The Forgotten Planet
Chapter 38 – Just out of Reach

The display on our viewscreen shifted from the swirling white clouds and crisp blue oceans of Earth, to the barren, pockmarked white rock of the planet’s lone moon.

“If this is the closest I ever get to Earth, I’m going to be rather vexed,” Max said matter-of-factly.

We’d received landing coordinate for a base on the dark side of Luna.

“At least it’s not a nuclear wasteland,” Vee answered. Earlier, we’d passed the former colony of Mars, which had in fact been a nuclear wasteland. However, it did appear that rebuilding efforts had been underway for some time.

“Yeah, maybe our prison cells with have a window view,” Adan answered. No one laughed.

As we started our approach on the moon’s “dark” side, we found the pale surface dotted with domed, lush cities and irregularly-shaped manufacturing facilities. This side of the moon isn’t actually dark, it just never faces the Earth. Luna is tidally locked to Earth, and because of this it doesn’t rotate. The Earth-facing side appeared to be structure free, and I assumed this was to maintain the satellite’s natural view from the planet’s surface.

“Redirect to 59.032 latitude, 37.212 longitude,” The voice over the com said. “Do not deviate from those coordinates or you will be fired upon.”

We veered away from the green globes towards a grey blob of runways and irregularly shaped buildings at the northern pole.

“If that doesn’t just scream military installation,” Maxine murmured.

“What gave it away?” I asked facetiously. “The lack of plant life or all the unshielded weapons platforms?”

A blue haze glowed where the dome of the base went insubstantial. It allowed us to pass through on our end, while keeping the interior atmosphere from escaping. It reminded me of a semipermeable membrane inside a living cell. I mentally filed the idea away for future study.

I watched mass throwers and plasma cannons track our ship as we passed through the access port. A couple ships came through after us, but the rest gunned their thrusters and broke orbit. Red lights lit a rectangular section of ground below us, and Max set the ship down right on top of it. Before she could even power down the engines, I heard a dull metallic clang, and the ship shook slightly.

“We’ve been locked down,” I said.

“Not exactly the trusting sort,” Adan said.

There was probably some banter after that, but I was internally occupied.

“What would you like me to do with the key Arthur?” Merlin asked. He was in his usual blue robes and pointy cap.

“It needs to be where no one can ever replace it,” I said. This last part was hard though. “If anyone tries to take it by force, you need to destroy it,” I drew my sword and handed it to him, “as well as this.”

He looked at me like I was cracked. “Arthur, if I do this, there’s no going back.”

“She’s all up here,” I said, tapping my head. “I can build her again.”

“But this will kill the Jester as well.”

I pointed to my heart. “He’s already in here.”

“Very well sire. The Lady of the Lake will keep the items secure.” Then Merlin nodded his head and vanished.

I opened my eyes just as the ship’s power went out and the backup lights flicked on.

“Uh, Galen?” Adan said.

“Yeah, that was me,” I answered. “I quantum encrypted the ships systems. What’s in this ship is our only bargaining chip.”

“Just don’t do anything you can’t undo,” Vee said. I nodded. She’d eschewed her usual Japanese street fashion for her official Navy teals. The color brought out her eyes.

“Doing rash things is more of my brand,” Adan said while slipping on his Duster.

“Speaking of,” I said, “why don’t you leave the pistol behind.”

“What? The gun makes the outfit” Adan said.

“He’s right lover,” Max cooed, as she slid up beside him. “Besides, I think they’ll know you’re a sexy cowboy without the gun.” She removed the gun from his holster and traded it for a kiss on the cheek.

“Is that what you’re dressed as?” Vee asked. “I get more of a homeless beggar sort-of vibe.”

Adan’s mouth dropped open, and Max snickered. Before Adan could defend his own wounded honor, I said, “Let’s go before they cut their own door with welding torches and drag us out.”

Adan popped opened the hatch and sunlight filled the cabin. Outside the ship, the sun felt warm, and the skies were crystal blue thanks to the filtering technology in the bubble around the base. The filtered air smelled like a sterile lab though, and there wasn’t a hint of a breeze. As we debarked, Poochy made to follow.

“Damnit Poochy,” Adan said, blocking the dog’s way. “You have to stay here.”

Poochy tipped his head to the side and whined. His sad eyes stayed on Adan until the door sealed shut.

The lone building was a massive complex made out of stacks of square and rectangular blocks, with corners that jutted out at uneven angles. After we didn’t move for a few seconds, the floor lit under us, charting a path from our ship to what appeared to be the front entrance of the base. Standing between us the building were a pair of mechs roughly three stories tall. They made the heavy power armor that Russell had worn the last time we saw him look like a child’s toy. The ground shook slightly as the two-legged walking tanks moved to either side, allowing us to pass.

“Wow, that’s a bit overkill for little-old us,” Max said.

