Warblegrub and the Forbidden Planet (7 page)

“What do you mean?”

“You said evicted – you were banished!”

“Words!”
sneered the Colonel.

“Then you haven’t yet faced the truth!”

“What
truth?
”

Warblegrub gaped at him in astonishment. “That you poisoned your planet and murdered most of its species!”

“The only thing that matters to me and my people,” hissed the Colonel, as the others grew aware of the argument, “is that this is
our
planet and it was taken from us!”

“I pity you,” said Warblegrub, shaking his head in disbelief, “but I pity those who follow you more. A planet belongs to no one, we are fortunate to receive its bounty!”

The Colonel’s look was pure contempt but he had no reply.

“There’s the tunnel!” called the Sergeant and the Colonel stormed off to the front of the column, leaving Warblegrub shaking with anger.

Overhung with creepers, the tunnel mouth was dark and forbidding, and all were relieved not to be taking that route. Their relief, however, was short-lived as once again they were forced to hack laboriously through the undergrowth and cut another path up another steep wooded hillside.

“There can’t be any large animals here,” 395 noted.

“Why do you say that?” Sarah asked.

“The undergrowth’s too thick; large animals make paths.”

“Only insects, birds, small mammals and reptiles so far,” Warblegrub confirmed. “The sea had to be cleaned first; now it’s fully restocked, we’re working on the land, and creating a balance between predators and prey is a delicate business.”

The Colonel glanced back.
“We?”

“I have friends,” Warblegrub admitted. “They’re helping me clean up.”

“Friends?”

“You’ve met Fardelbear already.”

The Colonel stopped in his tracks. “That monster – a friend!”

“Actually he’s more a partner than a friend.”

“You’d better explain!”

“I make things grow, he makes them die. Right now he thinks you should die.”

Warblegrub and the Colonel were eyeball to eyeball once more, and the soldiers glanced nervously at them as they passed.

“And what do you think?” the Colonel asked dangerously.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing on my planet, but neither you nor your
partner
, will prevent us doing our duty!”

“As always you choose to learn the hard way!” groaned Warblegrub.

As they climbed the hillside, they saw buildings among the trees; mostly small houses whose streets, paths and gardens were lost in the undergrowth. Near the top, the houses were much larger and must once have been elegant, with extensive gardens behind tall walls and wrought iron gates. One particularly long driveway was still visible through the foliage and at the end they glimpsed the grandest dwelling they had yet seen.

“So many windows!” marvelled Sarah. “Who lived there – a king?”

“A fair number were rich enough to live like this…” 395 glanced at the Colonel to see if he was listening, “…far from contact with the poor, which presumably made it easier to ignore their suffering.”

“I heard that our own greed brought the Exile on us,” agreed Private 856, overhearing them. “My mother told me we wouldn’t share our resources or control our appetites.”

At the crest of the hill they came to a low fence, beyond which were strange metal structures; domes and towers made of bars and ladders, and a row of little seats hanging on rusting chains, all entangled among the brambles.

“It’s a playground!” exclaimed a delighted Sarah.

A quick search of the undergrowth revealed a climbing frame, a slide and a roundabout, but before they had finished uncovering all the amusements, the Colonel summoned them from the far side of the playground.

“Come and see!” he cried.

With a machete, he had opened up a view of the city that now lay before them. Stretching away into the hazy distance, the vast labyrinth of crumbling buildings covered every inch of the coastal plain between the hills and the sea. The setting sun glinted on flooded streets and spreading marshland, but most of all on the shards of shattered glass that still clung to the rusting frames of the skyscrapers. The towering apartment blocks and offices, where humankind had once lived and laboured by the million, were all now empty and silent. Like gigantic fungi they sprouted in clusters of varying sizes, with one main mass in the city centre. From the air, they had been impressive but here, looming over the kilometres of sprawling suburbs and industrial zones that still showed through the shroud of vegetation, they took on a new and horrifying aspect; as the shadows rose they became the gravestones of a civilization.

“Can you imagine living in them?” said Alex with a shudder.

“Your grandparents did,” Warblegrub reminded her.

“We’ll camp here tonight,” the Colonel decided.

They watched transfixed as the sun sank below the horizon. A band of rose-coloured light lingered for a while then night descended. The swollen moon was floating low in the sky and once again the skyscrapers were transformed. Now stark, grim towers of eerie silver light and cold blue shadow, they became a realm of nightmares. Far away, they heard the deep booming call of a lonely marsh bird and imagined unquiet spirits, the ghosts of their ancestors, stalking the deserted streets.

Chapter Nine

Unable to sleep, 395 decided to relieve Private 585 from duty early. As he picked a path between his sleeping comrades and approached the swings where his friend was sitting, he saw Warblegrub perched on the roundabout.

“Why this secrecy about names?”

“We forsook our names when we signed up for this mission,” replied 585 quietly. “It’s symbolic.”

“Of what?”

There was a pause then 585 laughed softly. “Can’t remember,” he admitted.

Warblegrub chortled. “So what is it?”

There was another pause, and though 395 realised his comrade was about to break his oath, he had wanted to know his name since they befriended each other on the first day’s training for the mission.

585 glanced round but failed to notice 395 directly behind. “It’s Peter,” he said quietly.

“An ancient name,” approved Warblegrub.
“Petros
– the rock. Suits you!”

395 waited a few moments then announced his presence with a cough and approached. He made no mention of what he had heard but now his friend had a name which could not be forgotten, and he remembered his own with an uncomfortable start.

Peter accepted his offer gratefully, unrolled his sleeping bag nearby and was soon snoring. 395 sat on the swing with the tablet on his lap, intending to study new data from the satellite. He glanced at Warblegrub, who was staring intently at the city, seemingly annoyed by his interruption. The scudding clouds were trailing shadows over the moonlit streets and canyons, and 395 too was soon lost in the vast mosaic of silver and grey.

“Can you feel it?” asked the Colonel, appearing at his shoulder.

395 shuddered. “Feel what, Sir?”

“We’re being watched.”

“You certainly are!” said Warblegrub.

“By whom?”

“The whole Universe watches you, Colonel. All your actions are judged!”

The Colonel groaned. “I think I preferred that Fardelbear monster,” he muttered and went to find a place to sleep.

Though 395 could see nothing but derelict buildings, it was only too easy to imagine that they were being watched, and that the city was alive with the ghosts of their ancestors.

“They’ll be forgotten soon enough,” said Warblegrub, “and those towers will be your species’ last memorials.”

395 was startled. “Are you reading my mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“I was just thinking about ghosts!”

Warblegrub chuckled. “It was obvious from your expression.”

“So you
can’t
read minds?”

“Of course I can, but I’d rather not – they’re usually full of nonsense!”

395 couldn’t help but laugh, which attracted a disapproving glance from the Colonel. He turned quickly back to his watch but when he looked again he noticed Warblegrub was still staring at the ruined city with a furrowed brow.

“What is it?” he asked when he heard the Colonel snoring.

“Forebodings!” replied Warblegrub.

“Fardelbear?”

“I said
forebodings
.”

“I meant forebodings about Fardelbear.”

Warblegrub’s smile was brief. “There are worse things than Fardelbear,” he warned.

Coming over, he took the tablet from 395’s lap before he could protest, studied it for a moment then handed it back. At once, a recording that 395 had never seen before began, of a city at night in the days of its habitation. Beneath the glare of a million blazing lights he saw streets gridlocked with traffic and heaving with crowds of stony-faced people, assailed by the din of engines, horns, mobile phones and a hundred-thousand voices. And glimpsed in alleyways, huddled under bridges and rooting among the garbage piled along the roadsides and riverbanks, were the poor and homeless, unheard and unnoticed, their suffering ignored.

The recording ended abruptly and he looked round. Warblegrub was nowhere to be seen but the Colonel was sitting up in his sleeping bag, staring at the city, moonlight glinting in his eyes.

After his watch, 395 slept solidly and woke to an overcast sky and a world that was grey and drab. An equally miserable breakfast of army rations awaited him and while he ate, he watched Warblegrub and the Colonel talking. Their conversation seemed friendly enough and the Colonel even laughed at some comment of Warblegrub’s.

“What do you make of him?” asked Sarah, squatting beside 395.

He remained intent on the conversation.

“At least he’s keeping that monster away,” she added.

395 glanced round. “For now!”

“Do you trust him?”

He shrugged.

“Do you think he would let us…go free?”

“We’ve sworn an oath!” 395 reminded her sharply.

Sarah checked to see if any of the others had overheard. “I just wondered if we could trust him,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t suggesting I would…you know…”

“Don’t worry; just watch what you say out loud!”

Sarah clapped a comradely hand on his shoulder and moved on.

Breakfast was brief and the Sergeant soon called the company to order. As they set off down the hillside, 395 looked back at the highlands; a storm was brewing over the mountain.

By mid-morning they were hacking their way through deserted and overgrown suburban streets, but as they ventured deeper into the labyrinth, the long lines of squat brick houses gave way to taller apartment blocks.

“This was one of the poorer areas,” said Warblegrub. “Most of the buildings in this district were jerry-built; another decade and they will have collapsed and vanished into the forest.” He sounded pleased at the prospect.