Forbidden World

by Jeremy Michelson

  They didn’t deserve death from the skies.

  But that never stopped it from coming, did it?

  "Let me tell you a story about my Grandma Tatzy," I said, "She was my grandma on my dad's side. His mom. She was one of those sweet old grandma types who was kind of plump and had really thick glasses and loved to bake cookies and bread and good stuff like that."

  “Really Chris?” Liz said, “Now?”

  “It’s relevant,” I said.

  “Shouldn’t you be concentrating on not killing us with your crazy flying?” Liz said.

  “Awww, I thought I was doing pretty good,” I said, “Anyway, Grandma Tatzy was pretty nice most of the time. She’d bake us cookies and brownies and cupcakes. But she had a dark secret.”

  “Your words are irrelevant,” The Dragon said, “Prepare for your death.”

  The Dragon was practically on our tail.

  Fortunately the dust storm was right ahead.

  I readied a few special missiles. Zek had given me the idea with his talk about a holobomb. It didn't take a genius to guess that the bomb was basically a decoy of some sort. I'd inventoried the ship's missiles and found I could modify them. It wouldn't be a perfect fit. But it would buy me a little more time.

  As the ship plunged into the reddish-gray wall of the dust storm, I released the missiles. They spiraled off in all directions.

  I’d managed to reprogram their laser guidance systems into projectors. Not very good ones, but good enough.

  Hopefully.

  I turned on the ship’s infrared lights. The landscape came into fuzzy relief. The capital city was rapidly approaching.

  I didn’t have much time left.

  The missiles turned on their projectors.

  Suddenly there were fuzzy images of the Dendon ship all over the place. I had them weave in and around the ship in a chaotic pattern.

  The Dragon slowed.

  “You cannot fool me,” It said.

  Never-the-less, it blew a stream of augmented plasma at one of the missiles.

  It exploded in a spectacular shower of light and debris.

  Enough to rock the ship. Hard.

  Warnings flashed across my mind as the ship bleated its owies at me. Shrapnel had pierced the skin in several places.

  And done critical damage to the starboard drives.

  Crap.

  I feathered back the starboard drives and sent more power to the other side to compensate.

  I concentrated on the landscape hurtling beneath the ship. We were close. But not close enough. The ship couldn’t take another blast like that.

  I commanded the missiles to arc back. I aimed them all for the Dragon’s head.

  The Dragon reared back, dumping speed as images of almost a dozen ships came crashing toward him.

  Just before the missiles hit, I activated the L-Drive.

  For an instant, there was silence and nothingness. My body seemed to go away. My consciousness was still attached to the ship. I stared into the hollow void of L-space. My grip on reality slipped.

  I brought the ship back to normal space.

  Atmosphere and dust and debris slammed into the ship.

  Connected to the ship, it was almost a physical pain as we pushed back into real space. Ship systems screamed at me. Bleating in mechanical agony.

  Through the sensors, I caught sight of the dissipating clouds of debris from the missile strike.

  A glint of bronze caught my eye.

  A huge, winged beast erupted from the fiery cloud.

  The Dragon. Eyes blazing red. Coming for us.

  The Dendon might have over-engineered him just a bit.

  But the missiles had widened the gap. I calculated the distance to the city. If the ship held up, we might make it.

  I smoothed the ship’s damage warnings away. Rerouted what I could. Coaxed a little more speed out of the port engines.

  And still the Dragon hurtled toward us.

  I clicked on the communicator.

  “So, I was telling you about my grandma Tatzy,” I said, “Almost the perfect picture of a sweet little old grandma. But she had a secret.

  “I think I was about sixteen when I realized we never went over to her house. I didn’t even know where her house was. I think I finally clued in when one of my friends was talking about going over to his grandmother’s for Thanksgiving.

  “I started thinking about it. Grandma Tatzy always came over to our house early Thanksgiving morning and she’d cook a fantastic dinner for us. I mean, she cooked everything. The turkey and dressing plus a dozen side dishes. Plus the pies she’d baked and brought over.