“I’m not feeling particularly welcome,” Adan added.

“Come on people,” Vee said, looking official in her military garb. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said, and was rewarded with a slap on my butt.

The mechs were a moon-based camouflage pattern of grey-on-white. Their hands had fingers to grasp, and massive Gatling guns mounted on each wrist. The cockpit windows were smoked, but I still knew the pilots were watching us closely, because I could see the guns tracking our movement. As we passed between the two sentinels I did a sweep of their security, and almost instantly felt a slight stab of pain in my head. I lost my balance and almost went down as red warnings flashed in my HUD.

“You ok Tiger?” Vee asked as she steadied me with a hand under my arm.

“Their tech is out of my league,” I answered through a clenched jaw. “Hacking their systems isn’t an option.” I rubbed my temples and tried to ignore Merlin’s sharp admonishments in my ear.

Ten meters before we reached the plassteel stairwell that led to the building’s entrance, the blast-doors slid open and four armed guards in camouflaged power armor stepped out of the doorway. Their suits were made from a flexible mesh material, rather than the bulky alloy I was used to seeing on soldiers and Gladiator Challenge participants. They looked sleek and deadly.

I was having trouble deciding whether Julian or Miles or Frank or maybe René would calm my nerves better, but after seeing the ugly black scattergun in the lead guard’s hands, my hardware or limbic system or a combination of the two decided for me.

’I can’t believe how much I hate,

Pressures of a new place come my way,’

I didn’t recognize the song, and my HUD wasn’t really telling me much any longer.

“Are you carrying any weapons,” a male guard said through an amplified speaker in his opaque helmet.

’Jumpsuit, jumpsuit cover me,

Jumpsuit, jumpsuit cover me,’

“A rapier wit,” Adan said. “Oh, and the blue girl could kick all of y’alls asses with her bare hands. She’s a space ninja.”

“Take us to your leader Earth-man,” Vee said to the soldier. I laughed so quickly that I snorted. The guy looked at his partners and then back at us. “Seriously trooper, let’s get on with this. Bring us to the dungeon so we can be interrogated or tortured or whatever.”

The guards all looked at each other, then the chatty guard unfrosted his faceplate. He had dark skin and looked about twelve. “The interrogation room is in the basement, but it’s not a dungeon. We painted it yellow and added a few potted plants to brighten it up. I think it looks rather nice.” He looked at his friends for confirmation and they all nodded. “And the only torture involved is having to answer questions from Lieutenant Jenkins. He’s kind of a dick.” There was another round of confirming nods.

Another guard unfrosted her visor. She was light skinned with freckles on her nose and cheeks. She might have just barely been my age. “I punched him in the face once after he yelled at me about something stupid. He threw me in the brig for a week.” She got a far-away look in her eye and said, “It was totally worth it though. Are you really a ninja?”

“More of a ronin at this point,” Vee answered.

“That’s so cool,” freckles said. “Maybe you could punch Jenkins in the face?”

“That would be bodacious,” the lead guard said.

The other two guards nodded. One gave a double thumbs up. By this point the music in my head had stopped. I was having trouble being afraid of a bunch of kids playing dress up. I looked over a Max, and one her eyebrows was arched so high that I thought it might become detached.

“Shit,” the lead guard said, and his visor went opaque. “Jenkins wants them downstairs on the double.

...

My captors let me stew for awhile, alone in the yellow room. The houseplant on the table looked like it had once been green, but it was now mostly yellow, with bits of brown on the edges. I got bored and tried to access my music library, but all I could replace on my server was karaoke versions of top forty hits from the a style called New Wave.

The room was a cement box painted a patchy yellow everywhere but the ceiling and floor, and other than the unloved plant, the room had a rectangular chrome table and matching chairs, and a big mirror on the wall that I figured was one-way glass. A minute after I started pounding on the window someone finally arrived.

The man that entered through the door appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He was tall and had a frame that fell somewhere between gangly and athletic. He was carrying a datapad, which he powered up and placed down on the tabletop when he sat. He was light-skinned with blond, wavy hair and wore a blue suit tailored in an unfamiliar style. The collar was folded in a peculiar way, and the shirt was worn without a tie. It stood to reason that fashions would have changed considerably since the war started. A lot of things were bound to have changed. All of a sudden, I was really interested in all of the music I’d missed out on.

The man just sat there frowning and studying me, so I stared and studied him right back. Perfect skin – no pock marks, microscopic pores, no age lines around the eyes or lips. His fair hair was neatly trimmed, and his face showed no stubble. He wasn’t just clean shaven though… it was more like a woman’s face with no shadow at all. He almost looked like a life-sized doll that someone had molded out of synthetic materials. Oh, and he had the puffy beginnings of bruise under his left eye.

Finally, I got tired of the man staring at me and said, “Well, this has been a lovely reception all around. I’m so glad we risked our lives trying to get here.”

Adan has told me many times that I am far too blunt, and somewhat passive-aggressive. All right, he didn’t say somewhat. Anyway, the frowning-man frowned deeper, but finally spoke.

“I understand we would all be better off if you hadn’t taken that risk.” Touché. He continued,” You’re Galen Castell, correct?” I nodded. “My name is Lieutenant Jenkins.” He studied his datapad for a moment, and then looked up at me. “Am I correct in my understanding that after a century of careful planning and flawless execution by the Confederation Council, you and your little band of do-gooders have led the Salarians right to us?”

Ouch. It sounded really bad when put that way. “Yeah, well, we screwed up – more to the point we were double-crossed.” I stopped and took a deep breath. The excuses didn’t matter. “But we want to help in any way we can. I have some technology that I think would help-”

He waved his had dismissively, “We have cloaking technology already.”

I assumed he meant my ’Wrapper®, though I didn’t know how he knew about it.

“No, I’ve developed a point-to-point wormhole generator and I’m willing to help your scientists-”

“Yeah, I’ve already heard that one from the other three. Our chief science advisor has assured me that this machine of yours is a fairytale.”

I was getting really tired of Jenkins’ interrupting, and I snapped back, “Well, it’s not my problem if your science guy’s an idiot.” That really wasn’t fair since the scientific consensus backed his claim, but still. “I know you scan the area outside the Kuiper belt – you’ve probably got probes embedded in half the rocks out there. How do you explain us just popping into existence?”

He practiced his frown some more before answering. Finally, he said, “I admit you have a good cloaking device, but it’s nothing more than that.”

“Look at your data again. You’ll replace evidence of a spacetime disturbance that’s much different from what an A-Drive will leave behind.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off this time, “And don’t give me any nonsense about quantum foam instability, because we both know that isn’t the case.”

He held a finger to his ear and listened. Someone was feeding him questions. He tapped his finger on the table a few times and sighed. “Natural Wormholes are held open by the Casimir Effect-”

“Wrong. The Casimir Effect can’t violate the averaged null energy condition in a neighborhood of space with zero curvature or one with curved spacetime – modern physicists have interpreted the results of the semi-classical gravity calculations in ways that they never should have been. That’s why the experiments always failed. Granted, the Casimir stabilizers do enhance the predictability of the wormholes, but they don’t actually hold them open.”

The commander looked at me like I was speaking another language. I guess I sort of was, so I attempted to take the nerd-talk down a notch. “It wasn’t until I read some research by a 20th century scientist named Visser that I got the idea of using exotic matter to hold the portal open. See, it’s negative-mass cosmic strings that hold a natural wormhole open, not quantum effects. In my generator I use tachyons instead, because, obviously, cosmic strings were formed during the big bang and can’t be fabricated in a lab.”

The Commander’s jaw was slack, and he was squinting at me. I was a little afraid I had broken him.

“Listen,” I said. “There may be a simpler way of explaining this to you, but I don’t know what it is. Let’s stop playing this game of telephone and instead, let me talk to the geeks directly.”

Jenkins sat for a few moments starring into space. Then his orders must have changed, because he just got up and walked out. He didn’t even say goodbye. It almost hurt my feelings. A few moments later, I got the peculiar tickle in my ear that I have come to associate with hacking attempts. I shifted my attention internally and found myself standing on my usual perch on Camelot’s tallest tower. What I saw from my view was disconcerting to say the least.

First of all, my castle was a wreck. One tower was completely collapsed, and the perimeter walls were all in various stages of disrepair. Little pockets of fire had broken out here and there in the thatched roofs and wood frames of the support structures. I knew that virus had done a number on my ’Seven, but I didn’t know it had left me this open to attack.

Oh, and on top of that, there was an army pouring in over my walls and attacking the populace. People were streaming and running in all directions. Lancelot stood to my right. His sword was broken, and his left arm hung in a bloody sling. He wore no helmet, and his face was sweaty and smeared with soot and blood.

“What the hell, Lance?” I asked him.

“M’lord,” he answered with a nod. “Our defenses have failed. The palace will be breached within moments.”

“Merlin!” I yelled. He appeared next to me in a tank top and swimming trunks. He had a wide-brimmed sun hat on his head, sandals on his feet and was holding a battered suitcase. His nose was zinc-white. I sighed. “Bermuda?”

“I’m certainly not staying here Arthur,” he answered.

“Fry it all first,” I ordered.

A long sigh. “Very well sire,” he said. Merlin dropped his suitcase and started waving his arms overhead, and then my perspective swam, and I was back in the interrogation room.

I smelled the smoke before I saw the first wisp waft past my peripheral vision. It was probably coming from my right ear. I looked at the mirror, gave whoever was watching a choice hand gesture and yelled, “Is that all you got?”

Apparently, it was.