The Forgotten Planet

Ash took one last look at the baseball card before closing up the case and tucking it away in his breast pocket. He gestured with his prominent chin in the direction of the shops across the street before sitting back in his chair. “Milton Blane, the namesake of Milton’s Curiosities, has a showroom filled with fine, legal, collectables offered at inflated price to the general public. But the good stuff he keeps in the back room, and those items get auctioned off to various private collectors.”

Milton’s Curiosities was well known to those of us in the illicit-trade business. It was an open secret that Milton was a fence, but we’d never had any direct dealings with the man due to his connection to the local mafia. That and the fact that there was no need to use his services since we found Ash early on, and he’d paid fairly and kept us busy.

The outside of Milton’s business was the same nondescript tan stucco as all the other neighboring one-story buildings. Milton’s had a few frosted-glass windows in the front, and the sign above the door spelled out the name of the establishment in red neon letters. There always seemed to be a short in the sign though, and today all the t’s were dark.

Ash continued, “Unfortunately, I don’t get invited to Milton’s underground shindigs anymore.”

“Didn’t that have something to do with the man’s daughter and a zero-gravity exercise chamber?” Adan asked.

“I hear she’s barely out of school,” I added.

“Unsubstantiated rumors,” he replied in an unconvincing tone. We all knew the rumors were true, and he knew that we knew. Adan and I gave each other a knowing look. “Anyhoo, Milton got his hands on an old Colt-45 cowboy pistol that’s going up for sale tomorrow morning.”

“You want us to acquire a handgun?” Adan asked incredulously. “That’s a first.”

Ash smiled. “Well, this is for something special baby.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “See, I have this lady-friend who’s into cosplay. I’ve got a duster and a Stetson – boots and spurs as well. The plan is to dress up in all the duds-”

I jumped in as quickly as I could. I’d sat through enough of Ash’s long-winded and extremely graphic sexcapade stories to know where this yarn was headed.

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” I pleaded. Both Adan and Ash looked at me disappointedly. I immediately felt guilty and tried to spin it. “I love your stories Ash – really I do – we just have a lot of planning to do if we’re going to pull off this job tonight.”

He accepted my lie and moved on. “Your loss. By the way, a little birdie told me Milton’s got some banned books in that safe of his that you might be interested in. Consider them a going away present.”

A present that I had to steal for myself, but anyway…

Ash continued, “So, where are you boys off to?”

“Xanthus most likely,” I answered. “They’re too far from the galactic core for the Lizards to enforce the tech ban.”

“We figure Galen can make us a fortune selling gadgets,” Adan added. Adan leaned back in his chair and put his feet back up on the table. “Then I can experience the carefree lifestyle I was born to live.”

I couldn’t see how that was any different than the way he lived currently, but whatever.

“You’re aware there’s no commercial travel to the Xanthus system, right?” Ash asked.

“After this last job we should have enough credits for a Pintera,” Adan said.

“Ah, the economy vehicle of the cosmos,” Ash retorted. “I suppose it’ll get to Xanthus… eventually. That is, if the engine doesn’t catch fire.”

The Pintera wasn’t known for its looks, or speed, or comfort. Okay, it’s basically a barely space-worthy piece of junk… but it was also the only vessel with an A-Drive that we could afford.

Ash frowned and asked, “Does that mean you’ve given up on Martel?”

I looked at Adan, whose body had suddenly gone ridged, but he wouldn’t meet my eye. “I’m sorry,” Ash said, feeling the sea change. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

This topic had become a sore subject between Adan and me. We’d lost the man’s trail two years prior and it had been ice cold ever since. I’d tried hard to pick it back up – I had the same desire to avenge our father’s death as Adan – but over the years I’d run out of leads and been forced to give up the chase. The man was in the wind at this point. Adan still had hope of tracking him down, and he saw my refusal to burn any more time and resources on the matter as a betrayal of our deceased father.

“He left the planet years ago, and we don’t have any leads. But...” And since Adan was already pissed at me, I figured I might as well spring this on him now too. “we’re going to swing by the Sol System first to see if we can find anything of value.” Adan almost spit out his coffee.

“Galen, we’re not going on some stupid treasure hunt,” my brother said with argument-ending firmness.

It was certainly possible we could find an intact satellite or the wreckage of a starship that I could reverse-engineer into something fabulous, but the real reason I wanted to find Earth was more heart than head. I wanted to stand on the soil my ancestors had bled and died on and look up at the star that birthed my atoms.

I continued, unabated. “You wouldn’t happen to know where we could find a star map with the coordinates to Earth? Maybe some connected antique collector? I haven’t had any luck, and Adan hasn’t been any help.” And the truth was, I’d looked everywhere – the Depository, public and private databases, online auctions and every hole-in-the-wall junk-store that I came across.

