The Forgotten Planet

“Oh baby,” Ash said, rubbing the silk kimono against his stubbly cheek, “my girl is going to like the feel of this material against her skin.”

I tried my hardest to keep my shudder internal. “That’s great Ash,” I answered in a neutral monotone. I pushed the bulky duffel across the outdoor table at Rosco’s and added, “There’s also a sword of some sort in the bag, along with a biker outfit and some, uh, other accessories.” I didn’t know exactly what the accessories were, and I didn’t want to know. The wide-eyed look on Ash’s face when he rummaged through the open bag was confirmation of that. “And again, I’m sorry about the gun.”

Ash wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put down his empty mug. He looked at the mug longingly and frowned before answering, “Eh, it’s nothing kid,” Ash said waving a dismissive hand in my direction. “This more than covers the gun. Where’s Adan, by the way.”

“We had a… mild electrical problem back at the flat that he’s fixing at this moment,” I said. “But he wanted to meet you for drinks tonight if you have time.”

“Absolutely,” Ash said. “That boy knows how to party. I’ll be at Darksides tonight, or Pink Donkey, or maybe in Slice to watch The Spicy Buttholes play.” He scratched his scruffy chin and added, “You may just want to have him text me.”

“You got it,” I said. I stood and stuck out my hand to shake, “Well, I guess this is it then.” I try to avoid shaking hands when a nod will do. I’m not exactly touchy-feely, but this was one of those cases where I would make an exception. He surprised me by grabbing my hand and pulling me in for a bear hug. I patted him on the back a few times until he finally let go.

On the bullet-tram back to the post-industrial section of Oasis that I called home, I skimmed one of the ancient books I’d borrowed that morning from Uncle Milton’s Lending Library – Lorentzian Wormholes, from Einstein to Hawking – determined to scrounge-up some new fact or novel idea about wormhole travel. I’d long since exhausted every search parameter I could think of when it came to navigating that cloud-based body of combined knowledge of the Great Races that is the Galactic Depository. More recently I’d spent my free time looking through old fashioned paper books for ancient pearls of wisdom. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to find anything useful, but this time I was pleasantly surprised.

When I got back to the flat, Adan was busy replacing fuses in junction box in the wall next to where he’d piled all his welding equipment. The look I got when crossed the threshold wasn’t a friendly one.

“I am not going to be happy with you if I miss the title fight with Killer Kahn,” Adan said.

I guess it was too much to hope that Adan would be as excited about my earlier success as I was. As I crossed the room to where my star-comparison program was running, I told him something I thought would cheer him up. “Well, at least we didn’t generate any naked singularities.”

He looked over at me and narrowed his eyes. “What is that exactly?”

“A black hole,” I answered. I checked the screen and saw that 26% of the galaxy had been scanned with no matches. I was a little disappointed, but considering the galaxy spanned billions of star systems, there was really no reason to expect super-fast results.

“You could have created a black hole?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It was a small, non-zero chance,” I answered carefully. This was supposed to be good news. I personally thought the risks were worth the reward, but it’s possible I took the temperature of the room wrong. “Maybe I can clear things like that with you in the future?”

“Just assume that if the death of the planet is possible, the answer is no,” he answered. I nodded thoughtfully without meaning it as a confirmation. I’ve found that it’s far easier to ask for forgiveness that to get permission. The look he gave me before getting back to work seemed to imply that he didn’t believe me. Since I was actually attempting to be deceitful, I decided not to take it personally.

Because I had no peers to discuss my new knowledge with – you don’t find a lot of intellectual dilettantes among the criminal underworld – I used Adan as my sounding board quite frequently. Since I’d gotten the apology out of the way, it seemed like as fine a time as any to discuss what I’d found in Milton’s book.

“You know, ancient Earth scientists had some interesting ideas about creating wormholes,” I started cautiously.

“You don’t say?” I noted that his voice sounded indifferent but his spirit... well no, his spirit was indifferent too. Still, I pressed on.

“Yeah,” I continued, “and they had the idea of holding the portal open with a shell of exotic matter.” I stepped away from my workstation and walked a look around Betty. She had some new scorch marks, but otherwise looked no worse-for-wear. Still, I’d have to run diagnostics later to be sure.

“I’ve never seen any mention of that in the Depository,” I continued. “Casmir Stabilizers work great with natural wormholes, but my version doesn’t seem to have the juevos to hold-open a man-made portal.” I didn’t have the luxury of building a stabilizer the size of a small moon that was powered by ten separate fusion reactors.

