Warblegrub and the Forbidden Planet Read online

  Warblegrub

  &

  the Forbidden Planet

  by Andrew Barlow

  FIRST PUBLISHED IN BRITAIN IN 2016 BY

  BEAR WITH ME BOOKS

  COPYRIGHT ©2016 BY BEAR WITH ME BOOKS

  DESIGNED AND TYPESET IN MINION BY MIKE KERIN

  SOON TO BE PRINTED....

  "A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature."

  —Ralph Waldo Emerson "Friendship”

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  It looked like an insect; its shiny black casing would have made any self-respecting beetle chew its claws in envy. It moved like an insect; delicate wings whirring, it sped through the forest, darting between tangled boughs and wiry branches. But when the clouds parted and moonlight shone down, the probe revealed its mechanical nature. Stopping dead, it turned on a pinhead, measuring the changes in the environment, then its wings became a blur again and off it flew.

  Finding a stream, the probe followed its winding course downhill between gnarled roots and boulders covered with beards of moss and blotches of lichen. It paused to listen when a blackbird sang, when a dead branch fell, and again beside a strange bush that overhung the stream. With a short, stout trunk topped by a thick black mop, the bush was clearly unusual but the noise it made was even stranger.

  “I am Warblegrub,

  Warblegrub am I.”

  The bush was singing! Whirring and clicking excitedly, the probe circled the new phenomenon, its cameras moving rapidly in an eerie imitation of eyes.

  “I am Warblegrub,

  Warblegrub am I.

  I know where I’m going….”

  The singing stopped abruptly when a thin beam of red light stabbed out from the probe and fell on a patch of smooth bark, just above two shining black gems set deep into the trunk. The bush suddenly grew taller, almost doubling in size, and the probe now beheld not a bush but a bearded man in a shabby grey overcoat, his eyes shining like stars.

  As the probe was processing this new information, it was plucked from the air. The man examined the complex machinery that bleeped and squirmed in his hand.

  “What are you, you pretty little thing?” he asked, then peered into the array of cameras and sensors. “You are someone’s eyes!”

  Sensing the being watching through the probe, he followed the signal back to its source and encountered an inquisitive and intelligent mind – a presence he had not felt since.... He crushed the delicate machine and stuffed it in his pocket then set off through the trees, singing gruffly to himself.

  “I am warblegrub,

  Warblegrub am I.

  I know where I’m going,

  But I don’t know why!”

  *

  In the shadows of the silver-grey moon a spaceship waited; huge, wedge-shaped; a base ship whose gunmetal-grey hull bristled with weapons.

  “No further contact with the probe, Sir. Shall I launch the spare?”

  “Save it; let’s go see for ourselves.”

  One after another, six small grey warships dropped from the base ship’s underbelly, left the shadow of the moon and headed for the nearby planet, a shining blue-green orb. Covering hundreds of thousands of kilometres in just a few short minutes, they began to orbit in a delta formation. Far below, an emerald forest gave way to the undulating ridges of a featureless desert then the white-capped waves of a vast shining ocean.

  Orbit complete, the silver-grey moon rose ahead of them, its craters concentrated in patches that formed a familiar pattern.

  “There’s the face, Colonel – the Man in the Moon!”

  “Let’s not be hasty S.O., there are dozens more planets….”

  “Energy reading! There’s something dead ahead!”

  Breaking formation, the warships encircled an empty patch of space and pointed like darts at its centre. Firing tracers, they illuminated a craft of extraordinary design. Or was it a gigantic creature misplaced from some fantastic ocean – a bizarre hybrid of squid and jellyfish? Missiles followed the tracers, but with a speed and agility that stunned its attackers, the jellysquid dodged them all and struck the nearest warship with a long, sinuous tentacle. The vessel lost power instantaneously and the jellysquid grew larger and brighter. It seemed immune to the other warships’ missiles and when their sister ship exploded, they turned about and fled, with the jellysquid in close pursuit.

  Too close to the planet, the rearmost ship skimmed the atmosphere. It pulled clear, but had fallen behind the others, and in desperation it turned and opened fire on its pursuer. Swept contemptuously aside, it broke apart as it went hurtling towards the planet.

  One after another, the remaining warships made equally brief and futile stands until only one remained. Evading the lashing tentacles, it headed for the moon. Hard on its heels, the jellysquid struck a glancing blow but the warship’s engines roared and it darted away. Hurtling into orbit, it remained just out of reach and on the dark side of the moon, the jellysquid encountered the base ship waiting in its path.

  Pounded by streams of missiles, the jellysquid absorbed the barrage until the base ship paused to reload, then it struck like lightning. Fixing all its tentacles on its foe, it blazed with colour and grew bigger and bigger, soon dwarfing its enemy. The missiles ceased, the guns fell silent and the base ship succumbed with surprising ease.

  But just when the struggle seemed over there was a blinding flash. Both base ship and jellysquid were vaporised in an instant. When nothing remained but tiny fragments of debris floating in empty space, the little warship that had taken refuge behind the moon reappeared and made straight for the blue-green planet. At the edge of the atmosphere, it appeared to lay an egg – a small satellite, which it left spinning in orbit – then its hull began to glow red as it descended.