“I haven’t helped because we’re not going,” Adan added. I did notice by his degree of facial redness and eye-squinting that his anger had cooled to mere irritation.

“Be honest,” I said. “You wouldn’t have helped even if you did want to go.”

He couldn’t disagree with that, so he just shrugged and grunted.

“That’s the funny thing, Galen,” Ash replied. “No one really knows where Earth is located – not even the Salarians, from what I’ve heard from my, uh, interactions with Vox beauty I met a few years back.” I gave him a few beats of staring into space with that goofy look on his face before I cleared my throat. He scrunched up his face and said, “What were we talking about again.”

“Maps,” I answered.

“Right, Earth,” he answered before draining his first glass. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and continued,” Every map from that era, digital or otherwise, seems to have been lost or destroyed.”

“Obviously I’ve heard that, but how can that actually be true?” I asked, refilling Ash’s glass with liquid lubrication. “Earth was one of the major powers in the quadrant before the Great War. Our people controlled more than fifty star systems, including this one. How can there possibly be no record of where Earth is located?”

“I know that at the tail end of the war a nasty virus tore through the galaxies major data stores, including the Galactic Depository,” Ash said, before pausing to gulp some more beer. “I seem to remember that you have key to the GD. If you ever want to sell it…”

If it was anyone else, I would have laughed in their face, but it was Ash, so I just shook my head no. I’d discovered the key during a simple data-mining job in Hileah a few years back. Having a key to the collective knowledge of the Great Races carried a death sentence on Palance, but since almost everything I did for work and leisure was illegal in one way or another, I didn’t let this additional infraction worry me any.

Ash took the rejection in stride. “Well, I had to ask. Anyway, the prevailing theory is that the bug was part of Earth’s death rattle.”

I’d heard that rumor as well, and it made sense to a point. Still, it was hard to believe that Earth could have released a digital plague so pervasive and that it was able to erase or destroy every map in the entire galaxy – including the paper ones. And why even bother?

“And no one’s found the system in all this time?” Adan asked rhetorically.

“There are over a billion stars in this galaxy alone,” I replied, in an attempt to head of a pervasive crackpot theory. “Stumbling across one particular system would be a miracle.”

“Well, there’s that,” Ash admitted. “Also, Earth was nuked until it was a hot, glowing ball of death, so there’s no economic or military value in locating it.”

“Ash, baby, we swim in the same circles,” Adan said. “I know you’ve heard the same stories as I have.”

“Sure, everyone knows a guy that knows a guy,” Ash answered, “that supposedly disappeared looking for Earth...”

Adan popped his feet off the table slammed his empty mug on the table so hard that the elderly couple stopped their conversation and glared at us. “See, Galen!”

After mouthing a sorry to the seniors, I said, “Oh, here we go,” adding a sigh for good measure. I knew what was going to come next, but I wasn’t going to give him an easy opening. Instead, I waited him out while I sipped my coffee.

“There’s a difference between a good story and a true story, slick,” Ash said.

If that isn’t irony, I don’t know what is.

Adan sighed theatrically. “Stop being dense you two. Missing maps, missing pilots.” He looked back and forth between two blank faces, searching in vain for validation. “There’s obviously a conspiracy of some sort to keep Earth from being found.”

“There it is,” I said.

“Someone’s actively trying to keep Earth hidden,” Adan continued. “What other possible explanation could there be?”

I love it when he asks me dumb questions, so I leaned in and said, “Uh, let’s see. Pirates.”

Ash added, “Salarian patrols.” Our cold-blooded overlords. The Salarian military severely limit inter-system travel to “Empire business.” Treasure hunting in a black-market pleasure-craft wouldn’t fall under that terms definition, no matter how l loosely you defined it.

My turn. “Servine bounty hunters.” It wasn’t bad enough that the Servine had destroyed our world. They were also the best trackers money could buy.

“Navigational errors.” Ash.

“Solar flares.” Me.

“Black holes.” Ash.

Adan’s head bounced back and forth between Ash and me as if he was following the ball in a Ping-Pong match. Also, his left eye had the beginnings of a twitch. Score.

“Whatever.” Adan waved his hand dismissively at us. “What’s Milton got for security anyway? Laser grids? Killer robots? Guard dogs?”

“This is what it takes to get you interested in job planning?” I asked. That earned me a glare.

“Guard dogs? Does anyone still do that?” Ash asked.

“You’d be surprised,” I answered.

