Aliens In My Garden

by Jude Gwynaire

  ‘You might be right, old man,’ the Green Man replied. ‘You’d think he had a little sense, though. He looks quite intelligent...and what will he gain from doing it?’

  Zirca looked on and scowled. He wasn’t going to fall for that one.

  ‘Mayyybe, Mayyybe, but I know a coward when I see one,’ Big Red continued, trying hard to goad Zirca into a reaction. ‘Forget him, he’s not worth it.’

  The Green Man paused and scratched his bark-like head.

  ‘I think you’re right, old man. For an Astarian, he’s pretty lame.’

  ‘Absolutely. There’s really no mayyybe about it.’

  ‘Lame as they come, old man.’

  Celeste faced Alditha and groaned. She knew Zirca wouldn’t be caught that way.

  ‘You had to go giving him ideas about being taken seriously, didn’t you?’ she said to the witch. ‘Didn’t it occur to you that might make him even more stubborn?’

  Five minutes had passed since the stand-off. The dandelion wall had blown away, but Zirca had resolutely stood his ground and had decided not to say another word. Consequently, everyone had been hastily mustered into search groups, and were combing the area around the square. Even Big Red and the Green Man had been roped in—intent on playing rudimentary mind games with Zirca in an attempt to make him confess.

  “If you’re going to break someone’s arm, just break it.” Well, guess what? Turns out the same logic holds true for committing genocide,’ Celeste continued.

  ‘He’s a strange one, that Zirca,’ admitted Alditha.

  ‘Don’t know how long we’ve got or anything. How long till your Midsummer Hallowe’en?’

  ‘Been Midsummer Hallowe’en all day.’

  ‘You know what I mean—how long till the engine, the Hedge, does its thing?’

  Alditha looked at the now dark sky. ‘Any time, I reckon.’

  Celeste sighed. ‘He’ll have wanted time for whatever it is to have done its work before the fleet got here. Oh. Oh, that’s a bad thought.’

  ‘What?’ said Alditha.

  ‘We’re all assuming we’ll know when it happens, like it’ll go bang. Maybe it won’t—Zirca’s a chemist, after all. Maybe it’s already happened. Maybe we’re already breathing in poison that’s going to kill us.’

  Alditha frowned. ‘No use thinkin’ like that. Where there’s life, there’s a desperate need to kick probability in the shins, as my old mother used to say.’

  Celeste joined her in the frown. ‘Probability doesn’t have shins,’ she pointed out.

  Alditha smiled. They’d take some getting used to, these Astarians. ‘Could be worse,’ she said. ‘If we hadn’t caught him with dirt on his hands, we’d never have known he’d done anything. Would have gone to Midsummer Hallowe’en and not known, and prob’ly have died.’

  Celeste’s frown deepened. There was something- ‘Say that again,’ she demanded.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Say it again. There’s something...’

  ‘Could be worse,’ Alditha repeated. ‘If we hadn’t found him with dirt on his hands-’

  ‘That’s it. I know what to do,’ said Celeste. ‘Oh, I’m such an idiot sometimes. Alpha was mapping out the underground base, yes?’

  ‘Yesss?’ said Alditha, not seeing where the girl’s thoughts were going.

  ‘He’s a bio-mech. Our job was to find the Sleepers. To find Astarians and Astarian technology. Believe me, when we lost track of the orbs, I mentioned that to him more than once.’

  Alditha snapped her long fingers. ‘And this hoojamaflip that’s going to kill us all will be Astarian technology,’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re right, you know, you’re a bit of an idiot sometimes.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll remember that when it comes time to save all our lives.’

  ‘Oh, it’s come time. Believe me, it’s more than come time.’

  ‘Bio-mech Alpha, respond please.’

  Her headband glowed almost immediately, and Alpha’s voice came through. ‘Alpha receiving.’

  ‘Do a local area scan for Astarian tech, report any anomalous readings.’

  ‘Confirmed.’

