THE GUN

The Captain looked through the telescope. He quickly adjusted the focus.

"It was a nuclear fission we just witnessed," he said after a moment. He sighed and pushed the eyepiece away. "Anyone who wants to take a look can go ahead. But it’s not a pretty sight."

"Let me see," Tance the archaeologist said. He bent down to take a look, squinting. "Oh my goodness!" He jumped back abruptly, bumping into Dorle, the Chief Navigator.

"Why did we come all this way, then?" Dorle asked, glancing at the other men. "There's no reason to even land. Let's turn back right away."

"Maybe he's right," the biologist said softly. "But I’d like to check for myself, if that’s okay." He moved past Tance and looked into the view.

He saw a wide open space, an endless gray surface stretching to the edge of the planet. At first, he thought it was water, but after a moment, he realized it was slag—pitted, fused slag, interrupted only by mounds of rock rising up at intervals. Nothing moved or stirred. Everything was silent, lifeless.

"I see," Fomar said, stepping back from the eyepiece. "Well, I won't find any beans there." He attempted to smile, but his lips didn't budge. He moved aside and stood alone, gazing beyond the others.

"I wonder what the air sample will show," Tance said.

"I think I can figure it out," the Captain replied. "Most of the atmosphere is toxic. But didn’t we anticipate all this? I don’t understand why we’re so shocked. A fission visible from as far away as our system must be a horrific event."

He walked down the hallway confidently and without expression. They watched him vanish into the control room.

As the Captain closed the door, the young woman turned. "What did the telescope reveal? Good news or bad?"

"Bad. No life could possibly exist. The atmosphere is toxic, water has evaporated, and all the land is fused."

"Could they have gone incognito?"

The Captain pulled open the port window so they could see the planet beneath them. They both looked down, quiet and unsettled. Mile after mile of endless destruction lay below, blackened debris, pockmarked and damaged, with occasional piles of rock.

Suddenly, Nasha jumped. "Look! Over there, at the edge. Do you see it?"

They stared. Something emerged, not rock, not just a random formation. It was round, a circle of dots, white pellets on the lifeless surface of the planet. A city? Some kind of buildings?

"Please turn the ship," Nasha said excitedly. She brushed her dark hair away from her face. "Turn the ship and let's see what it is!"

The ship turned, altering its course. As they flew over the white dots, the Captain lowered the ship, bringing it down as much as he could. "Piers," he said. "Piers made of some kind of stone. Maybe poured artificial stone. The remains of a city."

"Oh, no," Nasha whispered. "How terrible." She watched the ruins fade away behind them. In a half-circle, the white squares jutted out from the debris, chipped and cracked, like broken teeth.

"There's nothing here," the Captain finally said. "I think we should head back; I know most of the crew wants to. Get the Government Receiving Station on the radio and let them know what we found, and that we—"

He stumbled.

The first atomic shell hit the ship, causing it to spin around. The Captain fell to the floor, slamming into the control table. Papers and equipment fell all around him. As he began to get up, the second shell hit. The ceiling split open, and struts and girders twisted and warped. The ship shook, suddenly dropping, then leveling out as the automatic controls took charge.

The Captain was lying on the floor next to the wrecked control panel. In the corner, Nasha was trying to get free from the rubble.

Outside, the crew was already sealing the huge gaps in the side of the ship, where the precious air was rushing out, dissipating into the emptiness beyond. "Help me!" Dorle shouted. "Fire over here, the wiring's on fire!" Two men ran over. Tance watched helplessly, his glasses broken and bent.

"So there is life here, after all," he said, half to himself. "But how could—"

"Help us out," Fomar said, rushing by. "Help us out, we need to land the ship!"

It was night. A few stars shimmered above them, blinking through the drifting dust that blew across the planet's surface.

Dorle looked out, frowning. "What a place to be trapped in." He went back to his work, hammering the damaged metal hull of the ship back into shape. He was wearing a pressure suit; there were still several small leaks, and radioactive particles from the atmosphere had already made their way into the ship.