“If you say so, big G,” Ash said in a voice that implied he wasn’t convinced. “I know for a fact that Milton doesn’t have a dog. And I know the safe’s a Titan IV. Is that a problem?”

“Nope, I’ve got an algorithm.” The Titan IV safe’s rescue code – which was originally written by the manufacturer’s white hats in case the owner forgot his code and had to contact the company to open it – is an ever-changing pattern of seemingly random numbers, and I’d figured out the formula the numbers were based on while daydreaming one morning over breakfast.

“Fantastic.” Ash drained his mug and poured himself a third. “I don’t know what else he’s got in the way of security, but I do have a key to the back door.” He produced a keycard from his pocket and slid it across the table.

“How’d you get that?” I asked.

Ash saved his biggest smile for last. “Let’s just say somebody’s not happy with her daddy’s draconian dating policies.”

Chapter 5 – The Calm Before the Storm (Not a Real Storm – This is a Metaphor)

“Dude, can you please turn that crap down,” I asked Adan for the third time. “I can’t think straight with that depressed cowboy and his twangy guitar burrowing a hole in my skull.”

He turned the knob on the old laser-reader a millimeter to the left. It barely helped. I was finishing my second cup of coffee at the kitchen table and double-checking my algorithm for the Titan IV safe on an internally scrolling screen on my HUD while Adan chomped away on his third bowl of cereal. The numbers floated like dust particles on the left anterior edge of my visual field, right above the text of Helmut Triumphant. Multitasking was as natural to me as breathing.

Our kitchen was the definition of utilitarian design. The floors were grey concrete, and the cabinets, appliances, and countertops slightly varied and unmatched shades of grey plassteel. It was nothing to look at, but it would survive basically anything short of a thermonuclear explosion. Adan had kitschified the place with a bunch of odd knick-knacks like porcelain cows and ancient beer mugs with strange lids. A red and white tin sign showing white bear drinking a brown liquid beverage out of a clear bottle was definitely the strangest. The ancient products name was in a strange cursive script that meant nothing to me.

“What do you need to think about?” he asked with his mouth half full. “We have a key to the back door and you have the code or whatever for the stupid safe. We just walk in, fill our arms up with goodies, and walk out.”

“You do know why our plans usually go so smoothly, right?” I meant this to be a rhetorical question, but apparently, I wasn’t clear.

“Yeah, because I think fast on my feet,” he replied. I sighed and shook my head. “Whatever.” He took another huge bite before asking, “You know, the planning would probably be a whole lot easier if you used some of my ideas.” My ’Seven worked overtime to decode this over all the chewing. “You know the saying; two heads are better than one in a bush.”

I chose to interpret the spirit of that statement. “Sure, if me and Einstein were working together,” I said, “but you sir, are no Einstein.”

“Is that the bagel guy?” Adan asked.

I sighed again and rubbed at my face. “Fine, what are your ideas?” I regretted asking the moment the words left my lips.

Adan clapped his hands and said, “Now we’re talking. Ok little brother, what if we cut a hole in the roof and dropped through on a grapple?”

I opened my mouth a few times, but nothing came out. Finally, I cleared my throat and said, “But we have a key to the back door.”

“Right, I hear you,” Adan answered, not realizing he should be embarrassed. “I’m just spit-balling here. It’d be chill though, right? Maybe throw in some smoke and a few laser-lights...”

“Yeah, chill,” I replied dully.

“We’ll save that one for later,” Aidan said. I tapped my head to let him know I wouldn’t forget. “Here’s one. What if we train Poochy to take out security bots?”

Poochy looked up from under Adan’s chair. He was making a killing down there on loose Crunchy Flakes.

“Shouldn’t you teach him to defecate outside first,” I asked. I pointed to the corner of the kitchen where he’d left his newest pile and added, “His previous owner seems to have neglected that aspect of canine ownership.”

“Dammit Poochy!” Adan yelled. “Bad dog!”

Now, I’m no expert on dog psychology, but Poochy didn’t look any more embarrassed than Adan had moments earlier.

“I got the last one,” Adan whined. I pursed my lips and shrugged. “He’s a family dog.” I shook my head no. Adan pushed his bowl away and mumbled, “Dammit Poochy,” as he stood.

“Cleaning supplies are under the sink,” I added.

He frowned. “Yeah, I know where the cleaning supplies are Galen. I just put them away an hour ago.”

The smile I gave him was meant to be condescending. It’s probably why he gave me the finger. We’d found Poochy’s first present when we got back from Rosco’s, and I’d made Adan clean it up before I passed out the fish-and-chips. This was the real fish and tuber versions too, not the processed starch and pressed green protein – of which I’m 92% sure is recycled people and green dye #12 – that we usually choked down. The dog must’ve stolen half of Adan’s fish when bro got up for a drink refill. Which probably explained his overactive canine bowels.