  Sensing new activity, the Green Man and Big Red ran over to them. There was a moment’s silence when each of them heard only their hearts thudding—and when you had a heart as big as Big Red’s, that was saying something.

  ‘Tree-oid life form known as the Green Man has several Astarian power conversion balls in his possession.’

  Celeste shook her head impatiently. ‘No, I gave him those.’

  ‘Time-sealed object detected, six hundred metres southwest of your current location, buried one quarter metre beneath a rock.’

  ‘That’s it. Acknowledged. Thank you, Alpha,’ said Celeste, taking off at a run, followed close behind by Alditha.

  They found the rock easily, and, forgetting she had advanced technology to use, Celeste fell on her knees and started digging in the dirt furiously. When her hands found the sleek glass tube, she almost wept with relief. Then relief turned to stomach-churning fear. The read-out was counting down. She had only slipaways—minutes, she corrected herself—before the seal disintegrated and whatever was in the test tube was released into the air. Again, she found herself running.

  ‘Peridot, come in.’

  ‘Celeste, acknowledged.’

  ‘I’ve found it. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve found it.’

  ‘Excellent, well done.’

  ‘Meet me at your pyramid immediately.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Time-seal,’ she gasped. ‘Nearly out of time. Need a bio-chamber.’

  ‘Mali-Juna has those. Or Zirca, of course.’

  ‘Need a guide. Oh wait, Alpha, meet me at the pyramid we were in earlier, immediately.’

  ‘Confirmed.’

  ‘See you both in there,’ she panted, ‘less than a slipaway.’

  Her legs hurt by the time she got to the pyramid, but she didn’t stop, running to join the other two, who’d already taken their place on the elevator pad.

  ‘Down, down, down,’ she yelled. The pad smoothly began to drop through the earth. ‘Can’t this wretched thing go any faster?’ she muttered.

  ‘Not unless you feel like a long fall.’

  Celeste showed the time-seal to Peridot, whose green eyes flashed in alarm.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Celeste. ‘Just in case you think I’m worrying unduly.’

  ‘We’ll make it,’ Peridot assured her. ‘Not by much, but we’ll make it.’

  Celeste watched the timer countdown, hoping she was right.

  __________

  Jasper and Dramm had made it to the square, but were confused to find none of the usual merry-making going on. Jasper had witnessed innumerable Midsummer Hallowe’en celebrations in his time and knew something was wrong. The Hedge had begun to pulse with regular ripples of colour, but no-one was around. There was no singing, no dancing, no endless chatter. They didn’t understand—but facing the Hedge, Jasper knew what he had to do. It was nearly time.

  He thought back over his life spent in the Garden. It seemed a long time ago since he had first set up home here. Seasons had come and gone like leaves blowing in the wind, and still he remained living, like an old hermit guardian. He had always known that his role in the Garden would, one day, be an important one, but did others realize how important? He didn’t think so—not even Alditha. Nor did he imagine that they ever would realize, until...well, until maybe he was gone.

  He allowed himself the briefest of smiles as he reflected on how he knew the names of virtually everyone living in the Garden—yet found it unlikely that few residents, save Alditha, the Green Man, and some of the mages, even knew of his existence. Such was the life of his kind. It was what it was. There were plenty of other, lesser spell books, after all.

  Jasper thought again of Alditha. She had been an exceptional friend to him. He would miss her. He tried to remember all the spells and incantations he had provided for her over the years, and
all the spell books he had helped her to train, but the list was immeasurably long, and he had to give up after a few seconds. Feelings and sensations surged through him and lit his imagination like a bright, happy sun. In his bookish mind, he relived the time they had come across a dead scarecrow and brought it back to life using the Spell of the Ancient Fireworm, then danced with it through the Iron Meadows until sunset. Then there was the time Alditha had made a talking bat cake using lemon bats from The Forbidden Cave of Min. What fun they had trying to convince the Grogan Dust Trolls that the cake would not taste of talking lemons, only to surprise them by making it do just that.

