“Does your Dad have any thoughts on Pubs?”
Jenkins perked up like a puppy.
“Yes, but No, but I love Pubs,” he grins then and assumes a nonchalant pose against the doorframe: “I’ll have half a Guinness.”
“Jenkins, you’re 16, you’ll have a coke if you’re lucky. How do you fancy sausages and chunky chips?”
“Please Prof, I look 18, I won’t tell if you don’t!” Alison paused and gave him the look. The one she had perfected over two years of teaching. He stops dead, then replies.
“I love chunky chips.”
Illustration: The Queen Charlotte
Familiar pub fare, tapas & Sunday roasts in a vintage pub with contemporary decor & many gins.
(Google, The Queen Charlotte.)
Tadas Petrokas, Unsplash
The Queen Charlotte
“We need to write down everything we remember and make copies. We need to save and triple save all our photos.”
Alison and Lenny were sat in a corner booth table of The Queen Charlotte, empty tapas bowls of what had been extremely comforting fat chips, and honey roast sausages were stacked on a corner of the table. They still nursed their drinks, a glass of dark real ale for Alison, a glass of coke for Lenny. Alison was still writing, she had filled seven pages of a back-to-front Geography essay book, and Lenny was moodily drawing pictures of the creatures across several pages of his back to front Practical Geometry. As she finished Alison took pictures of the pages on her phone, Lenny did the same.
“Great Wi-Fi, and I love that it’s quiet too,” Alison said, uploading her photos.
“Good chips,” Lenny agreed. “I’ll go get some more.”
“No, you’ve had enough,” pulling him back into his seat. What Alison meant was that she had had enough deep fried food for one evening, and she did not want to be tempted by any more. Good Samaritan or no, she had to watch her figure.
“Did you tell your mum where you are?”
“Yeah, I texted her,” Lenny replied and held up his phone. Alison took his hand to check the messages just the same.
“And Dad says the company jet is parked in London, so I can use it if I want to fly out to the vineyard.”
“Your dad owns a vineyard, in France?”
“No, in California, and he has an office in Silicon Valley.”
“What is it he does, again?”
“Oh, Dad got in on the ground floor for Bitcoin, you know. Easy money really, but now he invests for other people. That’s easy money too, people are just so grateful, and it’s not as if he is giving them any of his money… anyway.”
Alison nodded.
“Go get some more chips, if you want,” Alison said, hoping she did not look as appalled as she felt. Lenny’s Dad must be truly loaded, yet here he was sharing a cheap supper in a sad pub with his short fat physics teacher. Okay, so maybe not very fat, but definitely short.
As Lenny returned and placed the chips between them, so the video screen on her laptop lights up.
“Okay, here comes Jasmin…” Alison handed Lenny one of two earpieces wired into the laptop.
“Listen, I can’t stay on long, we’ve got our own visitor now,” Jasmin whispered. “We’re found a few blogs from students describing monsters. And we grabbed as many photos as we found on social.”
Alison thought back, yes she remembered students taking photos in the café on the Mezzanine of the Arts Centre.
“You need to make copies,” Alison said bluntly. “Download and copy everything. The students are only allowed to use the school network for social. And well, the network is monitored by the school. Mainly for PR reasons, they don’t want any depressed student ranting from their bedrooms, but I’ve seen the local papers. My guess is that by tomorrow morning anything that deviates from the official line will have been deleted.”
“Okay, I get you. Yeah, we’re making copies,” Jasmin said. “What’s the official story, at your end?”
“They are saying an explosion in the chemistry lab,” Alison said.
“They are saying I did it,” shouted Lenny. “And I was just trying to protect us.”
“Molotov cocktails, yes? Very brave.” Jasmin said. “And only with the ingredients from a school lab, you should come work for us. We need people with imagination.”
Alison was about to say something, only then she saw the look of pure pleasure written across Lenny‘s face, possibly the first genuine smile the boy had ever given.
“We’ve written down everything we can remember,” Alison said. “Did you say they were coming back?”
“What here?” Lenny interrupted.
“No, the position of their craft is different. If anywhere, it will be West Coast or Hawaii. Look, I’ll send you a link, there’s some footage from the ISS, and a tracker. I gotta go. You said you have the body of one of the creatures? Is it safe?”
“Yes, it’s in the chapel,” Alison replied.
“Yes, but is it safe?” Jasmin repeated.
“The school has private security,” Alison replied. “The Chapel has solid oak doors, three-hundred-years old.”
“Hum,” Jasmin sounded unimpressed. “Listen, do you mind checking its secure before you go to bed tonight? And take some photos, send them here to me. And details of the security and anything else. We’ll probably send somebody…”
“If it’s still there,” Alison replied. “The school won’t want to keep the creature on the premises…”
“Just keep a track of where it goes, hey?” Jasmin begged.
