in more than one way out on the front steps of the Ministry of Records. The little excursion craft probably had enough sensors to detect heat and motion. I concentrated on my shielding for a moment, thinking about what I wanted from it. I wasn’t sure what I wanted was even possible.

  Since my Dendon buddy wasn’t being helpful anymore–not that he had ever been all that communicative–I had to figure these things out on a trial and error basis.

  Mostly by error.

  I imagined my shield enveloping me in a cloak that was the same temperature as the outside air.

  A chill passed over me.

  The air was already cold, but it seemed to go down a few more degrees. I shivered and stood up from my crouch. I imagined my shield cloak projecting what was behind me in front of me. Basically hiding me behind false wall.

  A wave of dizziness washed over me. I almost stumbled, but the dizziness passed quickly. I blinked at the dust swirling around the other ship. Things seemed…fuzzier as I looked at it. Like there was some gauzy barrier between myself and the ship.

  A feeling of fatigue took hold of me. I was using a lot of energy for this fancy shield.

  But, strangely, the fatigue receded. Not entirely, but enough for me to get moving. A part of me wondered where the energy was coming from. I hadn’t eaten for hours, and I wasn’t touching any other power source. Was I?

  This wasn’t the time to look gift horses in the mouth.

  I moved down the stairs and eased around the side of the Ministry of Records. There, I crouched down behind a large stone, vaselike sculpture that looked like it had once been a planter.

  I settled down to watch and see what this new ship would bring.

  I didn’t have long to wait.

  Even as the sound of turbines winding down started to fade into the howling and moaning wind, a hatch opened on the side of the craft. Cold blue light poured out the opening. Moments later, six large Don in armored suits quickly exited. They carried what could only be rifles of some sort in their armored hands.

  They fanned out on either side of the hatch. They held their weapons ready, panning back and forth at the night darkened, sand and dust blasted plaza.

  A minute later, a seventh Don exited the craft. This Don was smaller, but held itself upright like it was used to being in command.

  Had the Don in charge decided to come down to the planet itself?

  The smaller, commanding Don had on an armored suit similar to Kawl’s, but without the fancy stuff. Though it was hard to tell if it had any designs, what with all the darkness and wind driven dust going on.

  What the other Don did have were a pair of slim blasters attached to its forearms. Unlike Kawl’s armor.

  Best to stay out of that guy’s range. Or at least stay behind him. Assuming it was a him.

  The Don waved his arm at the soldiers. They started fanning out toward the wreckage of the ship.

  I had another idea. The Don had to be communicating by radio. Was it possible for me to grab those signals out of the air and listen in?

  I closed my eyes and imagined radio waves emanating from the seven Don out by the ship. Then I imagined a sensor dish above my head, collecting and decoding those signals.

  Suddenly words jumped into my head.

  …looking for that idiot until we find his body.

  Couldn’t have gotten far, sir.

  He’s using his armor. The tracking code indicates he’s underground. Currently moving west.

  Which direction is west on this stinking dirtball?

  Speaking of stink, I was starting to get a whiff of rancid Don stench. That entire race really needed to be introduced to deodorant. Really, really, really needed to.

  There seems to be a system of tunnels underneath the city. Probably a mass transportation system of some sort.

  Well where’s the entrance? Can you map?

  No, sir, there’s too much interference.

  What interference? This planet’s dead?

  Something in the way the area was constructed, or something in the soil, sir.

  Well, find a way around it, Tak, or I'll have you down here looking by hand.

  The in-charge Don barked some orders at his soldiers. Three moved in front of him and started down the street, away from the looming towers of the Dendon government. The other three soldiers got behind the leader dude.

  He stalked after the first soldiers, the other three trailing behind him, sweeping the area with their rifles.

  I waited until they were out of sight.

  I gathered their ship was in orbit was scanning the heck out of this area. I could only hope my shield was enough to keep me from getting caught. I really had my doubts about any shield I generated keeping me from getting incinerated when half a dozen or more plasma blasters were shooting at me.

  I moved out from behind the fancy stone planter and back toward the steps of the Ministry of Records. I briefly considered the open hatchway of the Don ship out in the plaza. It was tempting, but it wasn’t what I needed.

  Maybe later.

  I stole back up to the huge, arching doors, staying close to the thick balustrades as I did. The spotlights from the Don ship were trained on the ground, but the backwash that made it through the blowing dust gave me a better view of the doors.

  They were indeed carved with intricate friezes of Dendon life. It was the first art I’d seen in the city that depicted actual Dendon people. They were tall and slender, with large eyes and delicate faces. The seemed to favor simple, loose clothing and long, flowing hair. The males were a little bigger, their shoulders wider and their hips narrower than the females. And the females had two breasts, sized and placed similar to human women.

