by A K Lambert
‘That was spectacular,’ Amanda muttered, more to herself.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I think so.’ For the moment she felt more embarrassed that physically hurt, but it didn’t take long to realise she was. ‘My ankle—ouch.’
He tentatively reached out his hand. ‘Here, let me help.’
She sat up, reached out, took his hand and managed to get up, bearing her weight on her good foot. She carefully tried her other foot, but it was having none of it. ‘Sorry, I can’t walk. Let me sit down for a while and try again in a bit.’
He stepped back, and she was able to get a better look at him. He was tall and slim, though he looked strong. He wasn’t what you would call handsome. His mouth sloped to one side, and his nose had come second best in a fight or something. His jet-black hair seemed to have a mind of its own, growing in all different directions. But his striking blue eyes brought it all together, making him not altogether unpleasant looking.
He knelt down and started undoing the laces of her shoe. ‘I’m Jonathan. Pleased to meet you.’ She winced as he gently removed her shoe.
She looked directly at him. ‘Amanda,’ she said. ‘I’m staying up at the hall. My parents are visiting. They’re old friends of Squire.’ She looked down at her foot. ‘You should have left my shoe. It stops the swelling.’
‘Mmm, you’re probably right. I can put it back on if you prefer.’
‘No, that’s all right,’ she liked his singsong Irish accent. ‘What are you doing here? This land is private, and you’ve caused me to crash.’
‘I may have distracted you, but this fellow,’ he pointed at the hole in the ground, ‘is the bad boy here. So why didn’t you try to ride around it?’ His wry smile softened the crookedness of his mouth.
‘You should be aware, sir, that I am a guest here, and you are trespassing,’ Her rigid posture was now looking a little staged. ’And you still haven’t answered my question.’
‘I ride in the hills over there,’ Jon replied.
‘On that old thing?’ Amanda looked down at his mud stained bike. ‘It doesn’t even have a basket on the front.’
‘No, but it does have two wheels that work.’ He was looking across to Amanda’s very poorly-looking front wheel. ‘I slip through the fence to relax and enjoy this view. God’s work, I think, not the Squire’s.’
Jon rigged up his bike with a sling hanging from the handlebars to support Amanda’s leg. He helped her on, slipped her injured leg through the support and started to walk her back to Harewood Hall.
‘This will be the closest I’ve ever been to the hall, what’s it like inside?’
‘It’s big,’ Amanda replied. ‘And full of old fashioned furniture and paintings everywhere. My father’s friend bought this place at the beginning of the year. He comes from Norway, or somewhere, with his wife, daughter and servants. Their daughter’s name is Grace. She’s a year or so older than me, but she’s not allowed out yet. Been ill or something.
Jon listened as Amanda chatted away about this and that. He was getting tired. The path to the hall was slightly uphill. He noticed one of the groundsmen putting up what appeared to be a lamppost. ‘Strange place to put a light,’ he said.
Amanda looked over to where it was being erected, in the middle of a small thicket of trees. ‘Who knows. They’ve been putting them up everywhere, she said. ‘Oh, there’s Krankel.’
Jon froze. Standing directly in their path was the biggest dog he’d ever seen. It had the look and colouring of an arctic wolf, mostly white, but flecked with dark hair, giving it a dirty appearance. Its ears pointed upwards, showing acute attentiveness, and it had extraordinary sapphire blue eyes. It must have been taller than a Great Dane. It stared at Jon, apprehensiveness bordering on aggression. Jon stepped back instinctively, exposing Mandy to the dog.
‘Krankel, you great big ball of fluff. Come here.’
Krankel’s gaze softened, and he lumbered over to Mandy. Jon could now see more grey-brown wispy streaks in his white coat. Mandy leant over and put her arms around the dog’s neck and hugged him. ‘Did the naughty boy frighten you Krankel? Yes, yes, he is a mean naughty boy.’ She looked back at Jon with a big smile on her face.
‘What is that?’ Jon asked. ‘It’s massive.’