Nasha and Fomar were sitting at the table in the control room, looking pale and serious, going over the inventory lists.

"Low on carbs," Fomar said. "We can break down the stored fats if we want to, but—"

"I wonder if we can find anything outside." Nasha went to the window. "It looks so uninviting." She paced back and forth, very thin and small, her face shadowed with fatigue. "What do you think an exploring party would discover?"

Fomar shrugged. "Not much. Maybe a few weeds growing in cracks here and there. Nothing we could use. Anything that could survive in this environment would be toxic, deadly."

Nasha paused, rubbing her cheek. There was a deep scratch there, still red and swollen. "Then how do you explain—it? According to your theory, the inhabitants must have died in their skins, fried like yams. But who fired on us? Someone detected us, made a decision, aimed a gun."

"And gauged distance," the Captain said weakly from the cot in the corner. He turned toward them. "That's what worries me. The first shell took us out of commission, the second one nearly destroyed us. They were well-aimed, perfectly aimed. We're not an easy target."

"True." Fomar nodded. "Well, maybe we'll know the answer before we leave here. What a weird situation! All our reasoning tells us that no life could exist; the whole planet is scorched, and the atmosphere is completely gone and toxic."

"The gun that fired the bullets survived," Nasha said. "So why not people?"

"It's not the same. Metal doesn't need air to breathe. Metal doesn't get leukemia from radioactive particles. Metal doesn't need food and water."

It was quiet.

"A paradox," Nasha said. "Anyway, in the morning I think we should send out a search party. In the meantime, we should keep working on getting the ship ready for the trip back."

"It'll take days before we can leave," Fomar said. "We should have everyone working here. We can't risk sending out a team."

Nasha smiled slightly. "We'll send you in the first group. Maybe you can find out—what was it you were so curious about?"

"Beans. Edible beans."

"Maybe you can find some of them. Just—"

"Only what?"

"Just be careful. They shot at us once without even knowing who we were or what we wanted. Do you think they fought among themselves? Maybe they couldn't fathom anyone being friendly, no matter the situation. What a weird evolutionary trait, inter-species warfare. Fighting within their own kind!"

"We'll find out in the morning," Fomar said. "Let's get some sleep."

The sun rose cold and stark. The three people, two men and a woman, stepped through the port, landing on the hard ground below.

"What a day," Dorle said grumpily. "I said how glad I'd be to walk on solid ground again, but—"

"Come on," Nasha said. "Sit next to me. I want to talk to you. Is that okay, Tance?"

Tance nodded sadly. Dorle caught up with Nasha. They walked together, their metal shoes crunching on the ground. Nasha glanced at him.

"Listen. The Captain is dying. No one knows except the two of us. By the end of this day on this planet, he’ll be gone. The shock did something to his heart. He was almost sixty, you know."

Dorle nodded. "That's not good. I really respect him. You'll be captain in his place, of course. Since you're the vice-captain now—"

"No. I’d rather have someone else take the lead, maybe you or Fomar. I’ve been considering the situation, and I think I should just go ahead and declare myself partnered with one of you, whoever wants to be captain. That way, I can pass on the responsibility."

"Well, I don’t want to be the captain. Let Fomar handle it."

Nasha looked at him, tall and blond, walking next to her in his pressure suit. "I'm kind of fond of you," she said. "We could give it a shot for awhile, at least. But do whatever you want. Look, we're approaching something."

They paused their walk to let Tance catch up. In front of them was a kind of dilapidated building. Dorle looked around, deep in thought.

"Do you see? This entire area is a natural bowl, a massive valley. Look at how the rock formations rise up all around, sheltering the ground below. Perhaps some of the huge explosion got redirected here."

They walked around the ruins, collecting rocks and pieces. "I think this was a farm," Tance said, looking at a piece of wood. "This was part of a tower windmill."