As the call ended, Alison looked out the far window. As always Orion’s Belt hung bright in the night sky, she turned thoughtfully at Lenny:
“So fancy a late-night stroll?”
“Are we going to see monsters in the dark, prof?”
“Only a dead one in a chapel.” She answered.
“You’re sure he is dead?” Lenny asked.
“We don’t even know it’s a HE.” Alison replied with a smile.
Illustration: Orion’s Belt
Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka, are the bright bluish stars from east to west (left to right) along the diagonal in this gorgeous cosmic vista. Otherwise known as the Belt of Orion, these three blue supergiant stars are hotter and much more massive than the Sun. They lie about 1,500 light-years away, born of Orion’s well-studied interstellar clouds.
(NASA, Astronomy picture of the day, 2006 December 29)
Alnitak, Alnilam, Mintaka
Credit: Digitized Sky Survey, ESA/ESO/NASA FITS Liberator
Color Composite: Davide De Martin (Skyfactory)
Royal College Chapel
There was a policeman on the school gate. He checked Alison’s school ID and driving licence and nodded as she told him of some forgotten papers. She saw there were still lights on in the Chapel, and the 300-hundred-year-old oak door was unlocked.
So much for safety.
Alison and Jenkins entered. Only the nave lights were on. They crept through the darkness, the stone floor soundless under their rubber-soled shoes. Alison could hear but not see Mr Foster, the assistant head was speaking on the phone. There were the remains of sandwiches and drinks on a chapel pew. She ignored this. At the centre of the church before the alter, in the space where wedding vows were taken, the fallen alien had been stretched across two old doors propped up on black and yellow plastic trellis supports. She could not see the monster, just its mountainous shape, for someone had covered it with an aging crimson velvet curtain trimmed with gilt embroidery. It looked so much like pagan preparations of sacrifice to an ancient god.
McCreedy stood up where he had been stretched out, taking a nap on a pew.
“What are you doing here?” Foster asked.
“NASA asked me to check on the security for the creature.” Alison said.
“You know I had some bloke ring and offer me five million cash, said he would bring the cash and truck by 8am tomorrow?” Foster replied.
“You said ‘no’? Right?�
� Alison said nervously.
“Do you know how much money five million is, professor?” the assistant head replied tetchily.
“We have a hell of a job keeping the press out.” McCreedy added. “One even sent a camera drone in through the window where the stained glass is smashed.”
“Even that is going to cost a fortune to repair,” Foster complained. “Anyway, I told the police they had to find a solution. I mean having this thing here, it makes the school a target, for the press, for crooks, for who knows.”
“SETI says they’re coming back.” Alison said.
“What here?” McCreedy interrupted.
“No, no, their ship it’s on the far side of the planet, so not here.”
“Okay, well in that case this thing is going to Farnborough,” Foster snapped.
“Yep, Farnborough,” Agreed McCreedy.
“What’s in Farnborough?” Lenny asked.
“That’s the military space facility, isn’t it?” Alison said. “They have a very good Astronomy group down there.”
“It’s MOD Scientists at ground level, military robots and cybersecurity,” McCreedy said, “but I know one of the groundsmen, he says there’s about three stories underground. Top secret mind. But he knows it’s there, because he was telling me they have a nightmare in the winter keeping the air-conditioning functioning, what with the dry leaves, rain and snow too.”
“And it’s official British Government?” Alison said.
“Yes, some of their scientists have been to the school in the past, they gave talks to the students on physics and green power.”
“It’s the best we can do,“ McCreedy said.
She nodded to the cloth-covered creature.
“Can I take a look?”
“Take a corner,” McCreedy said nodding to the velvet. So she did, gently lifting the heavy material, with Lenny leaning in to help. They folded the cloth back to reveal the blasted head and burnt shoulders of the creature. As Alison peered at its face, she saw the lips were so badly charred, they were hanging loose revealing the yellow fangs beyond.
The face fur had been burnt back to the skin, but its eye was intact. Maybe it had closed its eyes against the blast.
“Eyes like ours,” Alison said. “You know how they say the human eye is such a miracle of evolution that it could be proof that God exists.”
“Nutters say that,” Lenny replied.
“But don’t you see - this creature has eyes like ours, and apart from that thin tube - they were all breathing our air.”
“They stole our trees,” McCreedy added as if that was all the proof that was needed.
“So do you think there are more of them?” Foster asked.
Alison stood looking at the creature. So many questions. So few answers.
“It’s magnificent,” she said. “And so sad, to be lain here dead, even in a church.”
Her phone beeped.
The call of her SETI What’s App group.
Foster frowned.
McCreedy sighed.
“Be-be, bee, bee beep.” Lenny said.
Alison reached for her phone.