  “Now, I knew she didn’t live that far away. She was in the same town as us. Dad would go over to her house occasionally. And I’d never put it together before then that he always came home in a bad mood from her house.

  “So, I asked mom about it. She just sighed and rolled her eyes and told me to ask dad about it.

  “Okay, then, I asked Dad. He got this grim, half angry look, and told me Grandma Tatzy had some issues.

  “About what? I asked with the cluelessness of youth.

  “Just drop it, okay, guy? Dad said.

  “Now, dad was never brusque or angry with me. He was about as mellow as a guy could get. He was a great dad. So when he told me to drop something, I knew it was something that really bothered him.

  "So, on my own, I looked up where Grandma Tatzy lived. Which was harder than I thought, since it took some sleuthing to figure out what her name really was.

  “But I did it. It was across town. I had my driver’s license and an old beater that mom and dad got for me. I made the trek and pulled up to this run down house. I had to check the address twice to make sure I had the right place.

  “I parked the car and went up the cracked and crumbling sidewalk. It was early November and the air had a smokey crispness to it. The lawn was patchy and mostly dead. There were giant, overgrown evergreen bushes covering most of the front of the house. What I could see of it, was peeling paint, and gray, weathered wood. The roof looked like half the shingles had blown off.

  “It looked like a dump.

  “I couldn’t believe my sweet grandma Tatzy lived there.

  “I knocked on the door. It had been blue once. Flakes of paint showered down with each knock.

  “No one answered.

  “I knocked again. And again. And again.

  “I started getting worried. Maybe Tatzy had fallen down. Maybe she was sick.

  “Just as I started to knock again, a voice called out from behind me. Don’t bother. That door’s blocked.

  “I spun around. Dad. He stood on the sidewalk. He looked both angry and sad. He half looked like he was going to cry, actually.

  “Apologies started spilling out of my lips. He waved them off with a chop of his hand.

  “Come on, he said, gesturing me to follow him, You want to see. You’ll see.

  “I had no idea what he was talking about. But suddenly I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to run back to my beat up old jalopy and burn rubber out of there.

  “But…I followed him around the back of the house. There was a half falling down porch and another door that seemed in even worse shape than the one up front. Dad pulled a worn key out of his pocket. It unlocked the crummy door–though it looked like a stiff wind could blow it, and the rest of the house down. He pushed the door open. All I could see of the inside was darkness.

  “Mother, dad called out, You decent?

  "She called back from the black pit. It was her voice but I couldn't make the words out.

  “Yes, Chris is with me, Dad said, he wanted to visit.

  “She said something else. Something sharp. It almost sounded like there were naughty words in it. I was shocked. Grandma Tatzy never used naughty words. Dad turned to me. The expression on his face…it was anger and fear and hopelessness all rolled into one.

  “In that moment, I finally saw my father as a human being. He wasn’t that sli
ghtly larger than life figure that brought order and reason to my life. He was just some messed up guy trying to get through life without screwing things up. And doing his best to be a good person. Despite the crap that got thrown at him from certain directions.

  “You don’t want to go in there, he said, and you don’t have to. But you probably should. Just remember truth is always better than a lie. No matter how much it hurts.

  “So we went inside.

  I had to pause there. Not because the Dragon was sending more flaming plasma up my ass. But because, even after all these years, the memories still hurt. I could have been angry at the Dragon for making me drag them up. But that would have been pointless. It wasn’t its fault. It probably wouldn’t even understand the point.

  But I was going to make the point anyway. It might have been just a machine, but it deserved an explanation for what was going to happen.

  Or as close to an explanation as I could give it.

  “Chris?” Liz said.

  Her tone wasn’t angry. She had a way of knowing when my soul was hurting. On those rare occasions, she’d hold me until I came out of it. It was never long, but I was always grateful for her love. Without her, I might keep circling that dark pit of despair until I fell all the way into it. She was my light. She kept me grounded in the real world.