"Really?" Nasha grabbed the stick and flipped it over. "Interesting. But let's go; we don't have much time."

"Look," Dorle said suddenly. "Over there, a long way off. Isn't that amazing?" He pointed.

Nasha took a deep breath. "The white stones."

"What’s up?"

Nasha looked up at Dorle. "The white stones, the huge broken teeth. The Captain and I saw them from the control room." She gently touched Dorle's arm. "That's where they fired from. I didn't realize we had landed so close."

"What is it?" Tance asked, approaching them. "I'm basically blind without my glasses. What do you see?"

"The city. Where they shot from."

"Oh." All three of them stood together. "Well, let's go," Tance said. "Who knows what we'll find there?" Dorle frowned at him.

"Hold on. We don't know what we're getting ourselves into. They probably have patrols. They might have already spotted us, for that matter."

"They probably have seen the ship itself," Tance said. "They probably know right now where they can find it, where they can blow it up. So what difference does it make whether we get closer or not?"

"That's true," Nasha said. "If they really want to get us, we don't stand a chance. We don't have any weapons at all; you know that."

"I have a weapon." Dorle nodded. "Alright, let’s continue then. I guess you’re right, Tance."

"But let's stick together," Tance said nervously. "Nasha, you're moving too quickly."

Nasha looked back and laughed. "If we want to get there by nightfall, we need to hurry."

They arrived on the edge of the city around mid-afternoon. The sun, a chilly yellow, loomed above them in the dull sky. Dorle paused at the top of a ridge that looked down on the city.

"Well, there it is. What's left of it."

There wasn't much left. The massive concrete piers they had seen weren't actually piers at all, but the crumbled foundations of buildings. They had been scorched by the intense heat, baked and burnt nearly to the ground. Nothing else remained, just this uneven circle of white squares, maybe four miles wide.

Dorle spat in disgust. "Another waste of time. Just a lifeless shell of a city, that's all."

"But this is where the shots came from," Tance murmured. "Don't forget that."

"And by someone with a good eye and a lot of experience," Nasha added. "Let's go."

They walked into the city among the ruined buildings. No one said a word. They walked in silence, hearing the echo of their footsteps.

"It's creepy," Dorle said quietly. "I've seen ruined cities before, but they faded away with time, just growing old and weary. This one was destroyed, burned to death. This city didn't just die—it was murdered."

"I wonder what the city was called," Nasha said. She turned aside, climbing the remnants of a stairway from one of the foundations. "Do you think we could find a signpost? Maybe a plaque?"

She looked into the ruins.

"There's nothing there," Dorle said, feeling frustrated. "Let's go."

"Wait." Nasha bent down, touching a concrete stone. "There's something carved into this."

"What is it?" Tance rushed over. He squatted in the dirt, running his gloved fingers over the stone's surface. "Letters, for sure." He pulled a writing stick from his pressure suit pocket and copied the inscription onto a piece of paper. Dorle looked over his shoulder. The inscription was:

"That's this city," Nasha said quietly. "That was its name."

Tance put the paper in his pocket and they continued walking. After a while, Dorle said, "Nasha, you know, I think someone’s watching us. But don’t look around."

The woman tensed up. "Oh? Why do you say that? Did you see something?"

"No. But I can sense it. Can’t you?"

Nasha smiled faintly. "I don't feel anything, but maybe I'm just more used to people staring at me." She tilted her head slightly. "Oh!"

Dorle grabbed his gun. "What's going on? What do you see?" Tance had frozen in place, his mouth slightly open.

"The gun," Nasha said. "It's the gun."

"Check out how big it is. The size of that thing." Dorle slowly unstrapped his weapon. "That's definitely it."

The gun was massive. Stark and huge, it pointed up at the sky, a mass of steel and glass, embedded in a huge slab of concrete. As they watched, the gun moved on its swivel base, whirring underneath. A slim vane turned with the wind, a network of rods atop a tall pole.