  Then he remembered when he had first come to know himself—when he had first understood why everything in the Garden was as it was. After all, talking spell books, potatoes and green men weren’t an everyday occurrence, not in this part of multiverse anyway. Ho ho, he chuckled to himself in spellbook language. Wait till they all understand.

  Of one thing, he was sure, however—none of these memories would be lost after his inevitable demise. They would all be passed on...to another.

  Jasper took a deep breath and inhaled the scents and perfumes of the Garden. Parsley, lilac, sage, pine, new mown lawns, compost, summer bonfires...and the unmistakable smell of...quantum electricity. The old spellbook turned again to look at Stone Hedge. The colours were intensifying, branching out further. There was a shimmer just above the Hedge itself...

  No time to lose.

  Without further thought, Jasper opened his pages and beckoned Dramm to join him. Dramm hopped back, refusing, not understanding what was required of him. His pages ruffled, slowly. In answer, the blood spot emerged on both the elder book’s open leaves. Dramm rocked to and fro as if hypnotized—slumped forward a little, then trudged, as only a spellbook can, forward, backing his spine up against the fold of Jasper’s pages. Then Jasper slowly closed his pages around the little book.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, little one,’ said Jasper in the language of books—the words ran across his pages, and into Dramm. ‘I give all my knowledge to you. Soon, you will need it.’

  ‘But I am afraid, Mr. Jasper,’ Dramm replied, shedding a single golden tear onto his cover. ‘I don’t understand—what is happening? I wish Miss Alditha was here...’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s all going to be just wonderful,’ Jasper replied, in a way that only spell books could communicate. ‘Hush now, and learn...’

  The last thing Dramm saw before Jasper engulfed him completely was a frantic girl with a glass tube running into one of the pyramids dotted about the square.

  21

  ‘Peridot.’

  Peridot closed her eyes and mouthed an Astarian obscenity. ‘Quarka, not now.’

  ‘What’s going on? Who’s this?’ demanded Quarka, the Astarian geologist, his blue, almond-shaped eyes staring at Celeste.

  ‘It’s Celeste. Command sent her to find us. I’m not trying to be rude, Quarka, but we have to get to a lab, right this minute.’

  ‘What’s the hurry? Has Zirca sanctioned your lab time? I’m sure it’s not on the rota.’

  ‘We’ve been asleep for nearly seven thousand years. It’s been a little tricky to keep up with the rota. Oh Celeste, go, now.’

  Celeste didn’t need telling twice, she began to move. Alpha ran with her.

  ‘Wait a minute, somebody needs to bring me up to speed. I haven’t been told about this lab allocation. I’m not sure Zirca would approve.’

  ‘I’m absolutely sure he wouldn’t,’ muttered Celeste. ‘One slipaway. Is the lab near here?’

  ‘Left, left, right, right, left, door on the left. Go,’ said Peridot. ‘Good luck.’

  Celeste took off, and Quarka made to follow her. Peridot blocked his path.

  Celeste ran, Alpha following close behind in the narrow corridors.

  Left, she checked it off.

  Left, she checked the time-seal. Forty spangles.

  Right. Twenty-five spangles. You’re not going to make it. The thought tried to paralyse her, but Celeste shoved it down, deep down inside herself.

  Right. You’re really not going to make it. She swallowed hard, wasting precious spangles of the last slipaway any of them would know on this planet. And you know what that means.

  I can’t ask him to do that, she thought.

  ‘Celeste,’ said Alpha, ‘give me the tube.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Everyone will die.’

  ‘Everyone’s not you.’

  ‘Irrational. I am a part of everyone. We will all die. Give me the tube.’

  Celeste’s eyes were wet, and she clutched the tube tightly in her hand. Alpha reached out his spindly fingers and prised it from her. His chest opened up with a smooth hum—bio-mechs were designed to be entirely self-contained, sealed systems, so they could house data-pyramids if necessary over the long distances of space travel. He placed the tube inside his chest and his body closed back up.