  All in all, they just looked like more elongated versions of Earth people.

  It seemed unlikely that races on separate planets would have evolved in such a similar manner. According to SixUnion records, the Dendon were older than any other known spacefaring race in the galaxy.

  Which made me wonder just how old and how well traveled the Dendon were.

  I put my hand on the door of the Ministry of Records. I had my very own Ministry of Records living inside me. But he was being a shit and not telling me much of anything.

  Would I find answers in this building?

  And would I find some artifacts?

  There didn't seem to be a handle on the door. But, about hand height (for an adult-sized Dendon) there was a bare, flat circle where the big, double doors came together. I put my hand on it and pushed.

  The door didn’t budge.

  I concentrated, putting energy into the circle and commanding it to open.

  And it did.

  The door silently moved inward a few inc
hes. A musty scent wafted out.

  I slipped through the opening and into the building.

  Forty-Nine

  Zek

  He hadn’t made up his mind whether or not to kill Captain Tejoh when they finally caught up with the idiot.

  Zek kept a wary on on the battle display in his suit. The hum of the powered up plasma blasters on his arms sent annoying vibrations through the suit. He was awash in the stink of his own body and the oily and ozone tinged scent of the suit itself.

  He should have been grateful he had maker armor. Unlike the dumb suits the security crew wore. They had to clamber into those suits like apes, unlike him. He just had to strip and touch the stunted, black triangle where his neck joined his body.

  He’d been very careful to hide his armor unit from the Captain. Kawl Tejoh would have been highly jealous if he’d found out his first officer had a better class of armor than him.

  Such were the perks of being an Intelligence Officer.

  And, being here on this dust ridden, dead planet was one of the drawbacks of being an IO.

  So much for cushy assignments.

  The three armored soldiers in front of him panned their plasma rifles back and forth. Powerful spotlights attached to the rifles barely cut through the reddish, dusty murk. The wind howled and buffeted at them. The dust and sand rustled over his armor with a hiss that sent chills up his spine.

  He could almost–almost–hear words in those gusts of wind.

  But that was just his imagination getting the better of him.

  The communicator in his helmet chimed. A display blinked at his peripheral vision, telling him a call from The Hojan’s Murder was incoming. He told his suit computer to put it through. A window popped up just below his main field of view. Tak’s weak, worried face filled the window.

  “Report,” Tek said.

  Tak rubbed a hand over his face. Another gesture of weakness.

  If they ever returned back to port, there were going to be reports and recommendations made. The empire had certainly scraped the bottom of the barrel for the crew of The Hojan’s Murder.

  “Sir,” Tak said, “I believe I’ve located an entrance to the underground transport system. There was a pattern of recently disturbed soil that–”

  "Where is it?" Zek said. Sharply. He wasn't interested in the weakling's details. What he needed were results. So they could get off this strangely unsettling world.

  Everything about this planet got his hackles up. The blowing wind. The reddish dust. The tall, silent towers–still standing and unblemished thousands of years after their owners and residents had perished.

  Back in its primitive history, the Don had believed in spirits. That the life energy lingered after a body died.

  Ghosts.

  If he allowed himself to believe in ghosts, then this city, this world, would be filled with the tormented ghosts of all the murdered Dendon.

  But, he was no primitive. He would not believe in spirits.

  According to Don lore, Emperor HeJov himself had engineered the plan that finally put an end to a troublesome rival. The Dendon had constantly blocked the Don from expanding their influence in the galaxy.

  And what had it gotten them?

  Turned to dust by the empire’s glorious maker bomb.

  The dust that still swirled in the wind that howled around the corners of Dendon’s towering buildings.

  “Sir,” Tak said, “The nearest entrance to the underground system will be a thousand feet ahead to your right. Look for an arched, stone canopy.”

  “Understood,” Zek said, “Have you located Captain Tejoh’s armor, or the escape pod?”

  “No sir,” Tak said, “There is too much interference. I am working to divert power from the engines to amplify the sensor array.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Zek said, “I don’t like working blind. Find the Captain.”

  Tak visibly shuddered in the tiny window. “Yes, sir.”

  Zek commanded the window closed before he grew more disgusted by the weakling’s manner.

  He opened up the channel with his guards. Told them to look for the entrance to the tunnel system.

  One of the guards answered back: “Yes sir. This place gives me the creeps.”

  “We don’t need any of that,” Zek snapped back, “This world is dead.”

  “Yes sir.”

  The guard opened up what he thought was a private channel to his buddies. Unbeknownst to him, Zek was monitoring. Another perk of Intelligence Command.

  “This place is filled with ghosts,” one said.