"It's alive," Nasha whispered. "It's listening to us, watching us."

The gun shifted again, this time clockwise. It was set up to make a full rotation. The barrel dipped slightly, then returned to its original position.

"But who pulls the trigger?" Tance said.

Dorle laughed. "No one. No one uses it."

They stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"It shoots itself."

They couldn't believe him. Nasha stepped closer to him, frowning and looking up at him. "I don't get it. What do you mean, it fires itself?"

"Just watch, I'll show you. Don't move." Dorle grabbed a rock from the ground. He paused for a moment and then threw the rock high into the air. The rock sailed in front of the gun. Instantly, the massive barrel shifted, and the vanes closed in.

The rock dropped to the ground. The gun paused, then continued its steady swivel, its slow circling.

"You see," Dorle said, "it noticed the rock as soon as I threw it into the air. It's alert to anything that flies or moves above ground level. It probably detected us as soon as we entered the planet's gravitational field. It likely had us in its sights from the beginning. We don't stand a chance. It knows everything about the ship. It's just waiting for us to take off again."

"I get what you're saying about the rock," Nasha said, nodding. "The gun picked up on it, but not us, since we're on the ground, not up in the air. It's only made to target things in the sky. The ship is safe until it takes off again; then it's all over."

"But what's this gun for?" Tance asked. "There's nobody alive here. Everyone is dead."

"It's a machine," Dorle said. "A machine that was built to do a job. And it's doing its job. I have no idea how it survived the blast. It just keeps going, waiting for the enemy. They probably arrived by air in some kind of projectiles."

"The enemy," Nasha said. "Their own kind. It's hard to believe they actually bombed themselves, shot at themselves."

"Well, it's finished. Except right here, where we're standing. This one gun, still alert, ready to kill. It'll keep going until it wears out."

"And by then we'll be dead," Nasha said bitterly.

"There must have been hundreds of guns like this," Dorle murmured. "They must have been used to the sight of guns, weapons, and uniforms. They probably accepted it as a normal part of their lives, like eating and sleeping. An institution, like the church and the state. Men trained to fight, to lead armies—a regular profession. Honored and respected."

Tance was walking slowly toward the gun, squinting up at it. "Pretty complicated, right? All those vanes and tubes. I guess this is some kind of telescopic sight." His gloved hand brushed against the end of a long tube.

Instantly, the gun shifted, the barrel pulling back. It swung—

"Don't move!" Dorle shouted. The barrel swung past them as they stood still and tense. For one horrifying moment, it paused above their heads, clicking and whirring, before settling into place. Then the sounds faded away, and the gun fell silent.

Tance smiled goofily inside his helmet. "I must have covered the lens with my finger. I'll be more careful." He climbed up onto the circular platform, stepping cautiously behind the gun. He vanished from sight.

"Where did he go?" Nasha said irritably. "He'll get us all killed."

"Tance, come back!" Dorle yelled. "What's wrong with you?"

"In a minute." There was a long silence. At last, the archaeologist appeared. "I think I've found something. Come up and I'll show you."

"What's that?"

"Dorle, you said the gun was here to keep the enemy away. I think I understand why they wanted to do that."

They were confused.

"I think I've figured out what the gun is supposed to protect. Come help me out."

"Okay," Dorle said suddenly. "Let’s go." He grabbed Nasha's hand. "Come on. Let’s check out what he’s discovered. I had a feeling something like this would happen when I saw that the gun was—"

"Like what?" Nasha pulled her hand away. "What are you talking about? You act like you know what he found."

"I do." Dorle smiled down at her. "Do you remember the legend that all races have, the myth of the buried treasure and the dragon, the serpent that watches over it, guarding it and keeping everyone away?"

She nodded. "So?"

Dorle pointed at the gun.

"That," he said, "is the dragon. Let’s go."

Between the three of them, they managed to lift the steel cover and set it aside. Dorle was drenched in sweat when they were done.