The second Adan left his seat, Poochy stuck his paws up on the table and started slurping the leftover milk out of Adan’s bowl.

“Uh, Adan...”

“What now?” Adan asked sullenly. He pulled his head out of the cabinet and looked over at his new best friend. “Dammit Poochy, no!” Poochy didn’t stop until Adan pushed the bowl to the middle of the table, and even then the dog’s tongue continued to lick as he craned his neck towards the just-out-of-reach bowl.

I sat and watched in fascination as his tongue continued to flick in and out at the invisible milk particles suspended in the air while Adan finished his janitorial duties. When he returned to his seat, Adan pushed the dog’s front paws off the table and sat back down. He grabbed the half-empty bag of Crunchy-Flakes and poured a bowls-worth on the floor, which sent Poochy into a more productive licking frenzy. Thankfully polished concrete is easy to clean. After that, Adan topped-off his own bowl and added a splash of milk.

I stared dumbfounded as he took his first bite. “You’re still going to eat that?” I asked.

The look he gave me was pure bewilderment. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” All I could do is shake my head. “Little brother,” Adan started, once his mouth was once again good and full, “why haven’t you ever designed a freeze gun?”

At that point I flicked-off my internal feeds. I obviously wasn’t going to get any more work done. Besides, the algorithm was perfect, as was the map I’d made of Milton’s security features. I’d done that last bit for fun a few months back when I hacked Milt’s system from a table at Rosco’s on a nice sunny day while Adan flirted with one of his many female conquests. The problem is, I’m just never satisfied unless I’ve triple checked everything, and even then, the feeling that I’ve missed something never completely goes away. The idea of relying on Adan “thinking on his feet” absolutely gives me chills.

“Why exactly would I design a freeze gun?” I asked carefully.

“Because it would be straight fire, bro,” Adan replied. A lot of times he gives me a look like I’m missing something completely obvious. He was giving me that look now. “Like, we could freeze the vault solid, and I could smash it with a hammer.”

“But I have an algorithm that-”

He held up his hands. “Yeah, I know brozilla, but if you didn’t...”

“That would be chill...” I replied without enthusiasm. It was expected.

“Exactly,” he said, touching a finger to his nose. Then he just stared at me.

“Oh, you actually want me to make one?” I asked. The crazy look again. “It’s not really practical.”

“Neither is Betty, but you keep working on her,” he replied.

“That’s totally not the same thing,” I replied, perhaps a little defensively. Betty, working or not, was my pride and joy. “Betty could revolutionize space travel.”

“Yeah, whatever. All Betty does is suck funds out of our bank account,” Adan said. I pretended to look shocked. He grinned and said, “Yeah, I know how to use our Wabash and Lake account.” That was the fund he though contained our entire life savings. In actuality it was less than ten percent of our liquid assets. I wasn’t about to see our travel fund whittled away on silk shirts, drinks at bars and coconut hair gel. Plus, if he knew how much I really spent on Betty, he’d probably strangle me.

I could see by the glint in his ice blue eyes that I was going to have to explain myself. “Well, we – meaning you – would have to lug tanks of xenon or carbon dioxide around for one.”

“Why can’t you just freeze the air?” he asked.

“You’d need a massive energy source to draw the ambient heat out of the room,” I explained. He nodded like that was exactly the way he would do it. “Do you have a fusion reactor in your pocket, because I sure don’t?”

He raised his eyebrows and said, “I do actually. If you did too, you’d probably get a few more dates.”

I almost laughed. I date... occasionally. The problem I have with girls is the same problem I have with Adan. After a while the ones that bother to get to know me begin to look at me like I’m crazy. I think there’s basic human interaction cues that I tend to miss… or possibly trample. On the flip side, I can do Calculus in my head long before I got my adult teeth. I think it’s a fair tradeoff.

The other issue was the machine in my workshop that had a girl’s name and who’s inner workings dominated most of my free time. I’m sure that factor set off internal alarms in the minds of possible suitors.

“Bro, you look tired,” Adan said. “Why don’t you get a few hours’ sleep?”

I’d been letting my ’Seven juice my adrenal glands for too many days in a row. I needed real sleep

“Can I count on you to pack our gear?” I asked. Here’s the thing. If you really have to ask this question, then deep down you already know the answer.

“Bro, please,” Adan replied. “I’ve got this.”

I sighed. “Ok, fine. But make sure to charge your equipment.” This was a task that I assumed even a monkey could accomplish. Unfortunately, everyone knows what happens when one makes assumptions.