  “I’m okay,” I said, “Just need a sec’ to get the rest of this out.”

  She knew about Grandma Tatzy. Maybe hadn’t heard all the details, but…she knew.

  I checked the sensors. We were almost back to the city. I needed to wrap my story up quickly.

  “You still with me, Dragon old son?” I asked.

  “The city will not protect you,” the Dragon said, “You are already dead.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been dead a lot,” I said, “It doesn’t scare me anymore. But I was telling you about my Grandma Tatzy…

  “I followed Dad into her house. What hit me first was the smell. Well, actually it was a stench. A stench of cat pee and poop and rotting food. It was so strong it stung my eyes and made me sick to my stomach.

  “I almost turned around and ran right then. Maybe I should have. But like dad said, truth was better than a lie.

  “We went inside. Dad flipped on a light switch. A pair of dim bulbs lit up what was obviously a kitchen.

  "The kitchen was filthy. The floor had what looked like decades of grime on it. There was a somewhat clean groove down the middle of it where someone had shuffled back and forth over the years. The cheap vinyl flooring was worn down until the floral pattern was gone and there was just grayish white.

  "The wood cabinets were covered in dusty grease. Spider webs hung from the corners. The countertop was piled with acres of dirty, crusted dishes.

  “And that was just the kitchen. My dad led me through the dining room–which was cluttered with boxes and stacks of dusty magazines and catalogs–and into the living room. A couple gray tabby cats sat on stacks of more books and magazines. At the sight of us, the cats bolted from the room like their tails were on fire. One of the stacks of magazines toppled and fell in an avalanche of paper.

  “It didn’t go far. There was hardly any room in the house to walk. There was just…stuff…everywhere. Covered in grime and dust and cat fur. The air was so thick with the stench of ammonia and old food odors that it was barely breathable.

  “It came to me, that was why Grandma Tatzy coughed so much.

  “Yup, Grandma Tatzy was a hoarder. She never threw anything away. Didn’t clean.

  “And she didn’t want to. Dad told me later that she got mad when he tried to help her clean. He tried to fix her house as best as he could. But he didn’t have the kind of money the house needed to repair all the years of neglect.

  “He had a family to feed. He and mom both worked and sometimes they were still just getting by.

  “And Grandma Tatzy wasn’t happy to see me that day. She was mad. Told me to get out.

  “She was ashamed of what her house had become. But she didn’t want to do anything about it. Or maybe she did. But it seemed like such a huge job that she was afraid to start.

  “Now, you’re probably wondering why I told you such a sad story about my Grandma Tatzy. Well, the story isn’t about her, really.

  “It’s about what happened after she died.

  “You see, her house didn’t just fold itself up and go away when she died. It was still there after dad scattered her ashes in the mountains.

  “Grandma Tatzy’s mess became his responsibility. Her lack of planning…her lack of preparing for her eventual demise led to my father losing months of his life to cleaning up her mess.

  “Months. I barely saw him for half a year. Sometimes I helped him. But mostly he wanted to do it himself.

  "When he started, his hair was mostly brown. When he finally finished, there was white at his temples and white streaked through his hair.

  “He still gets a haunted look on his face whenever the subject of Grandma Tatzy–or hoarder houses–comes up.

  I brought up a map of the city on the screen in front of me. Call me sentimental, but I didn’t want to damage the city. If I could help it. The city actually had some hidden defenses, but they wouldn’t work against the Dragon.

  There was only one object that could take down the Dragon.

  I finessed the damaged engines on the starboard side to give us a little more speed. We pulled a little farther ahead of the Dragon.

  This whole operation was going to be tricky.

  I bit back a curse for all those Dendon scientists and generals who thought a near invulnerable Dragon defender was a good idea.

  At heart, the Dendon people had been hopeless romantics. They wanted their world to have a bit of magic in it. They wanted to believe there was good in everyone.

  They certainly didn’t want to believe anyone would commit terrible atrocities just because they could.

  Come to think of it, Dons and humans are a lot alike, too.

  "So maybe you're wondering why I'm talking about grandmas and hoarder houses and my dad's post-traumatic stress disorder?" I said.

  “I do not wonder, foolish creature,” the Dragon said, “Your words will be lost to the winds of time. Your bones will be dust and no one will have any memory of you. You are insignificant. And irrelevant. Dendon shall rise again and your race will be forgotten. A tiny mote in the infinite eye of the universe.”

  "Well, don't hold back there, Dragon old boy," I said, "Tell me how you really feel.”

  “If I were not so merciful, I would torture you for an eternity and deny you the release of death for soiling the soul of Dendon.”

  Liz spoke up from where she stood behind me. “Dude is harsh,” she said, “When it is my turn?”

  “Soon,” I said.

  “You got something extra for me?” She said.

  “Patience, dear.”

  I was thinking of the horrible rips in her armor the murder worm had done before. Liz’s blood welling up and flowing over her golden armor.

  It wasn’t going to be like that again.

  “So, back to Grandma Tatzy,” I said, “I never really forgave her for what she did to my dad. She could have cleaned up her mess long before she died. She could have been more responsible. She could have asked for help. Maybe she was too proud. Or too embarrassed. Or maybe she just flat didn’t give a crap. Who knows? Dad doesn’t. I’ve asked him.

  “Of course, cleaning up the house wasn’t the only thing dad had to deal with. Grandma Tatzy didn’t leave a will, so there was a legal mess to deal with too.

  "The thing is, one person's selfishness hurts more than just that person. Grandma Tatzy might not have liked to admit it, but at some point, her life was going to come to an end. And other people were going to have to deal with her stuff.

  “The least she could have done was prepare. Even a little bit would have helped.

  “And that brings us back around to Dendon and her people.

  “There’s this thing th
at humans have evolved in our culture over time. It’s called a Last Will and Testament. Basically its a document telling your heirs or others what the heck to do with your property after you’re dead.

  “It’s an uncomfortable thing to admit one’s mortality. But it’s also the responsible thing to do.

  “Now, the leaders of Dendon probably didn’t expect to live forever.

  “But they expected their world, their culture, to keep on trucking forever.

  “So they never put together a Last Will and Testament for their race. Never thought of what might happen to all their dangerous toys in the event the entire race croaked. They never even considered the possibility they might become extinct.

  "They never thought about who might have to come clean out their smelly old house after they weren't around to live in it anymore.

  “So now, the galaxy is littered with bits of Dendon tech. Some of it’s relatively harmless. Some of it not so harmless. A bit of it is a steaming platter of doomsday with a side of Armageddon.

  “And there’s no one here to make sure those bits don’t fall into the hands of children. Like the Don, or even us silly Earthlings.

  “At least, there hasn’t been anyone around until now.

  "Like it or not, Mr. Dragon, I've been handed the job. And one of the first things I have to clean up is you."

  A blood chilling roar blasted from the speakers. Beside me, Zek moaned and stirred. His eyes fluttered open. I gave him a wink.

  “You might want to go back to sleep,” I said, “It only gets worse from here.”

  Zek, mighty Don warrior that he was, whimpered and cringed under the straps holding to the flight couch.

  The capital city rolled out underneath the ship. The circular plaza of the seat of government was coming up fast. I readied the ship for the next, potentially fatal maneuver.

  “You are not the King!” the Dragon screamed, “I am the defender of Dendon! I am her memory! I am her sword. Your stain will be scrubbed from her lands!”

  I took one hand off the control console.

  Gently, I called out to Liz: “Come to me, my golden warrior.”

  In an instant, she was beside me. My fears tried to bubble up. I didn't want to risk her life. But she was the tool I needed at this moment. I couldn't trade places with her, no matter how much I wanted to.