"It’s not worth it," he grunted. He looked into the dark, gaping hole. "Or is it?"

Nasha turned on her flashlight, directing the beam down the stairs. The steps were covered in dust and debris. At the bottom was a metal door.

"Come on," Tance said excitedly. He started down the stairs. They watched him get to the door and pull on it hopefully, but it wouldn’t budge. "Give me a hand!"

"Okay." They approached him cautiously. Dorle looked at the door. It was bolted shut and locked. There was an inscription on the door, but he couldn't read it.

"What's next?" Nasha said.

Dorle pulled out his gun. "Step back. I can't think of any other option." He pressed the button. The bottom of the door lit up red. Soon, it started to break apart. Dorle turned off the weapon. "I think we can make it through. Let's give it a shot."

The door came apart easily. In a few minutes, they had taken it away in pieces and stacked the pieces on the first step. Then they moved on, shining the light ahead of them.

They were in a vault. Dust was everywhere, on everything, inches thick. Wooden crates lined the walls, huge boxes and containers. Tance looked around with curiosity, his eyes shining.

"What are all these?" he murmured. "Something valuable, I would think." He picked up a round drum and opened it. A spool fell to the floor, unrolling a black ribbon. He examined it, holding it up to the light.

"Check this out!"

They gathered around him. "Pictures," Nasha said. "Little pictures."

"Records of some sort." Tance shut the spool back in the drum. "Check it out, hundreds of drums." He pointed the light around. "And those crates. Let’s open one."

Dorle was already prying at the wood. The wood had become brittle and dry. He managed to pull a piece away.

It was a picture. A boy in a blue outfit, smiling pleasantly, looking forward, young and good-looking. He looked almost alive, about to step toward them in the light of the flashlight. It was one of them, one of the ruined people, the ones who had been lost.

For a long time, they looked at the picture. Finally, Dorle put the board back.

"All these other crates," Nasha said. "More pictures. And these drums. What's in the boxes?"

"This is their treasure," Tance said, almost to himself. "Here are their pictures, their records. All their literature is probably here, their stories, their myths, their thoughts about the universe."

"And their history," Nasha said. "We'll be able to track their development and discover what caused them to become what they were."

Dorle was wandering around the vault. "Weird," he murmured. "Even at the end, even after they had started to fight, they still knew, deep down inside, that their real treasure was this, their books and pictures, their myths. Even after their big cities and buildings and industries were destroyed, they probably hoped to come back and find this. After everything else was gone."

"When we get back home, we can push for a mission to come here," Tance said. "All this can be packed up and taken back. We'll be leaving around—"

He paused.

"Yeah," Dorle said flatly. "We'll be leaving in about three days. We'll get the ship fixed, then take off. Soon we'll be home, that is, if nothing goes wrong. Like getting shot down by that—"

"Oh, stop it!" Nasha said impatiently. "Leave him alone. He's right: we have to take all this back home eventually. We need to figure out the issue with the gun. We don't have a choice."

Dorle nodded. "So what's your solution, then? As soon as we take off, we'll get shot down." His face twisted in bitterness. "They've protected their treasure too well. Instead of being saved, it'll just sit here until it decays. They deserve it."

"How?"

"Don't you see? This was the only way they knew how to operate—creating a weapon and getting it ready to fire at anything that showed up. They were so convinced that everything was a threat, an enemy, out to steal what they had. Fine, let them have it."

Nasha was lost in thought, her mind drifting away. Suddenly, she gasped. "Dorle," she said. "What's wrong with us? We have no issue. The gun isn't a threat at all."

The two men looked at her.

"No threat?" Dorle said. "It already took us down once. And as soon as we take off again—"

"Don't you see?" Nasha started to laugh. "The poor, silly gun, it's totally harmless. I could even handle it by myself."

"You?"

