Warblegrub and the Forbidden Planet (19 page)

“They’re fantastic!” cried 312. “What are they?”

“They feed on negative emotions,” Warblegrub explained, as they circled the struggle at a safer distance, “like hatred and anger, converting them into energy – very efficiently!”

She looked sceptical.

“Seriously – the energy released by a single human tantrum can propel one of them for more than a light year!”

It was clear, however, that the jellysquids were pitted against an incredible power. Their brilliant colours were growing pale and, one by one, the marvellous creatures faded and vanished.

Shmi was alarmed. “I warned you they wouldn’t be strong enough!”

Warblegrub’s face said all that needed to be said.

The sky grew darker and soon there were no more jellysquids left to take the place of those that disappeared. But when only a few pale specimens remained, Kali faltered at last. Like a fly in a web, her struggles grew weaker and her opponents began to recover, growing brighter as her red eyes faded. Then she stumbled and hung limp in their tentacles.

“Never doubted them for a minute!” Warblegrub declared, with absolute conviction, and the surviving jellysquids blazed with colour once again.

Shmi smiled fondly at him but kept her thoughts to herself.

“What are they called?” asked 395.

“Haven’t given them a name yet,” Warblegrub replied, “but I think
Pan-dimensional Psychic Pollution Elimination Entities
suits them rather well, if you need a name. They were created to help deal with the horror and suffering you humans leave behind wherever you go.”

“And very effective they appear to be!” said 395, as he eyed the unconscious Kali warily. “Did you create them?”

“The Universe did.”

He frowned.

“You’ll understand one day,” Warblegrub assured him.

“In a thousand years?”

“Maybe a
little
sooner.”

Chapter Twenty

Returning with an armful of driftwood, Warblegrub found 395 still sitting beside the glowing embers of the fire, watching the sun set over another island, as beautiful and enchanting as the volcanic archipelago. The clouds turned pink then purple and merged into the deep blue of night, and when darkness had dominion, Warblegrub laid twigs on the embers and built the fire up into a blaze. Laughter and applause nearby disturbed them but 395 merely glanced at his comrades, sitting around another fire a little further along the beach, all under the spell of Shmi and her stories and songs.

Warblegrub sat beside him. “Don’t you want to join them?”

395 shook his head.

The last band of light faded from the horizon and high overhead, the stars emerged.

“His heart will remain here and he will be broken,”
said Warblegrub to himself.

“They are all broken,” said Shmi, coming up behind him. She slid an arm round his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “It’s why you love them still!”

The surviving humans awoke in the morning to a blue sky with only a few wisps of cloud. Disappointed to have missed the dawn, as soon as 395 was up he sat on the beach again and gazed longingly at the sky. Warblegrub sat beside him and Alex joined them. In silence they watched the waves roll ashore and the clouds drift lazily by until Alex pointed out a large flock of birdpeople flying low over the waves, heading for a nearby island.

“What are so many of them doing here?” asked 395.

“Coming home to roost.”

He was confused.
“Coming home to roost?”

“They’ve decided to settle here….”

“Decided to settle here!”

Warblegrub looked puzzled. “Why are you repeating everything I say?”

“I’m objecting to you giving our world to another species!”

Warblegrub groaned. “You can be so
human
sometimes!”

“Was it ever really our world?” asked Alex pointedly.

“Exactly!” agreed Warblegrub. “And besides, it would be a crime to leave such a beautiful planet so sparsely inhabited.”

Not for the first time, nor for the last, 395 looked at him with wonder, marvelling at the knowledge and power he had glimpsed cloaked in such a shabby form. He wondered what other powers he possessed and what secrets he knew.

“Will we ever be able to return?” he asked.

Warblegrub shook his head doubtfully. “It appears you are inherently and irredeemably violent and destructive – the worst sentient species the Universe has ever seen.”

“Surely not the worst?” protested Alex.

Warblegrub searched his recollections. “There was one race,” he remembered, “thousands of light years from here. They were so awful their own planet swallowed them up before they could invent space travel.”

“What do you mean '
their own planet swallowed them'?
”

“It was so embarrassed by their behaviour….”

“Are you saying the
planet
was sentient?”

“We must visit a sentient planet sometime,” Warblegrub suggested and clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. “And maybe,” he added, “just maybe – when you
all
remember how to enjoy a sunset – you will find another home too.”

When they had eaten barbecued fish and swum in the ocean, Warblegrub summoned the humans. Now senior officer, Alex called them to attention, but although 312, 2116, 1642 and Peter on his stretcher saluted her promptly, she noticed they wore vacant expressions. 395, however, was as alert as she.

“Here’s the deal,” Warblegrub told them. “The others will have their memories altered. They will not remember that they found Earth. All they will recall is that the fleet was attacked and destroyed by a superior, unknown force. You made an emergency landing on an unknown planet, where you were then attacked by an unknown life form. However, in the hope you might teach some wisdom to your infernal species before it’s too late, you two can keep your memories intact – well, as intact as possible for humans.”