  ‘I...’ said Celeste, but the words wouldn’t come. The tears rolled down her cheeks though. ‘Thank you,’ she squeaked.

  ‘Acknowl-’

  Alpha stopped abruptly. Celeste didn’t know what had happened to him, but she knew it was whatever Zirca had planned to happen to everyone.

  She cried.

  __________

  Alditha made it back to the square to find people already gathering. When the Hedge started pulsing intensely, it was like a hypnotic call; the Gardenfolk came to see it dance.

  She spotted Jasper in the front ranks, seeming to watch the Hedge, and wandered over to him.

  ‘Evenin’ Jasper,’ she said. She never quite called Jasper ‘sir,’ but often wondered whether she should.

  Jasper didn’t respond. That wasn’t unusual—he pretty much lived as a hermit, after all.

  ‘Happy Midsummer Hallowe’en to ya,’ she said, touching the brim of a hat that was no longer there. That needs to change, she thought. A witch with no hat is no witch at all.

  Jasper fell backwards suddenly, and Alditha turned back to him in shock.

  His pages had turned brown and brittle, and the fall snapped some of them like crackers.

  ‘Jasper.’

  Then Alditha saw him. Dramm. Standing still, where Jasper had fallen. He had a mark on both his covers.

  A red star with wings.

  __________

  Celeste had dried her tears and hauled Alpha’s body onto her shoulder. She retraced her steps, only to find that Peridot and Quarka were still arguing about her when she reached them.

  ‘How did it go?’ asked Peridot. ‘Did you-?’

  Celeste looked at Alpha over her shoulder.

  ‘Oh, Celeste, I’m so sorry.’

  Celeste sighed, nodded, and pushed on.

  ‘Just you wait a moment, Celeste,’ said Quarka.

  Celeste turned her eyes on him. ‘Go back to sleep, Quarka,’ she said, the energy drained from her voice. ‘You were more use as a Sleeper than you ever were awake.’ And she walked on, reaching the elevator pad.

  ‘Celeste, wait, I’m coming with you,’ called Peridot. But if Celeste heard her, she gave no sign of it. Peridot only caught her up as the pad began to move.

  They travelled to the surface in silence. As they arrived, they saw the Hedge flare with colour and light.

  __________

  In orbit, the ships of the Astarian fleet sensed the dimensions as they came into alignment. They scanned for the sign they were waiting for. The readings were confused. They set their engines to pick up the sign as soon as transmission was clear. For long minutes, no-one on board dared take anything but shallow breaths. Why did the signal not come?

  __________

  Celeste watched the Hedge with everyone else, but she felt more alone than she ever had. There was something of her missing, an Alpha-shaped hole in her life that she had no idea how to fill, even if she wanted to.

  Something nudged her leg and she looked down. It was a book, and apparently, it was alive.

  This pla
net is weird. Even by the universe’s usual standards, this planet is just weird.

  She stopped and looked at it. The book had the symbol of her own lost planetary system on its cover—the red star with wings, with a halo of planets around it.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, bending down and picking it up.

  The symbol rippled as she picked up the book, and colours flowed from the book, flowed up Celeste’s arm, over her face, into her hair. Colours that corresponded to the colours of the Hedge as it danced.

  ‘Oh,’ she said out loud. ‘Oh, I see.’ She reached up with her other hand, and in the crowd, the Green Man’s pocket unraveled without his say-so. One of the silver balls she had given him—ordinary power conversion balls—flew out of the bag and soared through the air, changing shape as it did so, lengthening, splitting, becoming a tool that no-one there entirely recognised. Of course, it looked something like the ceremonial Shears of Destiny the beggars usually used at this festival, but it was altogether a more daunting thing—it didn’t glitter or glisten, but it did definitely shine.

  Celeste held the book in one hand, the colour still flowing from its pages into her. She caught the flying Shears in the other hand and looked at the Hedge. ‘Yes,’ she said, as if it had asked her something. ