The Legend of Dan

by Robert Wingfield

  “Yes sir?”

  “Forget the shipyard message. Nothing happened today. Do you understand?”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Quite all right, sir, it was no trouble.”

  “No, I really mean, don’t mention it. If anyone asks, you haven’t seen those fleets, right? They simply vanished.”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Good man.”

  The control room returned to normal, and a hurried conference was convened on the balcony among the senior commanders.

  * * *

  Kara swore, and thumped the console. Tom was dozing on one of the storage units. He shuddered out of his daydream, and went to stand behind her, peering at the pattern of shapes that held her attention, and occasionally down her blouse again, as she leaned forward.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked. “Can I be of any help?”

  Kara grunted, and then flashed her automatic ‘be tolerant with Tom, you need something’ smile at him. “It is a message from that irritating little man you met on Skagos.”

  Tom brightened up. “What, the Magus? He was a good sort. He knew how to sink a few ales.”

  Kara shrugged. “He has tracked us using your bio-trace, and says he has some important information concerning the Consortium.”

  “He’s probably opened a pub somewhere, and is trying to drag us in as his first customers.”

  “We have no other leads at the moment. I suppose we should go and see what he wants. After all, if it is a wild drongo chase, we can simply come back in time to where we left, and start again.”

  “But I’ll be older, as will you. We can’t keep doing that.”

  “I don’t know,” Kara said oddly. “Shall we see what happens?”

  She programmed the console with the co-ordinates the Magus had supplied. The Cylinder responded immediately, and materialised in a strange and desolate place, near the outer limits of the galaxy.

  * * *

  “What a strange and desolate place,” said Tom, as he stepped out of their craft.

  “Yes, we’re near the outer limits of the galaxy,” said Kara, helpfully. “It’s always like this over here.”

  The land was barren, an arid, stony desert, lacking any vegetation other than a few small gnarled trees, and a twisted rose bush, groaning sadly under the weight of the cylinder. A hot wind moved a heavy violet mist in swirls around the boulders, and blew barely enough to chase the smaller grains of sand in and out of holes in the rocks.

  As the mist parted, Tom caught occasional glimpses of an immense purple sun, hanging heavily in the sky. On a few of the trees sat great crow-like birds, the sort of carrion creature that appears to have infinite patience in waiting for something to die. In the distance, seen through the occasional clearings in the mist, a sizeable number of the same birds wheeled over what looked like a raised earthwork.

  “Over there,” said Kara. She waved a small device.

  “What’s that then?”

  “GPS.”

  “GPS, out here?”

  “Galactic Probe and Something.”

  “Something?”

  “I can never remember. These acronyms drive me nuts. Anyway, I’ve checked the readings to confirm our heading... this way.” She started off, leaving a trail in the swirling mist.

  “Hang on. Not so fast.” Tom had difficulty keeping up with her. The wind whipped her smooth blonde hair into the careless muddle that he liked so much. She had changed her clothes again, this time into a backless dress of pale blue, clashing perfectly with the colour of the mist.

  “What?” She paused to regard him, contemptuously.

  “Why do you keep changing your clothes?”

  “Imagine if I was seen twice in the same outfit. No way.”

  “I’m trying to.” Tom licked his lips. “Where are we going?”

  “Over there.”

  “Where? How far?”

  “A long way. Can you make it?”

  “Of course, but why didn’t we stop a bit nearer?”

  “I thought you’d have worked it out by now…”

  “But…”

  “Later. Now belt up, and keep up.”

  Tom followed the girl, thinking he would never tire of the vision of her perfect legs, as they loped easily across the desert. Their path led straight towards the earthwork. “We will go round it,” said Kara. “It is a site of special historical interest23.”

  “I get a bad feeling about it. Are there dangerous animals here?”

  “I shouldn’t think so. Are you expecting trouble?”

  “Maybe. I’ve got a gun.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I found it in one of your storage units.”

  “The red bin, right?”

  “Yes... how did you know?”

  “That’s where I keep my hair dryer.”

  “Oh.”

  “Never mind,” said Kara, patting his hand. “If we do meet anything dangerous, I expect it would like its hair done, before it rips you in half.”

  “What’s that sound?”

  “If you mean the roar of engines, it is only a transport, probably bound for the metropolis. Look, there.”

  A sky-ship appeared through a break in the mist. Two black specs separated from it. There was a whistle, a scream and two sickening thuds. A murderously crowing, murder of crows rose from inside the enclosure.

  “That’s the way the dead are disposed of here,” said Kara. “It saves all the problem of digging holes, grieving and then setting fire to things.”

  “Those two from the sky ship were very noisy corpses.”

  “Probably the wind on the way down; you know what those ‘Umyousee’ beans are like.”

  “You really have a warped sense of humour.”

  Kara smirked. “I do my best.”

  Further on, the GPS took them round a cliff face. A construction of ancient fortifications loomed out of the mist, seemingly a mediaeval city wall built in the desert.

  “Behold the conurbation of Na-Drogda,” said Kara, gesticulating towards the ruins. “Once, centre of a thriving civilisation, but no longer, since the demand for carved wooden figurines dropped off, in favour of artefacts in glass. This used to be a beautiful place—trees, forests, pools, streams—but they cut down all the trees to make the figurines, and the exposed water dried up in the heat. Now, it barely survives as a final staging post for exploration of the outer parts of the galaxy. There is a way in,” she added. “Trust me.”

  “What, like I already have done?”

  “You are still alive, aren’t you, assuming your state of mind can be defined that way.”

  “No thanks to you.”

  Kara grinned, and blew him a kiss.

  They wandered along beside the walls, and eventually came to a towering gatehouse, retaining much of its original splendour. Tom remarked on it, and Kara told him that the huge gates, originally its main defence, had been cut up long ago to make carved items, and the wooden drawbridge had been replaced with a pile of rocks. “Come on then. Nobody will bother to stop us.”

  Tom studied the erotic carvings in the stone over the entrance as they passed through, and tried to envisage the place in its heyday. He walked straight into a beggarly man, wearing what once was a very smart suit.

  “Got the price of a cup of tea?”

  “About four Drogs,” said Kara, and callously kneed the man in the groin.

  Tom nodded, apologetically. “Women, eh?”

  “I’ve had worse,” muttered the beggar.

  Tom caught up with Kara, and they strode down alleys and passages. The remaining timbers in the buildings creaked and groaned as they passed. Shadowy beings flitted in the darkness of the structures. Empty windows gaped at them. A few women, heavily clad in black, darted away, and slammed doors. An air of desolation gripped Tom’s heart, and he quickened his pace.


  The mist was thinning as they went further into the city, but continued to swirl about in the narrow streets, blocking and revealing visions of more alleyways and dwellings. They still got occasional glimpses of the elusive inhabitants, as they ducked away in the clearing vapour.

  “It’s busy here today.” Kara’s voice made him jump. “Probably festival time or something. Ah, that must be where we are going.”

  She pointed at a church-like building, as it briefly emerged from the gloom on the opposite side of an open square. They were halfway across, before Tom noticed a grossly fat man, bald and bare from the waist upwards, sitting under the shadow of an awning. He was wearing what reminded Tom of a Turkish costume, as seen in children’s comics. His arms were folded and a scimitar hung at his side.

  “He looks a bit tough,” he said. “Better steer clear of him.”

  “Probably, but I believe your Magus is inside that cafe.”

  “How do you propose we get in past that guy?”

  “You could offer him a blow-dry.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Off you go, Superman. This is your job, why you are here.”

  “I suppose so.” Tom shuffled slowly through the swirling mist. As he approached, the hulk stood up and he saw exactly how tall it really was. His martial arts training had always said that the bigger the opponent, the more effect the throws would have, but his instructor had omitted to say anything about the moving of small planets without the aid of high-explosive. Tom steeled himself as the hulk lumbered towards him. The monster lifted its arms, reminding him of an opening swing-bridge.

  “Hello handsome, looking for a quiet place for a little drink,” it said in a high-pitched voice. “You are about to become my best customer. Come on inside. The first one is on me.”

  “Can I bring my friend, too?”

  The hulk noticed Kara, and looked disappointed. “If you must, but I never did like that kind of person.”

  “What, you mean women?”

  “That’s one name for them. She should be wearing more.”

  “It’s hot,” said Kara. “Can you blame me?”

  The hulk ignored her. “Your first drink is free. We are a bit crowded at the moment, but I’m sure we can find you a nice table. You will have to leave that outside.”

  Kara scowled at him, but Tom put his arm round her protectively. “That is my wife,” he lied.

  “Rubbish. Why should something that looks like that marry something that looks like you?”

  “Keep your hands to yourself, you pervert.” Kara shrugged the arm off, and gave Tom a cuff around the head.

  The hulk’s eyebrows rose. “I believe you. Only a wife would react in that way. Pass friends.”

  Worn steps led down into a room that reminded Tom of a crypt. He stared round suspiciously at the low tables and uncomfortable settles. It was deserted.

  “Er Kara, this low table, uncomfortable settle stuff, it wouldn’t be some unusual life-form, would it?”

  “Sit down and don’t be stupid.”

  “Then, this means that we are alone?”

  “It would seem so. Here will do, in this alcove.”

  “What did he mean, ‘a bit crowded’?”

  “Standard customer service training, I expect. He was trying to make us feel a bit special... apart from me, that is.”

  “It didn’t work.” Tom slumped on one of the uncomfortable seats.

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” Tom jumped, and swung round, banging his head on a pair of firm, shapely breasts, currently attached to a firm, shapely blonde waitress, carrying a tray.

  “A couple of your best Smak-beers please. My credit should be good here.” Kara handed over an identity card.

  The girl nodded, smiled, and looked furtively over her shoulder. “Kara-Tay, welcome, and to you also Two-Dan,” she whispered. “The Magus said you would be along. Follow me. I am Tanda,” she thrust out her chest, “one of the last of the great Skagan race.”

  “Bit young to be one of the last?” suggested Kara, as they followed the girl into a tiny side room.

  “A Skagan, at last,” said Tom. “I am not disappointed. She is gorgeous. Tanda, you know the Magus? How is he?”

  Kara butted in again. “Anyway, what do you mean, ‘Last of the Skagans’? What are you doing here in the first place?”

  Tanda took a deep breath.

  “The edited version,” Kara said.

  Tanda lowered her eyes and studied her toes. “Briefly then, we found a fleet of ships, went out to conquer the galaxy, failed, all destroyed.” She had a tremor in her voice. “We are the only survivors.”

  “We, who is we?” asked Tom.

  “Lord Vac, me, two of our men, and some ginger robot Vac collected as a trophy or something.”

  “Not much to show for a once great race,” said Kara unkindly. “What are you doing here, on this planet?”

  “I am serving tables, to keep us fed,” said Tanda, “Vac is sulking about the way things turned out, Groat and Spigot have stolen a small fighter, and are marauding around the Galaxy, looking for support for our cause, and the outlander is dying.

  “Outlander?” Tom tried to remember why he was interested.

  Kara ignored him. “So, you lost your entire fleet?”

  “All gone. We went off to sort out JWSU Central for causing us a load of trouble with the Smorgs. When we got to their headquarters, all we found was a cloud of space debris. Apparently, the Magus had been there before us.”

  “So where is he?”

  “He attached himself to our group; not sure why. Vac thinks he fancies me, but why would he? I am such a poor specimen of the master race.”

  “I beg to disagree...”

  “Shut up Two-Dan.”

  “Sorry, Kara.”

  Tanda sighed. “It wasn’t long before we met a squadron of Consortium ships. They attacked us, so we annihilated them. Then some more came, so we blew them apart too, and more and more. In the end, we ran out of power, and most of our ships were destroyed.”

  Vac was going to commit us to a final attack when we took a barrage which destroyed our shields, and knocked the outlander off her couch, on to what transpired to be a an emergency escape control. The ship did exactly that and brought us here on automatic pilot.”

  “The ship’s still here?”

  “Vac has it hidden somewhere, recharging and repairing itself... but it’s a slow business. It uses power absorbed from sources on the planet, and as you can see, it’s going to take an awful long time charging itself up from the fridge in the bar.”

  “So, the ship repairs automatically.” Kara looked thoughtful. Tom was fidgeting, wanting to know more about the outlander. His pulse was racing but every time he tried to ask, he was intimidated by an icy stare.

  “Yes,” replied Tanda, “that was why nothing would work on Skagos. Our ex fleet was absorbing all the power. We need to keep a low profile here, until we can get the ship going again. The Consortium is still looking for us. They don’t seem to be able to forgive what we have done to their ‘Domination of the Galaxy’ plan. They have their hands full, though. Already, we hear that some of the more rebellious planets are in uprising after information leaks on Twitface said that most of their military have been destroyed... by us,” she finished proudly.

  “I see, mphhh...” Tom slapped his hand over Kara’s mouth.

  “Tell me about the outlander.”

  “I was about to ask that for you,” mumbled Kara indignantly.

  “You must come back to our base. She is a bit poorly. A Smorg arrow did her no good at all, but that is of little importance.”

  “Smorg arrow?” Memories triggered in Tom’s mind. He let go of Kara’s mouth.

  “Oh bugger. The memory serum is wearing off,” she mumbled. “And I left the rest of it in the cylinder.”

  “Serum? Hang on. Now I remember.” Tom’s face went through a whole set of expre
ssions from joy to horror. “The girl. It must be Suzanne. Is she alive? Where is she?”

  “Later,” said Kara. “We have important matters to discuss.”

  Despite his agitation, the others ignored Tom, falling into a conversation that washed completely over his head. To calm his nerves, he took a swig from one of the glasses Tanda had brought. It was a heavy liquor, sweet and powerful. His head hit the table. The next thing he knew, was when Tanda propped him up and went to whisper in the ear of the man-mountain who was now cleaning the tables. He waved his huge side-of-beef hand in a manner that implied, “If you think that you can get them to buy more drinks by running them round the city until they are thirsty, then go ahead. I won’t dock much of your wages because of it.”

  Tanda waved her hand at the man-mountain in a manner that implied, “Good-bye”, and then she beckoned to the adventurers to follow her out into the purple evening air.

  The streets looked even more squalid in the half-light. Mist flowed in thicker patches, and now it drifted around their feet too, obscuring the parched ground. Silence reigned through the city, broken only by occasional croaks from the crows as they flapped overhead on their way from the burial enclosure to their roosting places in the mountains.

  Tanda motioned Tom and Kara to wait as she went on ahead, and then they followed her out on to the runway of a space-port. On one side was a cliff-face, with a row of aircraft hangers built against it. Patches of mist cleared to reveal decaying space freighters waiting for fuel, owners, spare parts, or merely somewhere to go. A few baggage-handlers wandered idly around, looking for suitcases to rifle.

  “Come on,” said Tanda. “It’s the last one on the left. Follow me, and try not to look conspicuous.”

  “It’s not exactly crowded,” muttered Kara, but they kept as much in the shadows as possible, as they made their way towards the building.

  The hanger was empty, apart from a few pieces of rusted machinery. Tanda showed them to the back, up metal stairs set against the rock, and through a rotted door that she locked pointlessly behind them.

  “This is Vac,” Tanda indicated the warrior, sitting by a grubby window. Vac ignored them. They were in a large room excavated into the side of the mountain. He saw what looked like a cooking stove, an earthenware sink with one tap, a threadbare mat on the floor, and at the far side, a double bed. “And someone the Magus thinks you might know…”