Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy

by Paul M Calvert

  “No, Bill, I can’t tell you everything until I’ve got to know you better. There're some things I’m just not ready to talk about yet, but I promise you that I’m no threat to you or anything you care for.”

  The two men held the gaze for several long moments before Bill dropped his eyes and picked up his glass again.

  “OK, Alex. That’s good enough for me. For now at least. Cheers.” He raised his glass for Alexander to chink against his own. “Now, about work, I had a few words on the QT with my commanding officer about you. Before the French government surrendered, quite a few of your French lads had already been shipped back home to continue the fight but now it seems the choice is yours as to if or when you go back home. Now, I don’t want you to go and would prefer it if you stayed here to look after Ena when I’m gone, but I understand you have to do your duty. So, if you are interested, he tells me he’ll have a word with a friend of his whose running RAF Hornchurch and is high up in the Air Force. Apparently, they are keen on finding new pilots and what with you being a flyer, I wondered if this might be something you’d fancy having a crack at.” Bill looked questioningly at Alexander.

  To give himself time to think, Alexander took several small sips from his pint glass before returning it to the table, asking who the friend of his commanding officer was.

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure of the name but I think it was Keith Park. I think the CO said he’s from New Zealand or Australia originally so I think he might know what it’s like to be a foreigner over here. As I said, he’s apparently a bit of a bigwig in the Air Ministry.” Bill looked at Alexander for an answer. “Did you want to give it a shot?”

  Alexander could sense Vimes desperately wanting to say something, but kept him blocked out. He nodded, “Yes, I do, Bill. Is Hornchurch far away?”

  “No, not as the crow flies but a bit of a bugger to get there from here. It’s near the end of the District Line and the headquarters are in Romford, which is a bit easier to get to. Like me and the barracks, I expect you will live on site but it’s convenient for you to get home when you are on leave and such like. I’ll let my CO know when I get back to barracks and get the ball rolling.”

  “What about Ena?” asked Alexander, pleased he understood the metaphor, “If both of us are away, where does that leave her?”

  Bill looked a little sheepish and took a swig of his beer before responding, leaning forward and speaking quietly. “Look, I think it’s all going to kick off pretty soon. This phoney war we’ve been fighting since last year is going to warm up very soon, you mark my words. I know some of the airfields have been bombed along with shipping in the Channel, but it’ll only take a cock-up on either side and they’ll start bombing the cities. I read what they did in Spain and saw first hand in France what those bastards are capable of, so I’m telling you, it’s only a matter of time before London gets bombed good and proper.”

  He took another drink before continuing. “I want Ena away from London. We’re too near the docks and gass-works here for my liking and I reckon they are going to be prime targets. Proper pasting they’ll get too. They’ll be a lot of bombs off target and they’ll be bombing civilian targets too, once it all starts.”

  He looked at Alexander, his face showing a rare mixture of pleading, anticipation, and resignation.

  “Now look, if you’re accepted into the RAF as a pilot, with what you know they’ll probably make you an officer. I can rent a nice little place out in Dagenham for the same money as I’m paying here, away from the bombs and Ena can move there, safe as houses. You can come and stay on your days off.” He looked at Alexander, his keen eyes trying to read what the answer might be. “It’d be easier for you to keep an eye on her, you see. I’ve been making some enquiries. She’d be safer than staying here and can get a job in the Stirling works in Dagenham or somewhere nearby. Lot’s of work over that way as everyone’s switching over to war production.”

  Alexander leaned back in his chair and thought through what Bill had said. On some of his long walks he’d seen the preparations for war everywhere; sandbagged buildings and anti-aircraft guns set up in many of the parks and open places, blackout blinds in every house and sticky tape stuck on many windows to help prevent flying glass in the event of a bomb going off nearby. He’d noted the absence of young children and had learnt many of them had been sent away or were still being sent away out to the countryside for safety. Bill seemed to have an excellent grasp of all things military and Alexander wouldn’t dismiss lightly anything he said. He decided to let Vimes through to hear his opinion.

  “About time too,” Vimes sounded in his head, the tone clearly indicating he was annoyed with having been suppressed. “Fortunately, what Bill is saying and your reactions to it have made perfect sense. Bombing will eventually spread to London, of that I have no doubt. Although flying one of their primitive craft isn’t without risk, with my help and your enhanced physical capabilities, it seems a good choice. Once the war is over, you will have merged yourself into their society very well and would no doubt qualify for citizenship. I’ll send a drone over to the airfield tonight for a better look.”

  Using his perfect recall, Alexander pictured again in his mind's eye what he’d read two weeks previously in The London Gazette, a quaint newspaper that could be purchased from roadside sellers or in small shops called newsagents. The Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, had made a speech in Parliament, following what was called the “Miracle of Dunkirk” and the words had moved him almost to tears, reminding him of his home and the Empire. Not for the first time, Alexander regretted that communications here on Earth were still so primitive, for he very much would have liked to have seen Churchill speak those words, but unfortunately, nothing was available, just the radio and the speech hadn’t been broadcast yet.