‘His name is Krankel. He’s Grace’s dog. Apparently, he’s a rare breed from northern Sweden or somewhere like that, and he’s one of the biggest ever seen. Aren’t you Krankel? You’re a big boy, aren’t you? Stroke him, Jon.’
Jon stroked the dog’s off white crown, an action that seemed to please them both, then continued leading Mandy to the hall.
As they approached the grand arched door with faded brass fittings, it opened, and a couple appeared that Jon guessed were Amanda’s parents. Krankel, seeing the door open, sloped inside.
‘Amanda, darling, what have you done?’ her mother asked.
‘I fell off my bike. My foot is swollen... it hurts.’
Amanda’s father picked her up in his arms. ‘There, there, darling, we’ll soon get you sorted. Who is the young man?’
‘Careful with her dear.’
‘I’m Jon, sir.’
A short man with short spiky hair came out. His stocky demeanour gave him an air of authority. His penetrating stare made Jon feel guilty. He remembered he’d been trespassing.
‘Thank you, Jon,’ Amanda’s father said.
The short man’s manner softened. ‘And I thank you too, Jon. That was excellent of you to bring Amanda back here. I’d invite you in but I’m afraid the house is in chaos at the moment with work going on, but if you’d like to pop over tomorrow at lunchtime we can thank you properly for rescuing Amanda, and you can meet my daughter Grace as well.’
‘Thank you, sir. I’ll look forward to it’ Jon’s immediate and confident reply surprised even himself. ‘Amanda’s bike is still down by the lake. The wheel is rather buckled.’
‘I can get that, Squire,’ offered a man who was standing no more that two metres directly behind Jon. As Jon turned, the man’s gaze met his. His smile was broad, but there was a look—just for an instant—was it suspicion, or was it something more?
‘If you would Peter, please do,’ the Squire said. ‘And take it to Gordon to see if he can repair it. Will one o’clock be all right, Jon?’
Jon nodded and jumped on his bike a little too quickly, nearly stumbling. ‘One o’clock it is.’ And with a final glance at Amanda he headed off back into the woods.
Chapter 8
Prof. & Mrs. Walker
Earth - England - 2002
* * *
The door closed behind them, and Professor George Walker carried Amanda away to find Lady Gwyneth to attend to her ankle.
‘Just a local boy.’ Ann Walker turned to Squire Douglas Faulkner. ‘Shouldn’t be of any concern.’
‘I agree,’ he said. ‘The work to secure the hall and grounds will be finished by this evening.’
Ann smiled and went to find her injured daughter, leaving Douglas Faulkner in the grand entrance hall. He looked around at the flurry of activity and paused to reflect on the last four months since they’d arrived in this system. In a few hours, they would finally be secure and fully hidden within Earth’s society. The hall and grounds’ cloaking system would hide any trace of their alien nature, acting as a defensive shield against any assault and entirely concealing the sphere that had brought them here, visually and from any Trun detection methods.
They wouldn’t have got to this point without the help of Prof. and Mrs. Walker.
Prime remembered their arrival in this solar system. After a cramped two-year journey, they had made a base near a giant asteroid about 60,000,000 miles away and began studying Earth. They dispatched two probes. One was positioned close to the planet, attaching itself to a redundant satellite. This probe was a data gatherer and would start sweeping the world’s databases. The second was a relay booster positioned halfway between the planet and the sphere.
/> The first thing they needed to address was their physical differences from Earth’s indigenous population. Earth was not the first possible destination on their journey. Their direction of travel had taken them past several planets that had suitable ecological conditions. They had spent time at two of them but decided they were undesirable. Earth was the first that had evolved on a similar course to Preenasette, with Homo Sapiens becoming the dominant species. Near identical atmospheric pressures meant they were of similar stature. Many of their differences—their slender form, smaller nose and ears, and their head cap—could be altered with some solid holographic manipulation. A padded suit that would look and feel like the real thing. Hiding protruding bits was a whole different game and thankfully would not need addressing. But the holographic process was only able to deal with primary colours and a few subgroups. Replicating the wealth of colours that made up skin tone would require serious effort to find a solution. Then, and only then would they appear human.