“They’ve made landfall again.”
All three looked at her and waited.
“Sequoia National Park.” She replied to their unasked question, then turned to Lenny. “How long would it take your father’s jet to fly to California?”
Illustration: Chapel Angel
I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness
Where is death’s sting?
Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me
(Songwriters: Henry Francis Lyte / Will Henry Monk
Abide with Me lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group)
Denisse Leon, Unsplash
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Aliens in Sequoia National Park
Illustration. The Allen Telescope Array, California
Credit:
Allen Radio Telescope Array
Recommended Soundtrack: The Carpenters: Calling Occupants of Interstellar Craft
At precisely 2:04am, a red light lit up a distant control panel. A notification also appeared on Jasmin’s phone.
Please God. Just one moment’s peace she thought, as she slapped it quiet.
As the mechanical noise faded, so the sounds of the night amplified. Insects in the shadows chittered, a distant toad called for a mate, and the wind whispered as it passed through the Allen Radio Telescope Array, ‘the so-called eyes’ of the US Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence (SETI). It was as if the vast field of equipment had a human breath. Now with a click and a groan of steel all 42 dishes turned as one to scan a new area of the night sky, a brand new vista to explore and dissect, thousands of as yet unknown stars and systems to discover.
The only person watching is me, Jasmin thought as she leant on the railing of the deck.
“Always just me,” she spoke aloud to the emptiness. Was this it? Was this her life now? Years of standing watching a field of satellite disks pointing up. At what?
I love you, Jasmin, the memory of her sister’s voice seemed to echo on the night’s breeze.
I hate this, she thought. I hate myself. Why did I do it?
In a blink of her eye, she was plunging, hair whipping across her face as her faceplate snapped open. No, she heard herself scream but at the last moment she snapped her teeth shut as with practiced discipline she stopped herself remembering the concrete floor below.
It’s over. It’s past. This is it now. Standing alone in the cold, this is what you get.
Her phone jiggled in her pocket.
What now?
The screen lit up with her twin’s photo. Jasmin pressed ‘answer’.
“Short Arse!” She had meant to be funny, but tonight she sounded spiteful..
May must have noticed the tone as well, because there was a pause before she replied:
“Peg Leg!” the nick name was punctuated with a nervous laugh. Jasmin nodded and joined in. Forced laughter was still laughter, wasn’t it? Jasmin wondered as her ghost leg tingled, and she looked down to check. Yes her leg was gone, she wore a long prosthetic from her hip to the floor.
Smack! There it was: the memory of her crashing onto the smooth hard concrete. A fall that had ended her astronaut training and landed her amidst the Allen Telescope Array. The worst part was that while she fought her way through grueling physio just to walk again, her twin sister had hop, skipped and jumped through the tests, examinations and panel assessments until tonight she served as Science Officer on the International Space Station.
Okay. So her sister had made it. How much longer could she resent her?
Be normal. Act nice.
“How’s the view?” Jasmin said at last.
“I took some photos,” May replied. “I sent them to your phone.”
True enough, there was an unread message. Wish you were here, read the title.
For crying out loud, Jasmin despaired. So dreadfully unoriginal. And May was supposed to be a genius and a superwoman, that was the definition of an astronaut, no? Okay so May always said she had become an astronaut for her sakes. But had she really? All the striving, competing, just to prove one of them, the twins, the two Asian sisters, one of them was good enough? Now May had made it and with her success came endless ‘wish you were here’ messages.
Did May really think any of hers success co
uld make up for what Jasmin had lost?
“We just flew over Italy,” May said. “It really does look like a glittering boot.”
“We just moved the Array, ” Jasmin intercut, but May ignored her.
“You know if more people could see Earth from space,” May continued, and even as she spoke Jasmin’s phone buzzed and jiggled. Her attention drifted. “We would just appreciate our home planet so much more.” May finished but Jasmin peered again at a red flashing notification at the corner of her screen.
“Sorry May, it’s one of the system alarms.” Jasmin said. “I’m the only one on duty, I can’t ignore it.”
“Sure thing,” May’s reply had a hint of forced chirpiness to it, like she knew she was being dismissed. Jasmin felt a pang, why did she behave like that with May? “Go do your thing , Jasmin. You’ll do great, you always do.”
Jasmin paused. How did one response to such impeccable niceness?
Jasmin’s phone beeped again, this time May heard it too.
“Sounds like it’s urgent - maybe it’s aliens.” She laughed lightly.
Right, so now she’s making fun of me, Jasmin thought grimly.
“Yeah, well if it is aliens, you’ll see them before I do.” Jasmin sneered. Why could she never just have a normal conversation with May? At least May did not have appeared to have heard anything amiss.
“Go get ’em kiddo. One day you’ll be up here too.”
Aliens in Windsor Page 3