  “What was that, S.O.?” the Colonel demanded, as the warship passed into the shadow of the planet’s night.

  “Nothing like it on the database, Sir.”

  “Any other energy readings?”

  The Science Officer quickly scanned arrays of data from a variety of instruments. “Nothing else.”

  “You still think it’s Earth?”

  He continued to scan. “A near perfect match, Sir – it’s Earth!”

  At his words a cheer resounded round the bridge and all eyes looked up at the view screen. They were flying low over white-capped waves that glistened in the moonlight, approaching a long, grey shore. Tall cliffs reared up, scored with ravines and canyons, and beyond were massive towers, which seemed to be covered in shards of gleaming ice. As they drew near, they saw that the ravines and canyons were the streets of a derelict and decaying city, in the midst of which skyscrapers soared, their shattered windows reflecting the moonlight. As they passed between the towers of steel and glass, they gaped, wide-eyed with astonishment.

  “We’re home!” whispered the Colonel hoarsely. Then he spoke ship-wide over the intercom, his voice solemn and commanding. “Attention everyone! Though we are breaking Intergalactic Law and will certainly face the severest penalty if caug
ht, I remind you of the oath we all swore: to reclaim our home or die in the attempt. Remember, whatever may come, our cause is just and we will prevail!”

  Chapter Two

  Given his shabby appearance, you might have expected Warblegrub to lumber but his steps were surprisingly nimble. He hurried through the forest, hopping and skipping over tangled roots, vaulting over boulders and hurdling low branches. His expression, however, was grave and every now and again he muttered angrily, “They wouldn’t dare!”

  He was in mid hop when a bright flash lit up the night, making him stumble and fall. Used to meteors burning up in the atmosphere, he dusted himself down and continued on his way, but moments later there was a second flash and a fireball streaked across the sky. Warblegrub watched it trailing fire until it disappeared from view and a huge explosion shook the forest, knocking him over again. Head spinning, he lay on his back, looking up through the sparse forest canopy at the starry sky. There was no doubt about it, the humans had returned!

  Although he was furious, he could not deny he had missed them – they were by far the most interesting and unpredictable species he had ever encountered, on any of the worlds he tended.

  Pondering his dilemma, Warblegrub smelt burning and remembering the explosion, he leapt to his feet and ran. Wisps of smoke were drifting towards him through the trees and he began to find charred debris strewn over the forest floor: gunmetal-grey sheets – some marked with white letters and numbers – burnt cylinders, boxes and various lengths of pipes and wire. Among the debris, he noticed young ferns poking up through the earth. Stooping to examine one, he curled it round his finger like a monkey’s tail round a branch. Though the frond was undamaged, when he looked round he saw a whole swathe of them shrivelled and burnt, and felt sick.

  “And death comes with them!”

  Warblegrub wiped his eyes and headed down into the valley, towards a bright orange glow. There was a long scar of blackened earth and burning tree stumps at the bottom of the slope, and at the end of a trench full of smouldering cinders he saw the remains of a small spacecraft, half buried in the ground. The damage to the trees and plants was horrific enough but what upset him most was the charred body of a mouse at his feet.

  Noticing another of those irritating red lights glinting on his beard, he searched the shadows for a probe. Instead, he saw a figure in a grey jumpsuit and black helmet among the trees; the thin beam of red light came from the sight of a weapon.

  “Who are you?”

  Though it was distorted by the helmet, Warblegrub recognised the voice as human and female. Unclipping a small black device that hung from her belt, she waved it from side to side and gave a surprised grunt. Her visor rose, and Warblegrub was surprised to see how young she was – certainly not much more than twenty. She approached, her weapon ready, the red dot quivering on his chest.

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Our probe detected nothing bigger than birds and rodents.”

  “Probe? You mean this!” He took the mangled device from his pocket and held it out. “I don’t think it’s working.”

  She lowered her weapon but remained wary. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  He stuffed the probe back in his pocket and offered her his hand. “I’m Warblegrub.”

  “I’m Al....” she began, then stopped herself. “I’m Pilot Officer 478.”

  “I prefer Al.”

  “It’s not Al, it’s Alex, but you will call me 478.”

  “Alex is a nice name.”

  “It’s Pilot Officer 478,” she warned, and pointed another black instrument at him. It gave a high-pitched whirr and a yellow light appeared. Looking puzzled, she shook it and pointed it at him again, but again the light shone yellow. “Must be malfunctioning.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not registering you as a life form.”

  “Might I ask what you’re doing here?” asked Warblegrub, changing the subject, but she ignored him and turned her attention to the wrecked spacecraft. He remembered that humans had never been good listeners. “What are you doing here?” he asked again.

  “I crashed,” she answered gruffly.

  Failing to open a panel on the side of the spacecraft by conventional means, Alex hit it with the butt of her gun. It remained shut.

  “I meant….”

  “I know what you meant!” She hit the panel again.

  “Was it your ship?” Warblegrub ventured.

  “The escape pod; the ship was destroyed by some creature.”

  “But you were flying it?”

  She nodded without looking round.

