Warblegrub and the Forbidden Planet (5 page)

395 rose, squared his shoulders and faced the Colonel. “We don’t know what we’re up against,
Sir
,” he said levelly. “We’re going to need all the help we can get!”

“He’s already told us all we need to know, S.O. You heard him – that thing won’t stop until it kills every one of us, so we must kill it first!”

The removal of the Colonel’s sunglasses was enough to silence 395’s retort.

They marched southwest through what remained of the afternoon and on into the evening. Though it was many years since 395 had been afraid of the dark, now he started at every movement in the shadows. Dread grew on them all as the sun’s last light vanished and, knowing there could be no hiding from Fardelbear, they kept to the crest of the ridge, scouring the steep slopes on either side through their night vision visors.

Even when the bright moon had risen, they made slow progress through such rugged terrain and it was gone midnight when they stopped to rest again, choosing for defence another rocky outcrop. Like a watchtower, it stood at a high point on the ridge and commanded a view of the valleys on either side. While the company secured a perimeter with mines, trip wires and infrared cameras, the Colonel climbed up and looked back towards the dark mass of the mountain, just visible beneath the lowering clouds. When the camp was secure, he called them to attention.

“Corporal 236,” he announced, “you are promoted to Sergeant, effective immediately.”

236 saluted smartly, climbed up nimbly to receive a notepad, then dropped back to the ground like a gymnast. She called the roll and they answered present, until she came to Private 3279.

“Private 3279!” she repeated, but the silence persisted.

Glancing back along the jagged black line of the ridge, they all wondered who would be next.

Chapter Six

Mesmerised, 395 watched bats, birds and rodents darting and flitting through the scrub. Warm-blooded, they were picked out in vivid colours by the infra-red cameras and his eyes remained fixed on the screen until Private 749 relieved him from duty. Stretching his aching limbs, he looked round for somewhere to unroll his sleeping bag and found the last unoccupied flat space at the base of the rock tower. He sat there for a while, gazing out over the highlands, watching slender shafts of moonlight scour the earth like searchlights. Imagining a fleet of alien invaders descending, it occurred to him that they were the aliens here. It also occurred to him that he was missing Warblegrub.

Just as he was settling into his sleeping bag, one of the perimeter mines exploded. Sitting bolt upright, he glimpsed Fardelbear as he circled the camp, detonating the other mines. As before, the soldiers scrambling to their feet caught only a fleeting glimpse, this time of a creature resembling a monstrous spider with an elongated neck, clearing boulders and bushes with easy bounds. As soon as they opened fire, he leapt out of range and vanished into the darkness.

Hidden among the rocks, 395 readied his weapon, a high-powered marksman’s rifle, deadly over more than a kilometre. He exchanged a nod with Private 585, who was nearby with one of the Redeemers, but Fardelbear returned from a completely unexpected direction. Before they could react, he bounded onto the rock tower, tore the guards apart like rag dolls and flung the pieces away. Crouched there on his haunches, he swayed from side to side as he searched for prey. Not only did he appear unharmed by the gunfire, he actually seemed to be basking in it.

Private 207 fired a rocket that streaked past its target, dwindled into the distance and exploded on the opposite ridge, but when 585 fired another, Fardelbear made no attempt to avoid it; instead, he opened his mouth wide and swallowed it.

The soldiers flinched but there was only a dull, muffled explosion deep inside the monster. Then his eyes opened wide and blazed with a brilliant white light. Inhaling a great draught of air, he began to swell. Those who guessed what this portended dived for cover but the jet of white fire that spewed from his mouth caught many more where they stood, struck dumb with amazement. There was no time to scream; a second later the victims were little piles of ash.

*

As he watched the soldiers follow the ridgeline south, Warblegrub massaged his chest where the Colonel had shot him. They made camp at the rock tower and when all was still and silent, Warblegrub wandered back towards the mountain.

“Fardelbear can have them!” he growled.

A pair of owls were calling softly to each other in the valley below and he stopped to watch the ghostly white birds hunting for prey. When he glanced back along the ridge, he was feeling more sympathetic towards the humans.

“After all,” he reminded himself, “if I’d given up on them every time they killed me, they wouldn’t have survived a single millen….”

At the sound of the explosion, Warblegrub turned and started back towards the camp. As more explosions followed and gunfire rang out, he began to run. Having had no need to hurry for a very long time, he was out of practice but each step grew larger and more confident, and soon he was clearing rocks and bushes in easy bounds. As he drew near the rock tower there was sustained gunfire and he hopped on top of a boulder, but before he could make out what was happening, a missile came streaking towards him and he threw himself flat on the surface of the rock. The missile passed overhead and Warblegrub looked up in time to see Fardelbear swallowing the second one, and the jet of white fire spewing from his mouth.

Warblegrub’s heart was racked with pain as many of the humans died but when the pain eased he leapt to his feet. He found the survivors scattering in all directions like a nest of mice disturbed by a cat. Scrub grass and bushes were burning all around the rock tower but there was no sign of Fardelbear. The Colonel was nearby, cursing horribly, and as Warblegrub looked desperately for other survivors, Fardelbear returned.