Her eyes were sparkling. "With a crowbar. With a hammer or a piece of wood. Let's head back to the ship and grab some tools. Sure, we’re at its mercy while we're in the air: that’s how it was designed. It can shoot up into the sky, take down anything that flies. But that’s it! It has no defenses against anything on the ground. Isn’t that right?"

Dorle nodded slowly. "The dragon's weak spot. In the legend, the dragon's armor doesn't cover its belly." He started to laugh. "That's right. That's exactly right."

"Let's go," Nasha said. "Let's head back to the ship. We have things to take care of here."

It was early the next morning when they reached the ship. During the night, the Captain had died, and the crew had burned his body, following tradition. They had stood quietly around it until the last ember faded. As they were returning to their tasks, the woman and the two men showed up, grimy and exhausted, yet still buzzing with excitement.

And soon, from the ship, a line of people appeared, each holding something in their hands. The line walked across the gray rubble, the endless stretch of fused metal. When they got to the weapon, they all attacked the gun at once, with crowbars, hammers, anything heavy and hard.

The telescopic sights broke into pieces. The wiring was ripped out, shredded. The delicate gears were crushed, dented.

Finally, the warheads were taken away, and the firing pins were removed.

The gun was wrecked, the powerful weapon ruined. The people went down into the vault and checked out the treasure. With its metal-armored guardian gone, there was no more danger. They looked at the pictures, the films, the crates of books, the jeweled crowns, the cups, and the statues.

At last, as the sun was setting into the gray mist that floated across the planet, they made their way back up the stairs again. For a moment, they stood around the damaged gun, staring at its still silhouette.

Then they headed back to the ship. There was still a lot of work to do. The ship had taken heavy damage, and a lot was broken and missing. The priority was to fix it as fast as possible to get it airborne.

With everyone working together, it took just five more days to make it ready for space.

Nasha stood in the control room, watching the planet disappear behind them. She crossed her arms and sat down on the edge of the table.

"What are you thinking?" Dorle asked.

"I'm fine."

"Are you certain?"

"I was thinking that there must have been a time when this planet was really different, when there was life on it."

"I guess there was. It’s too bad no ships from our system made it this far, but we had no reason to suspect intelligent life until we saw the fission glow in the sky."

"And then it was too late."

"Not quite too late. After all, their belongings, their music, books, their photos, all of that will last. We'll take them home and learn from them, and they'll transform us. We won't be the same after that. Their sculptures, especially. Did you see the one of the great winged creature, missing its head and arms? Broken off, I guess. But those wings— It looked really old. It will change us a lot."

"When we get back, we won't find the gun waiting for us," Nasha said. "Next time, it won't be there to take us out. We can land and grab the treasure, as you call it." She smiled up at Dorle. "You'll lead us back there, just like a good captain should."

"Captain?" Dorle smiled. "So you've made up your mind."

Nasha shrugged. "Fomar argues with me way too much. Honestly, I think I prefer you overall."

"Then let's go," Dorle said. "Let's head back home."

The ship soared upward, gliding over the remains of the city. It curved in a wide arc and then took off beyond the horizon, heading into outer space.

Down below, in the middle of the ruined city, a single half-broken detector vane moved slightly, picking up the roar of the ship. The base of the massive gun throbbed painfully, struggling to turn. After a moment, a red warning light flashed deep inside its damaged machinery.

And far away, a hundred miles from the city, another warning light turned on deep underground. Automatic relays sprang into action. Gears moved, and belts squeaked. Above ground, a piece of metal debris slid back. A ramp showed up.

A moment later, a small cart shot up to the surface.

The cart turned towards the city. A second cart pulled up behind it. It was filled with wiring cables. Behind it, a third cart arrived, loaded with telescopic tube sights. More carts followed, some with relays, some with firing controls, and others with tools and parts, screws and bolts, pins and nuts. The last one carried atomic warheads.

The carts formed a line behind the first one, the lead cart. The lead cart set off across the frozen ground, bumping along smoothly, with the others trailing behind. Heading toward the city.

To the broken gun.