“Fascinating!” Adan answered, not sounding the least bit fascinated. “Are you going to help me with this?” He nodded towards the vid screen, which was still smoking from the earlier power surge. “Killer Khan is scheduled to fight next.”

“No, I think I’ll pass,” I added. “I need to start packing up my equipment – which you need to do as well, slacker.” I caught a motion out of the corner of my eye and added, “Oh, Poochy is eating your blue shoe by the way.”

He followed my eyes to the kitchen, where Poochy appeared to be really enjoying the shoe. He had the footwear firmly clenched between his jaws and was shaking it in the air while prancing around in circles.

“Dammit Poochy!” Adan yelled. “Drop that!” Adan got up to retrieve his shoe, but Poochy took flight with his prize and hid in the shop behind the Gazelle.

While Poochy and Adan played a fun game of keep-away throughout the lower level, I decided to run some calculations. Of course, everything’s better with music, so I got the disc spinning again and placed the needle into the groove I had put to memory. A raspy voice and an ancient form of jazz piano spoke to us from centuries past. I closed my eyes and let the music wash over me. Then my brother ruined the moment.

“Really?” Adan asked. “This one again?” Adan had the dog pinned down in the corner between the kitchen and the outer wall and was inching ever closer to his now-ruined shoe. Then he turned to look at me and said, “I’d rather just listen to the gibberish that comes later.”

The gibberish, as he referred to it, was a steady stream of individuals speaking a greeting in a variety of tongues. It was novel at first, but I certainly didn’t want to listen to it a second time. I’m sure Adan didn’t either, but he was just, well, being Adan. I was happy to see Poochy sneak past him to freedom when Adan let his concentration lapse.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get the chance to enjoy my song, because out of the blue, an explosion rocked the flat. Our front door was blown clean-off its hinges, and I turned my head in time to see the reinforced steel slab skid to a spinning stop a few paces from my workspace. The doorframe and wall remained mostly intact, so it must have been a thin layer of plastique just around the hinges and locking mechanism. Moments later, Russell stepped through the smoking ruins wearing his white power armor and ball cap and rocking that nasty looking plasma rifle. Once inside the threshold, he removed a lit stogie from his mouth and exhaled a cloud of blue smoke as he surveyed the flat. I had to grudgingly admit, the man knew how to make an entrance.

I ducked down behind my lab table and searched the underside cubby for technological options. I sighed as I began to finger the straps of an untested piece of equipment. The chrome-plated power pack was covered with a thick layer of dust and I cursed myself silently for not having at least field-tested the unit sometime in the last six months. What’s worse part is that we had a pretty lit automated defensive system that would have worked great if I hadn’t just fried the building’s power supply with Betty’s mostly successful test.

“Knock, knock,” Russell crooned, his head on a swivel. “Can Adan Castell come out and play?” His heavy boots crunched shattered pieces of door and wall as he stepped farther into the flat. I could see Russell in profile from my vantage point, but he would have had to turn and look down to see me. I watched as Adan, with hands raised high, came out from behind the Gazelle and approached the large, heavily armed man.

“Whoa there big fella,” Adan said in a friendly tone. “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. My name’s Christopher Brown. There’s no Adan here.” He sounded so sincere he almost convinced me, but Russell was having none of it.

“Cut the crap Adan or I’ll just shoot you dead right now.” Russell delivered the line in a neutral tone, but it none-the-less conveyed a great degree of threat. The man held the rifle almost casually in his right hand, and he removed his lit cigar from his lips with his left hand whenever he spoke. For most people, this would be the most stressful situation of their entire lives. I know it was for me. For Russell, I think it was just Tuesday.

At this point, Poochy trotted over in front of Adan, dropped the ruined shoe and growled menacingly at the intruder. The armored man took a puff of his cigar and blew a ring of smoke at the ceiling. For a few tense moments the gangster and my brother just started at each other and weighed options. The jazz song ended and Sitar music began to play in the background.

That’s when Russell decided to fire a shot into the passenger window of the Gazelle. The glass exploded in a shower of glass and noise. The dog barked sharply a few times and Adan blurted out, “All right, fine – don’t get testy.” He added, not quite under his breath, “It’s bad enough I won’t be getting the deposit back on the flat.”

“Why’s that?” Russell asked, cocking an eyebrow. “You planning on leaving town son?”