At his words, the events of the last days came flooding back to Alex and 395 – a great wave of images and emotions: their lost comrades, the dead city, and the landscapes and life forms of this extraordinary planet that had once been their species’ home.

Warblegrub sighed. “Knowledge is a burden,” he agreed, though his voice sounded strange. “The burden will be greatest for you,” he warned Alex.

Although Warblegrub was speaking, she could also hear Shmi’s voice mingling with his, and yet she was nowhere to be seen.

“When you return to your people,” the voices continued, and now they were joined by Kali and Fardelbear, “you will not reveal the planet’s location….”

Another voice was the elephant’s and she also heard the monkey, and realised there were a great many other voices besides.

“…and you must never speak of its existence to your government!” the chorus commanded, and Warblegrub’s eyes flashed red.

Alex nodded dumbly, her sincerity apparent. She remained there, drained of emotions, gazing into his shining eyes. He smiled and she felt her strength begin to return.

“How do we get off the planet?” interrupted 395, feeling left out.

“I’m sure Shmi can fix the ship you came in,” Warblegrub replied, with his voice alone. “She’s good with machines and whatnot.” Then he grinned at 395. “But you can stay if you like!”

*

As the newly repaired warship roared into life, 395 stood to attention and saluted. From the cockpit, Alex returned his salute, as did Peter from his stretcher at the top of the ramp. Then 395 waved and they waved back. The hatch closed, the engines flared and the ship slowly began to rise. Clear of the trees, it climbed more swiftly then roared off into the clear blue sky.

“Why am I allowed to stay?” asked 395, as it soared away over the star-shaped mountain.

“They have a duty to each other and to the mission, whatever its outcome.”

“So do I!”

Warblegrub shook his head. “You have another duty.”

“To whom?”

“To knowledge and wisdom.”

“If you say so,” agreed 395, liking the idea.

“You’re going to have to tell me your name though,” said Warblegrub. “I don’t like these numbers – very impersonal!”

395 chuckled. “It’s Adam,” he admitted.

Warblegrub laughed. “The first man – perfect!”

The ship was soon lost to sight among the stars and Warblegrub and Adam turned away.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!” declared Warblegrub, as they walked side by side through the trees.

*

A field of stars flowered all around as the little ship left the Earth’s atmosphere. Alex looked back through the monitor. The blue-green planet shone like a jewel and on top of the spinning orb a figure danced. He was a deep blue colour, like the depths of the ocean, and almost invisible against the background of space. His many arms moved in sinuous patterns as he twisted and turned on nimble feet. And though he appeared strangely human, she knew it was Fardelbear, who was called the Destroyer.

A smile lit his face when their eyes met and Alex heard a voice, deep and mellow, as wise as the Universe was old.

“Remember,” he said, and she saw him no more.

Epilogue

Private 749 was woken by raindrops on his face. Quaking with cold and gnawingly hungry, he sat up, discovering in the process that he was lying in a bed of brambles. With his vision blurred, at first he thought he had fallen into one of the ravines surrounding his settlement camp then his eyes came back into focus. Towering skyscrapers surrounded him and he found he had been lying between two rows of rusting vehicles. He remembered the mission, the chase and the monster, and fear took hold.

Unpicking himself from the brambles, he rose unsteadily and looked round the gloomy, deserted street. The vehicles and buildings were riddled with bullet holes and one of his comrades was lying nearby, face down, across the bonnet of a car. The tags identified him as Private 932 but when he turned the corpse over he was stunned to find the eyeless sockets of a ginning skull staring back at him.

749 tried the com-link but there was no response. Fighting panic, he made for the harbour, following the sound of mewing gulls. But within minutes a thick fog descended, rolling down the sides of the buildings like curtains. As he trudged over the long line of vehicles, he realised the gulls had fallen silent and wondered whether he was heading in the right direction. A harsh cackling sound rang out behind him, like mocking laughter. Stopping dead, 749 drew his sidearm and turned to find a crow sitting on a pile of rubble, watching him with beady eyes. The jet-black bird appeared unconcerned when he raised the weapon and when he pulled the trigger nothing happened. He pulled the trigger again but the clip was empty, and while he fumbled with another, the crow flew off, cackling into the mist.

He set off again, glancing warily up at the towering grey buildings that hemmed him in, but before he had gone much further, he heard laughter again and spun round, his weapon ready. Instead of the single crow, there were now dozens of black birds, perched on the roofs of cars, on top of lamp posts and on balconies. He fired a shot into the air but the black birds sat there, their laughter growing louder. Starting to jog over the roofs of the cars and vans, he found himself barely able to jump the gaps between them. When he glanced over his shoulder, he snagged his boot on a bramble and stumbled, falling headlong into the trench between the vehicles. Deafened by the crows, he rolled onto his back and saw that the sky was black with them. Despite the brambles and the pain, he scrambled back onto the cars and ran as fast as he could.