  “Shut up, I don’t want to think about it,” said another.

  “Well, something blew up that ship,” said yet another.

  “Just keep your eyes open,” said a fourth voice. One Zek recognized as the Security Lead–Master Sergeant Bav Kyn. “And keep your weapons ready. If something comes at us, burn it to the ground.”

  “What about Commander Zek?”

  “What about him?” Bav Kyn said.

  “Do we wait for his orders?”

  “Do you want to live? Or do you want to live?” Bav Kyn said.

  There wasn’t a reply.

  Zek made a mental note to stay out of their line fire. And to keep an eye on Master Sergeant Bav Kyn. He was more ambitious than any of this garbage crew had any right to be.

  It wasn’t unheard of for Intelligence Command to place more than one IO on board ships. For the larger battleships and carriers, there would be several Intelligence Officers. But on a garbage barge like the Hojan’s Murder?

  It seemed unlikely.

  But not impossible.

  He called up an info overlay, identifying the guards. Bav Kyn was directly in front of him, between the other two guards. Zek almost called up the Master Sergeant’s dossier. But, if the Security Lead was IC, his dossier would be fake, just like his was. Intelligence Command typically didn’t share who was on their payroll. Even to its own people.

  Zek blew out a frustrated sigh. One more thing to divide his attention. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate.

  “I’ve got movement,” one of the guards said on the battle channel.

  Immediately, the six guards formed a protective circle around the ranking officer. Which should have made him feel better.

  But not on this world. The guard had been right. This planet was creepy. Maybe there weren’t any ghosts. But something was out there.

  “Where?” Bav Kyn said.

  “Quadrant 6,” the first guard said.

  The one to the left of Bav Kyn.

  “Scanners to maximum,” Bav Kyn barked.

  "Movement. Quadrant three."

  Almost directly behind them.

  “Movement. Quadrant 5.”

  “What is it?” Bav Kyn said, “Give me composition.”

  “Sensors aren’t locking on long enough,” the first guard said, “Thing’s like a ghost.”

  Zek opened the command channel. Sweat ran down his face. Blood roared in his ears. The guards were panning their rifles back and forth in their assigned quadrants. The powerful spotlights on the barrels played over the towering buildings. The lights cast jumpy, sharp-edged shadows.

  “This isn’t a ghost,” Zek said, “It’s the enemy. If it comes at us, fire everything.”

  There. He was in command. Not Bav Kyn.

  Something metallic glimmered at the edge of one of the lights. Then stepped fully into the light.

  “Q4!” a guard shouted.

  Six humming plasma rifles swung toward Quadrant four.

  The circle around Zek was broken as the guards fanned out to confront the thing sitting in the light.

  Something he realized as his own suit sensors picked up movement behind them.

  He spun around. But the thing was already on them.

  Huge. Bronzed metal. Dozens of spidery silver arms.

  And two fiery red eyes.

  Zek commanded the plasma cannons on his forearms to fire.

  The pla
sma splashed off the thing.

  Not possible.

  The guards were already spinning around. Plasma arced out from their rifles.

  From out of the night, came more bronzed metal creatures.

  Fifty

  Titus

  The Don dude–who claimed to be captain of a ship–was winding down his latest effort at getting out of the golden room.

  Titus crouched in an out of the way corner and tried to act like a piece of furniture. If he stayed still enough, the bronzy sea cucumber things left him alone. He’d stopped trying to communicate with them.

  They weren’t too bright.

  Not like the big worm thing. What had Chris called it? Metal Murder Worm.

  Yeah, that sounded about right.

  He had no doubt that once these things were done with him he was going to be tossed in the bone room. Lucky him, getting to be the first Earth person bones in there.

  Yay Earth.

  The Don, Kawl something or other, beat at the doors. Shouting and frothing at the mouth. The dude might have been more effective if he wasn’t stark naked.

  Somehow, the murder worm had deactivated Kawl’s nano machine armor.

  He'd heard about the Don armor, of course. That was one brief he'd actually listened to because it sounded super cool. Who the hell wouldn't want a super suit of armor that you carried around all the time.

  It would be absolutely bitchin’.

  Though, it didn’t do such a bitchin’ job against Dendon murder worms.

  It didn’t seem like much of anything was effective against them.

  He cast a quick glance at the table thing in the middle of the room. Actually, it was more like an altar or something like that. Gold colored, of course. It was like this solid block that had been extruded from the floor. It had a raised lip around the edge of the thick top. Designs of some sort were carved into that edge, though he hadn't taken a close look at them.

  The murder worm and its smaller buddies–including the freaky thing with wings–got aggressive when he came near it.

  Or maybe that had more to do with what was on top of it.

  Who was on top that altar thing.