“Uh, no. No, no... I’m planning on retiring in this beautiful city someday,” Adan stammered.

“Right,” Russell answered. He took another puff from the cigar and continued to look casually menacing. Russell’s craggy features and narrowed eyes added to the effect. I fingered the power to the ’Lectrogun® and held my breath until the red light flickered on, assuring me the gizmo had actually held a charge.

“What do you want anyway?” Adan asked. The congenial tone was long gone.

“Mr. Vance wants his property back, slick,” Russell replied.

Adan scratched his chin and said, “My understanding was that Vance was buying that property, and I’m more than willing to sell it to him.” He looked over to the smoking remains of the entrance to our house. “And I’m billing you for the door.” I couldn’t help smiling. He’s a cocky bastard, my brother.

“Sorry pal, that offers not on the table. But let me make you a different offer.” The rifles barrel adjusted itself slightly. “You give me the disc, and I refrain from decorating the wall with your brain matter.”

“That is a pretty good deal,” he replied in that smart-assy way that only Adan can. “Let me give you my counteroffer.” He paused for effect, then yelled, “Poochy, kill!”

Poochy proceeded to yelp and to run up the stairs with his tail tucked between his legs.

“Dammit Poochy!” Adan yelled after him.

“I guess it’s time to paint,” Russell said with a frown and a resigned tone.

I figured that was my cue. I stood up, shouldering my untested weapon, and said with as calm a voice as I could muster, “There’s not much material in his head to work with.” I shrugged. “And besides, the disc isn’t for sale.”

Russell began to turn, but before he could bring his rifle to bear on me, I’d already pulled the trigger. A blue laser ionized a thin tunnel of air between the tip of the gun and Russell, followed a split-second later by a crooked line of electricity that followed the path of the laser and struck the man in his armored side. All hail the lightning lord. Russell’s hat shot straight off his head, exposing close-cropped and thinning grey hair. His damaged armor crackled, smoked, and then finally died, in a pained groan and a shower of sparks. My gizmo was smoking as well but had otherwise passed its first field-test with flying colors.

I almost jumped out of my skin when Russell started firing his rifle. I knew when I shot him it wouldn’t kill him, but I didn’t expect him to be conscious afterwards. His armor was fried, and it appeared that he couldn’t move his arms or legs, but he could pull the trigger to his gun. Luckily his rifle was only pointed at the Gazelle, which now had a few holes drilled into the passenger door. However, my brother didn’t take the damage to his ride very well.

“YOU BASTARD!” Adan roared, his eyes wide with fury. He ran up to Russell, knocked the rifle from his hands and stuck his ’Buster® onto the man’s dead armor. Then Adan picked up the now-weightless merc and started spinning him in circles overhead – a move I’d seen done countless times on Gladiator Challenge. Russel let loose with an almost-nonstop string of extremely imaginative curse words – though his volume did decrease slightly with each revolution.

“Ok Adan, you got him,” I said after about the fifteenth revolution. “Why don’t you just put him down?”

“Oh, I’ll put him down alright,” Adan answered in a troubling tone. Troubling, because he was obviously angry, and when he’s angry his judgement is even worse than it is at baseline.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Russell groaned.

“You can be sick outside, slick,” Adan answered.

Adan carried Russell through the door, and I watched as he tossed the man high into the air. I ran to the doorway and caught sight of him halfway down the street – just as the ’Buster® ran out of juice. Russell screamed as he came crashing down onto the roof of a neighbor’s vehicle.

“Yeah, that’ll teach ya,” Adan said, brushing his hands together as he walked back towards the flat. Unfortunately, Maxine slipped out from the corner of the building and stepped right behind Adan. She smiled as she pointed a pistol at the back of my brother’s head.

“Uh, Adan...” I started

He saw the look in my eyes, and I barely tracked his movement as he ducked, then spun with blinding speed while swinging his right hand around in an arc that should have either disarmed Maxine or taken her head off. The problem was, she reacted just as quickly as my brother had and was a step out of reach when his hand swung by. Then she stepped back behind him, grabbing his collar with her free hand, while her gun disappeared into the small of Adan’s back.

“Had your nerves juiced, huh?” she asked in a voice that dripped pheromones. “Well, isn’t that a coincidence – so did I. And I’m thinking my guy was a little better than yours. Now, why don’t you put your hands up and tell your brother to drop that ridiculous contraption of his.”

“Do what she says Galen,” Adan said without enthusiasm.

“Forget it. I’ve got a clear shot,” I replied.