  “Do you think Ena will move, Bill?” he asked.

  “I don’t think she’ll be sorry to see the back of this place. In the road I have in mind to rent, the houses are almost new and actually have inside toilets. Fancy that. She’ll appreciate not having to go out into the cold and rain,” he replied, confidently.

  Alexander nodded, picturing again in his mind what he’d read weeks previously in Ramsgate's main library on how to fly these primitive aeroplanes. Technically, he knew what the various controls and foot pedals did, but knowing and doing were two different things. Fortunately, between Vimes and his enhanced nervous system, he could form muscle memory at an accelerated rate, providing he survived the first few minutes of flight. In addition, he’d had experience of hang-gliding on Capital and hoped that when everything was added together it would be enough.

  “You alright, Alex?” asked Bill, recognising the distant look that came over the young man from time to time.

  “Sorry, Bill, I let my mind wander a bit there,” Alexander responded, “I was wondering when your CO might have an answer for me.”

  Bill shook his head. “Sorry, son, I’m just a Sergeant whose CO owes him a favour or two, but there’s limits to how far I can push this one through. A couple of days, perhaps a week. I just don’t know.”

  The two men sat quietly, each taking an occasional sip of beer, lost in their own thoughts for a while, one thinking of war and whether he and his daughter would survive the coming storm, the other simply worried about how would fit in and find his way home.

  The following Saturday, Ena was not working and surprisingly asked Alexander if he wanted to go for a walk and picnic in Southwark Park, something which took him by surprise and made him wonder if Bill had spoken to her. It was a fine, sultry summers day and Ena was wearing a light cotton dress, brightly coloured with a flower pattern. He noted the large wicker basket on her arm, a white and blue cloth covering the food she’d made for them to eat and asked if he could carry it for her. She nodded and to his surprise smiled up at him. Ena handed it over and for a moment their hands touched on the basket’s handle, sending an electric shock through Alexander’s body that rendered him speechless for a s
econd. Oblivious to what Alexander had just felt, Ena walked to the front door and opened it for him to pass through, locking it behind them and checking the handle just to make sure. A couple of strangers walked passed, both looking at Alexander for a second before turning back to each other and continuing their conversation. This behaviour was really starting to annoy him and he’d be pleased to get away from the crowded streets here. After his talk with Bill, he’d asked Vimes if it was possible for him to alter his skin’s melanin production to try and blend in a bit better, but was told it would take between one or two weeks for his body to safely remove the levels in his skin cells and even then, he’d be left with a tan.

  “The good people of London had just damn well have to get used to me being the way I am for a while longer,” he thought to himself, giving Vimes the go-ahead.

  “How far is it?” Alexander asked after they’d been walking for fifteen minutes, enjoying the warmth and sun on his face and all the while trying to work out what was behind the sudden change in her attitude towards him.

  “Another mile, Alex, about fifteen minutes at this pace,” she replied, turning to look at him for the first time since they’d left the house. Most of their walk had, so far, been conducted in silence, with Alexander unsure how to instigate conversation. Her offering to walk with him was a good start, if unexpected, and he was reluctant to be the first to talk in case he said something wrong. Whilst his understanding and grasp of English’s nuances had come on in leaps and bounds, he still made the occasional mistake, much to people’s amusement.

  “Alex,” Ena began, waiting for him to respond.

  “Yes, Ena, what is it?”

  “Bill told me last night exactly what you did for him and his boys back in France.” She stopped walking, forcing Alexander to do the same. “I didn’t know. He’d vaguely mentioned before that they’d picked you up and that you’d helped them and such like, but hadn’t gone into details. He rarely talks about what he gets up to in the Army. Doesn’t like bringing it home or worrying me, I suppose.”

  Ena moved closer and put her hand on his forearm. “Thank you for saving him and I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant.” She paused, her eye’s betraying for a moment the pain she was obviously still feeling, then went on, “Since mum died I find it hard to make small talk as everything just seems so inconsequential. He told me you had asked him if you'd done anything wrong as I’d been distant with you.”

  Alexander watched Ena’s face as she took a deep breath and forced herself to continue.

  “Anyway, I just wanted you to know I’m sorry about that. I’m also really grateful for what you did for Bill and I’ll try and be a bit nicer, but it’s difficult to let people get close anymore. There, you have it,” she finished, giving his arm a gentle squeeze before letting go and began walking again, leaving Alexander with no choice but to hurry after her or get left behind.

  Alexander decided to keep a straight face, even though on the inside he was smiling broadly, but something told him now was not the time to look self-satisfied, nor press his luck by talking too much although he felt some sort of response was called for. He caught up with her.

  “Thank you, Ena, that was kind of you to let me know and I’m glad I hadn’t done anything to upset you. Has Bill spoken to you about anything else?”

  “Oh, you mean the move to Dagenham and your possible enlistment with the RAF? Yes, he told me the same evening, after you two got back from the pub, slightly worse for wear. There’s not much for me here anymore and with him going back to barracks on Monday and you enlisting, well, it seems a good idea. The air should be cleaner there too. Did he tell you about the posh inside toilets?”