  “Are there any other survivors?”

  She hesitated and, though her face was hidden, he felt her pain. When she removed her helmet, however, there was no sign of tears. “I was the only one to get out,” she replied.

  Placing her helmet on the ground, she wiped the sweat from her brow, freed her shoulder-length dark hair from its knot and gave her neck a few experimental twists. Then she hit the unyielding panel again – very hard.

  “What are you doing?”

  Losing her temper, Alex pounded repeatedly. Just as Warblegrub was about to suggest a more considered approach the panel flew open, revealing a compartment containing a much larger gun with a shoulder strap, a small box marked with a red cross, webbing and a large backpack. A similar compartment on the other side of the vessel opened at the first touch of the keypad. From this she took several clips of ammunition and some small black grenades. She pulled the webbing over her shoulders, clipped on the ammunition and grenades, and stowed the rest of the equipment in the backpack.

  “Guns and bombs,” groaned Warblegrub silently. “Here we go again!”

  She picked up her helmet, removed a button from the inside rim and attached it to a strap around her wrist.

  “What’s that?”

  “My com-link,” she replied. “I can communicate with….” She stopped herself, scowled at him then spoke to the button on her wrist. “Pilot Officer 478 requesting assistance, over.”

  “Are you trying to contact your friends?”

  Her grunt sounded affirmative.

  “Will they come and get you?”

  “We leave no one behind,” she replied confidently, and a moment later the response came.

  “Sit tight 478, assistance on its way. Confirm position, over and out.”

  Alex took another device from her belt and held it up, and a thin beam of white light shone high into the sky. Seconds later a distant rumbling began, quickly growing louder. Red, white and green lights flashing, the warship appeared above the treetops but Alex noticed immediately that something was wrong. It came in low over the glade, wobbling slightly. Warblegrub looked on in horror as the dirty, ugly, noisy craft – a typically human insult to nature – began to descend, snapping charred twigs and branches from the surviving trees and raising a great cloud of hot ash from the trench. Realising they were too close, Alex started to back away. She stumbled, but Warblegrub grabbed her and pulled her out of the way. With a final roar, the ship landed heavily and the ground shook, then the landing pods buckled and the ship collapsed, crashing down on its belly.

  When it had settled into the earth, a hatch opened in its side and a ramp descended. Three figures emerged, dressed in a similar style to Alex but with black jumpsuits and body armour. Two had black helmets similar to hers, but the tallest of the three, the man in the middle, wore a wide-brimmed grey hat with a thin gold braid. He had two old-fashioned revolvers holstered at his waist and, despite the fact that it was night, he was wearing sunglasses. Taking a smouldering cigar from his mouth, he breathed deeply, inhaling the stench of the burning glade.

  Chapter Three

  Alex saluted smartly. “It’s good to see you, Colonel!”

  The Colonel grunted, removed his sunglasses and studied the prisoner with cold grey eyes. “Who’s this?”

  “Calls himself Warblegrub, Sir.”

  “Kernel’s a nice name!” sa
id Warblegrub, offering him a hand.

  “It’s not a name,” snapped Alex, nudging him in the ribs with her gun, “it’s his rank!”

  The Colonel ignored the hand. “What’s he doing here?”

  “I found him nosing round the crash site, Sir.”

  “Nosing!” Warblegrub was indignant.

  The Colonel looked him in the eye and frowned. “Seems our intelligence was inadequate!”

  Warblegrub raised an eyebrow. “How true!”

  The Colonel surveyed the crash site. “Any other survivors?”

  Alex shook her head.

  “We lost a lot of good people today,” he said gravely. “Their sacrifices will not be in vain.” Then he turned to the ship and spoke into the com-link on his wrist. “Sergeant 175, Science Officer 395 and the Chief Engineer, join me outside.”

  Returning to Warblegrub, the Colonel looked him over again, from his scruffy head to his mud-caked boots. “Who are you and what’re you doing here?”

  “That’s funny,” replied Warblegrub, “I was just about to ask you the same question!”

  At the Colonel’s signal, the two guards moved closer, threatening Warblegrub with their guns. He noticed their dog tags – Pt 312 and Pt 749 – and remembered that soldiers answered to numbers and were trained to obey orders without question.

  “This is our planet Mister Warblegrub….” the Colonel began.

  “It’s just Warblegrub. And I’m well aware that you believe this planet belongs to you. In fact, I have some sympathy with your desire to return, but you won’t be allowed to do so, and you will pay a price for this trespass!”

  “And who are you to threaten us?”

  Warblegrub straightened the collar of his overcoat and squared his shoulders. “I suppose you could say I’m the gardener,” he replied haughtily. “The Head Gardener!”

  He endured the Colonel’s glare until Sergeant 175, Science Officer 395 and the Chief Engineer arrived. Hurrying down the ramp, they saluted, and the Sergeant and the Science Officer stood rigidly to attention while the Chief Engineer immediately started to examine the stricken warship’s undercarriage. Though surprised to see Warblegrub, the Sergeant and the Science Officer said nothing. Warblegrub gently probed their minds and recognised the Science Officer as the probe’s operator.