Now I’m pretty sure I could have possibly made that shot. At least a third of Maxine’s forehead was showing behind my brother’s shoulder. Plus, the condenser was only smoking a little. I was reasonably sure I could squeeze off another shot before the rig caught fire. Alas, we’ll never know. The look of abject horror on Adan’s face made me lose my nerve.

“Galen!” he said, now with much enthusiasm and with more than a bit of imploring in his facial expression.

“Fine, whatever,” I said as I dropped the gun.

“Why don’t we all go inside and have a nice sit-down on the couch?” Maxine asked sweetly, gesturing with her gun towards the living room. Since it was really more of an order than a request, I did so, but with a sigh and a bit of a slouchy posture. Adan piled in next to me with a sly grin on his face, and he motioned in Maxine’s direction with his eyes. I knew what was going on and I glared at him. He was in love – or at least his lustful version of love. It’s possible he even let her catch him, though I doubted he’d ever admit to that.

“How’d you find us anyway,” I asked Maxine.

She smiled. “My old friend Milton had a full color scan of your brother’s handsome face. Apparently, you weren’t very careful about scanning him for portable recording devices.”

“That stupid button…” I said.

Maxine nodded. I’d seen Milton messing with it and assumed it was just a nervous tick on his part. It must have been an analog camera.

Maxine’s eyes flicked to the stairwell, where Poochy was slinking back down the stairs. The mutt entered the living room and crawled up onto Adan’s lap, and Maxine watched with an amused look on her face as the dog began to aggressively lick Adan’s face.

“Dammit Poochy, leave me alone,” Adan said, as he unsuccessfully tried to move his face out of tongue range.

“You’re a horrible guard dog,” I told him. Poochy didn’t even have the good grace to look guilty.

Just then, Russell came tearing into the flat, sans power armor and with a look on his red face that could have curdled milk. He’d had black pants and a matching T-shirt under the armor, and the clothes were rumpled and sweaty. Even out of the armor, he looked to be a good ten centimeters taller than Adan. Plasma pistol in hand and scowl on face, he scanned the vicinity before taking in the two of us on the couch and the dog on Adan’s lap. He stopped cold as his brain strained to interpret what he saw, and I swear his right eye twitched.

“Russell, dear,” Maxine said soothingly. “I always tell you; finesse is so much better than brute force. But you never do listen.” It seemed to me that her voice was less sultry with Russell than it was with every other male she addressed.

“It really is Russ,” Adan agreed.

“Dude, shut up,” I whispered.

Russell started gesturing in our direction with the gun – which is never a good sign by the way. “I’m going to kill the both of them,” he said with conviction. I certainly believed him. Luckily, Maxine had other ideas.

“Oh, Russell, you’ll do no such thing,” Maxine said as she stepped over to Adan. She ran long, delicate fingers through his thick hair. “Like I told you earlier, I’ve had my eye on these two for some time...” She gave Adan’s hair a slightly more than playful tug, “though maybe not close enough.” Then she crinkled her nose as if she had just gotten a whiff of rotten food. “What is that racket by the way?”

Adan gave me a look that implied the jury was no longer out and that the disc’s soundtrack.

“That’s the culture of your ancestors you’re listening to, sister.” I answered. Even though I didn’t particularly like the piece that was currently playing – which was a cacophony of brass and percussion instruments – I felt like someone had to defend Earth’s honor.

She looked at me blankly for a moment and then asked, “It’s what?”

“That’s the golden disc you’re trying to steal from us,” I explained.

“The one that you yourself stole,” she retorted.

“Yeah, but for noble reasons,” I answered.

“My reasons weren’t that noble,” Adan interjected unnecessarily. I glared at him. “What, I’m just saying...”

“Why are we talking to these clowns?” Russell interrupted. “Let’s just get the disc and get out of here – preferably after shooting them both in their stupid faces.” He was breathing hard, and his color was still up. I had no doubt that Russell would have shot my brother and I, and possibly the dog for good measure, if Maxine hadn’t been there.

“You bribed the authorities, correct?” Maxine asked. Russell nodded in reply. “Then we have plenty of time. The little one has talent, and you,” she looked at Adan, who was practically drooling, “well, I just like your face.”

“The rest of me isn’t bad either,” Adan quipped.

Russell shook his head in disgust. “We don’t need them Max. We’ve always done fine on our own.”