  The last mile went by quickly and soon they entered the park and headed left towards a boating lake and duck pond. Several anti-aircraft gun emplacements could be seen, dug in carefully with log lined palisades, their barrels pointing north-east towards the nearby docks. A queue of people, mainly couples, waited patiently at the boating pavilion for a turn in one of the small rowing boats. By mutual agreement, Alexander and Ena kept walking along the footpath, further into the park. It wasn’t long before they came to a series of allotments which had been set aside as part of the “Dig for Victory” initiative Alexander had seen advertised in the newspapers. Quite a few men and a few women were hard at work tending their little plots, several of the older men wearing knotted handkerchiefs on their heads to protect them from the hot sun. Although Alexander didn’t have any frame of reference by which to judge, everyone assured him how warm, dry and sunny the weather had been so far. “These English are always talking about the weather,” he thought to himself.

  It wasn’t long before they reached their destination, an ornate black and white, wrought iron bandstand that had seen better days, set amongst a mixture of trees in a large clearing. A number of uniformed, black-clad musicians wearing hats with red rims were playing their instruments, while another, obviously less talented member, walked around the deckchairs and crowd of assorted listeners, looking for donations.

  Alexander pointed to the players, who looked as though they were in some sort of military. “Who are they, Ena?”

  “They’re the Salvation Army. Do you have them in France?”

  “Er, no, I don’t think so,” he replied, curious as to what they actually did. “What does the Salvation Army do, are they medical people?

  Ena chuckled, her face lighting up as she did so, reminding Alexander of a sun suddenly appearing from behind clouds. “I thought everyone knew about the Sally Army,” she said, pulling him by the arm towards a dry looking patch of grass just off the main path. “They do charitable work and fight the good fight against Satan and the demon drink.”

  Alexander opened his mouth to ask her to explain, then shut it again, not wishing to look stupid. This made Ena laugh out loud.

  “I’m sorry, Alex, but you do look so funny sometimes when you try to understand things. They are a religious group that does good works amongst the poor. They are very popular around here for they help out when no-one else does. It was hard during the late twenties and early thirties and if it wasn’t for their soup kitchens, many would have gone hungry.”

  Ena looked at Alexander, her brown eye’s shining brightly, making him wonder why he hadn’t noticed before the fierce intelligence hidden behind them.

  “Bill even played in their band on Sundays when I was younger. He played the harmonica and could even manage a reasonable tune on the trumpet. I went to their Sunday school lessons but then Bill went away with the Army and it was just me and mum and I sort of drifted away from all of that. After she died, God and I went separate ways. Did you know Bill and me mum both met at a Sally Army dance?”

  Alexander shook his head, making a note to ask more about this sort of social event when the time was right.

  She pulled a thin, neatly folded blanket out from the bottom of the basket and laid it out on the grass for them to sit on, then began pulling out a thermos flask, some sandwiches, and two apples, setting them down between them on the blanket.

  “I’ll be mother,” she said, unscrewing the cup from the thermos and pouring out a generous amount of hot, steaming tea, handing it to Alexander with another smile that turned to laughter when she recognised that familiar look of confusion on his face. “Don’t get scared, “I’ll be mother” means I will pour the tea, silly.”

  She looked at the thermos, then quickly rummaged in the bottom of the almost empty basket.

  “Bother, I forgot to bring another cup. Sorry, we’ll just have to share or take turns. Do you mind?” she asked, looking into his eyes.

  “No, not at all,” he replied, taking the proffered cup, quickly setting it down because it was so hot, making her laugh again.

  “You men just don’t know how to handle hot things, do you?” she asked, her eye’s twinkling in the sunlight. “Look.” She picked up the cup and held it firmly, the heat not seeming to bother her one bit. “It’s from doing all the washing
and picking up hot things in the kitchen; gives you asbestos fingers.”

  Ena turned away to watch the musicians, sipping on the tea and stretching out her long legs on the blanket. Alexander did the same, noting for the first time with surprise, just how shapely Ena’s were, in fact, what an attractive and complex young woman was sitting next to him. Perhaps she sensed his interest or attention somehow, for she looked across at him over her shoulder and smiled, before turning away.

  “How long has it been, Alexander?” asked Vimes quietly.

  “What do you mean?”

  Vimes sighed. “How long has it been since you had fun with a lady, Alex? Six months, a year? I can tell you exactly if you want. Don’t let a shapely ankle, nicely turned calf or a lovely smile give you any ideas. Bill would not take kindly if you messed with her affections, even if you had the best of intentions. From what I have observed, sexual customs and mores here on Earth seem to be radically different to those back home. Here, sex seems to bring with it a great deal of emotional attachment.”

  “For goodness sake, Vimes, I was just admiring her legs and…I’d not really noticed before how pretty she was. For weeks, I didn’t think she liked me. It’s come as a surprise, that’s all.”

  Vimes chuckled in Alexander’s mind. “Now I know you like her. As their famous bard might have said, “methinks you doth protest too much.” He chuckled again, bringing a wry smile from Alexander.