Charging straight at the Colonel, he failed to notice Warblegrub, who sprang from the boulder and landed on his back. Fardelbear leapt and bucked like a bull as he tried to shake off his unexpected passenger, and carried Warblegrub far along the ridge before he stumbled under the weight. They rolled together down the hillside and came to rest in a dry gully, with Fardelbear pinned to the ground. When their eyes met, both pairs blazed red but Fardelbear’s faded first, and when Warblegrub released his hold, the creature scuttled away into the darkness, snarling with rage and frustration.

Warblegrub caught up with him among the clouds, sitting on a rock shelf near the summit of the mountain. He was hunched over a pile of bones, polishing a gleaming white human skull which he held up for Warblegrub’s inspection.

“Very nice!” he observed with distaste. “Are you making a necklace?”

Fardelbear nodded.

“Very macabre,” said Warblegrub, and looked round at the discarded jumpsuits and helmets, wondering if their owners had been such terrible people. He squatted down in front of Fardelbear and looked him in the eye. “We need to talk!”

Fardelbear’s growl, rather like that of a large cat, was unmistakably negative.

“We have to deal with the humans!”

“I’m dealing with them.” The feline impression was not dispelled when he spoke.

“You can’t kill them all!”

“Watch me.”

“I forbid it!” Warblegrub’s tone was surprisingly commanding.

Fardelbear’s eyes flashed.
“You forbid it!”

Though a lesser being would have turned to jelly, Warblegrub simply nodded.

“They’ve broken the law,” Fardelbear snarled. “They must pay the price!”

“Only those who are guilty,” replied Warblegrub firmly.

“Intergalactic Law,”
Fardelbear reminded him.
“Article 15,789, Section C!”

“I know!
‘No human, or human-guided craft, may enter the atmosphere or land on the surface of Restricted Planet 1743. Formerly known as ‘Earth’.’
”

“There! They’re
all
guilty, and any breach of the article carries the death penalty!”

“The law’s too harsh,” said Warblegrub.

“Not harsh enough in my opinion but that’s the way it is. Besides, we can’t risk letting them reach the harbour! Can you imagine the disaster if they get their grubby little hands on
those
weapons?”

“All too well, and I’ll let you deal with any of them I can’t persuade to turn back.”

Fardelbear snorted. “I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“This isn’t about justice!” His voice had grown less harsh, black pupils were forming in his fiery eyes and his face was taking on a decidedly human shape.

“What then?”

“You’ve missed them!”

Warblegrub shrugged. “They do bring a bit of excitement to the place.”

Fardelbear laughed out loud but, seeing Warblegrub’s resolve, he relented. “I’ll spare those who turn back,” he conceded. “But every one of them who doesn’t will know terror before they die!”

Then his eyes blazed again and all human semblance was gone.

Chapter Seven

With shimmering turquoise wings and a bright orange breast, the little bird seemed to have sprung from another dimension, a halcyon world where colours were more intense. From the moment it darted into view 395 was enchanted. He sat on the trunk of a fallen tree to watch it fish in a pool, the previous night’s horrors forgotten for a while.

“Do you know his name?” asked a familiar voice.

“Alcedo atthis,”
395 replied, drawing his sidearm slowly, “also known as the
Kingfisher
or the
Icebird
.” He stood up and the bird darted away upstream.

Warblegrub gave him a withering look. “Do you really think you need that
thing
with me?”

Embarrassed, 395 returned the gun to its holster. “How come you’re alive?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

Warblegrub looked him over doubtfully. “You might understand when you’re old enough.”

“Old enough?”

“Maybe in a thousand years or so.” He knelt down, washed his face in the cold, clear water then sat on the tree trunk next to 395. “Now, how about telling me your name?”

“Science Officer 395.”

“Not that number nonsense again!” groaned Warblegrub and turned back to the stream.

There was an uncomfortable silence until the dazzling bird returned. It perched on the same overhanging twig and started to fish again, diving deep into the pool. As he watched it swallow fish after struggling fish, 395 recalled the previous night’s events.

“What about that creature,
Fardelbear
, will he return?”

“Not if you humans see sense.”

“Sense!”
395 flared and the kingfisher flew off again. “That monster murdered dozens of my comrades!”

“Hypocrite!” cried Warblegrub and stood up. “The list of your species’ murders is as long as an arm of the Milky Way!” He straightened his wrinkled coat, dusted it down then strode off, pool and wildlife forgotten. “Come on!”

“Where?”

“To gather your friends before they do any more harm.”

395 hurried after him. “Then there are other survivors?”

“A few.”

“I’ve tried calling them on my radio.”

“It’s not working.”

“How do you know?” asked 395 suspiciously.

“I’d forgotten how much you humans talk,” said Warblegrub, stopping in his tracks. “Is it so that you don’t have to think?”

395 ignored him. “What about that monster? Where is he?”

“Monster!”
snapped Warblegrub. “Only a human would call him a monster!”

“So tell me what he is! And what are you for that matter? What are you both doing here?”

“And what about
you?
” Warblegrub retorted. “What are you humans doing here? You were exiled and this planet was hidden from you!”