While the Life Team looked into refining their appearance, the ship’s Artificial Intelligence began the task of gathering vast amounts of information. Languages, cultures, history, economics, everything required to form a gigantic snapshot of this planet. Pertinent information was then filtered and compressed into manageable data packages, tailored to the specialities of each of the Life Team members. The data packets—the size of a fingernail—were surgically inserted into the back of the neck. Tiny, preprogrammed access conduits then weaved their way to the requisite parts of the brain, allowing neural access to the database. It required some weeks for the information source to be entirely integrated. Unfortunately, all the information in the world wouldn’t produce a human replica that would merge seamlessly into Earth’s society. They were still missing many characteristics—the human touch. Anyone seeing their first attempts would find them decidedly comical. Downloaded entertainment such as ‘Mork and Mindy’ had shown them that. They needed more help to become, or appear to become, human. That’s where Prof. and Mrs. Walker came in.
Bala Prime, or Douglas Faulkner as he would come to be known, leader of Princess Tauriar’s Life Team, set the parameters for an algorithm the ship’s AI would use to select possible candidates to help them. ‘Find me a male and female couple of a mature age range, say between thirty-five and fifty-five of their years. I want proof of compassion towards their fellow humans. Reasonable IQs, in the seventy to eighty percentile. A reasonable level of affluence, same percentile range. Proceed,’ Moments later the AI responded. ‘0.4652% of population: 16,457,000 couples,’ Prime scratched his chin; they must be very cramped down there. ‘Continue filter. An interest in astronomy.’ After all, they would be meeting real aliens, he thought. ‘And political influence would be useful. Narrow down percentile bandwidth further as well, to get to fifty couples.’ The AI duly accommodated and data packed their information into a temporary link. Prime leisurely reviewed each couple and shortlisted eight candidates. There was little to choose between them, but one couple stood out. They had something that none of the others had and that he should have filtered into his search much earlier on but didn’t think to—a daughter of similar age to the Princess and a potential friend.
George Walker, a professor of astrophysics, was always a believer. A believer that we are not alone. His study of the stars told him that there was life out there—the maths of probability confirmed it. An estimated two hundred billion stars in our galaxy. And of the nearly infinite number of planets circling them over four billion capable of sustaining life. The chances of a planet following the development path of Earth were close on endless. Life must be out there. But he was also a scientist and understood the vast distances between the stars and the limitations on travel within a lifetime. He believed they were out there, but that they were never destined to meet.
He met Ann Sotherby in Africa, during a gap year after he’d completed his doctorate. He was travelling, doing voluntary work and entered the Meheba refugee camp in Zambia and there she was. She was also travelling after having finished her Masters degree in Political Studies. They left there together three weeks later, and were never separated again.
Ann and George Walker were in the kitchen of their four-bed farmhouse in Ottershaw. just southwest of the M25. It was the first day of the Easter recess of the Houses of Parliament, and Ann Walker MP was enjoying a lovely day doing nothing and being as far away as possible from her London bolthole. She was reading the Times while George started their supper. Their thirteen-year-old daughter Amanda was away having a weekend sleepover at a friend’s house.
George finished preparing the meal and popped it into the oven, and was tidying when the doorbell rang. ‘I’ll get it,’ he said. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’ Ann shook her head. He opened the door and saw no one. He went outside and looked either way. Nobody. He thought he heard a buzz above him, but when he looked up, saw nothing.
‘Who is it dear?’ asked Ann.
‘There’s no one here, must be the doorbell on the way out.’ George pressed it a couple of times, then walked back through the hallway into the kitchen and returned to the tidying up. There was a noise behind him followed by a low humming. They both turned towards the sound and were shocked to see a ghostly figure standing in front of them. A small man, under a metre high, stood there smiling broadly at them. Ann instinctively moved closer to George.