“I think she wants to see other people bro,” Adan chirped, the added to Maxine, “Do you guys want a little privacy? It sounds like he’s not quite getting the break-up message.”

“Can’t you just keep your mouth shut?” Russell asked while gesturing with his gun at Adan’s face. Adan didn’t look the least bit worried, either due to the dopamine rush from Maxine’s touch, or pure and utter stupidity.

“He really can’t, sir,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation. “But just so we’re clear – we’re not going to work for a crime boss.”

“I think working for a crime boss could be fun,” Adan said, not taking his eyes off Maxine.

“Our work arrangement with Mr. Vance could best be described as freelance,” Maxine said. “And besides-”

Just then, a chime sounded in my head, and I stood up abruptly. Two guns pointed directly at me, but my brain was too excited to register fear. The scan of the disc was complete, and the results flashed in front of my HUD.

“Of course,” I said to the room. “They’re pulsating radio stars. I should have seen that myself.”

Everyone looked at me blankly. Awkward.

“On the disc,” I added, but that didn’t help. “Here, I’ll show you,” and I was off the couch and moving towards my workstation before I realized I was still technically a prisoner. I looked back to see the two guns tracking me.

“Can I just shoot him?” Russell asked Maxine.

“No,” came the simultaneous reply from both Adan and Maxine, but Russell’s glare focused coldly on my brother in particular.

Adan smiled at him sweetly, which just increased the depth of the frown lines and the degree of redness on the large and angry man’s face. Then, turning to Maxine, Adan said, “He’s looking for Earth.”

“No, that’s just it Adan,” I said. “I found Earth.”

“Okay, he thinks he found Earth,” he added condescendingly.

“No jackass, I actually found Earth – well sort of. Look!” I plucked the disc off the player and showed them the etching of the map. “It turns out these are rotating neutron stars,” I surveyed my audience and their blank faces and added, “you know, pulsating radio stars.” Still nothing. “Pulsars?” That got head nods. “Okay, so I was able to match the etchings to known pulsars in the galactic charts. The weird thing is there’s no star system where Sol is supposed to be.”

Before the peanut gallery could chime in with their doubts and disparaging remarks, a metallic ball landed in our living room with a small thud, and rolled to a stop in front of Adan and our captors. I looked towards the gaping hole that used to be our front door in time to see a lithe Servine female standing with her hands on her hips and her head cocked to one side. Her blue fur and catlike features were partially obscured by the hooded cloak she wore over a sort of stylized yellow and black biker outfit.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” she asked in a sweet, almost childlike voice while working the controls on her wrister. Before our current captors could swing their guns in her direction, the world was spinning uncontrollably and I was falling.

I hit the ground hard, unable to fight the confused signals my inner ear was receiving. The room was rotating far worse than the end of the night on my sixteenth birthday when Adan brought home a bottle of brown-sugar rum. I heard sounds coming from the room, but I couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. I was too busy trying not to lose my breakfast.

“Vertigo sucks, right? Don’t worry,” the Servine added. “It’ll pass in a few minutes. Ooh, this is fancy.”

She walked over to Betty and ran a hand over her battered hull. I tried to tell the woman to back off, but all that came out was a groan.

“Now, where’s that record?” She looked around a little then said, “Oh, there you are, my precious.” She grabbed the record (now I knew what to call it) and slid it into a black and white satchel that hung over her shoulder. The front of the bag had a cat caricature wearing a pink bow on its head. Not the item a typical thief would choose to store their loot in, but then again, nothing about the day had been typical.

With a massive effort, I lifted my head and followed her with my gaze as she crossed the room and paused at the door. My stomach rolled but I somehow, thankfully, kept its contents contained.

She looked through the doorway at me and smiled. “Well, I’ve gotta run my dudes. No hard feelings I hope?” Then she blew me a kiss and did a little finger-wave and out of nowhere the alternate version of You Only Live Once, the one with just Jules and a piano – a demo version I’d always thought was to slow and never really listened to – kicked on in my internal feed,

’Ten decisions shape your life,

You’ll be aware of five about,’

Russell’s string of obscenities drove the music to the background. The angry giant stumbled to his feet and lumbered towards the woman, but he obviously hadn’t gotten over the effects of the device, and he only made it a few feet before crashing into one of my lab tables and going down hard.

’Seven ways to get ahead,

Seven reasons to drop out.’

The lyrics continued, but by that point my vision started to blur, and I figured it was as good a time as any for a nap. I rested my head on the cool floor and let my heavy eyes slide closed.