‘George Walker, Ann Walker. Please do not be alarmed. You are not in danger. I visit you in peace.’ He was expansive with his arm movements. ‘Please listen to me.’ George put his arm protectively around Ann, and they both stepped back. The small figure looked up at George and Ann with a puzzled expression. He leant forward, touching something that was out of the holographic domain and immediately doubled in height, causing them both to step back even further. ‘Sorry, scale adjustment,’ he smiled.’ Even the technology in our slightly more advanced society plays up.’
Ann was first to speak, as George was still in semi-shock. ‘Who are you? And what do you want?’
‘My name is Prime of Bala Verceti from the planet Preenasette. That is my best translation of our names into your language. We come from the Alpheratz system, as your astronomers would call it,’ He looked directly at George. ‘George, you’ve spent years looking up at the stars, dreaming of what might be out there. We are your dream come true.’
George looked into Ann’s eyes and saw the same astonishment he felt. He tried to gather himself. The alien, if it was one, appeared very human, though its skin did have a slight but definite blue tint He looked at Ann. She was the professional speaker here, but it was evident she was leaving the next response to him.
‘So, what is this device here?’ Was that the best you could think of? he admonished himself. He recovered quickly, pointing to the globe on the floor projecting the image. ‘A hologram transmitter? Where are you?’
‘That is a transporter globe; the hologram transmitter is within it. I’m about sixty million of your miles away,’ Prime replied. ‘I’m on my ship, my vessel, with the rest of my party. There are eleven of us. A probe we have in your Earth’s upper atmosphere is transmitting this holo message via a relay station midway between us.’
He was so polite and engaging. Ann was finding it pretty difficult to be afraid of this genie from a bottle. ‘Is this your first contact? If so, why us, and not a government?’
’You will understand the answer to that question, Ann Walker, when I have told you our story. Would you care to sit down? I know you should be asking that question in your home—I have studied your customs in great detail—but, if you sit down, then so can I. And, if you don’t mind, I’ll revert to my natural form. Our attempts at looking like you still need a lot of work—things are pinching me here and there.’ He remained standing, waiting for them to reply.
George edged another chair around, and both of them sat down, backs to the dining table. ‘Yes, to both,’ he said.
Prime touched a small object to the side of him, and his transform
ation was instantaneous. The Walkers spent a moment studying him, his features appearing recognisable in both forms.
He sat down. ‘I hope you don’t find me too scary, though the rest of my team I can’t vouch for.’ His smile was now mischievous. There was a rumble of muted voices from off screen.
‘Are they all there?’ George asked.
‘Yes,’ said Prime. He leant over again, touched something, and the holo-projector started to pan around. ‘Temper, Seca, Jobe, Soff, Taur-Mao, Taur-Dao, Rosa, Mika, Campazee and Princess Tauriar.’ As he was introducing them, they each either nodded or gave a little wave. He’d paused the projector for a bit longer on the Princess. George could see she was much younger than the others, closer in age to their daughter Mandy, he estimated. She had bright, curious eyes and was obviously trying to hold back from smiling—unsuccessfully as it happened. The 360-degree rotation ended back at Prime. ‘Can I pass you onto my second in command, Temper, who will tell you our story?’
The projector moved slightly to bring Temper into view. She was smaller than Prime, with much softer facial features. An adornment on her right cheek appeared to George to be a red tattoo marking. She smiled. A warm and inviting smile. ‘Hello. I’m Bala Temper, the second in command of our Life Team. But what you must understand is that I am the real force behind the team, Prime is like a father figure that we all just about tolerate.’ Temper smiled and winked, though the wink looked somewhat manufactured. ‘The literal translation Life Team may not sound quite right to you, but we are a team with the sole purpose of educating, training and protecting our Princess, Tauriar. We’ve done it from shortly after her birth and will carry on until she is forty of our years old. When that time comes, Princess Tauriar will become one of a ruling council of four that govern all aspects of the realm of Bala Verceti. It has been a great tradition in our world for the last three hundred years. There are always two princes and two princesses, or Royals—as we call them collectively—in training.
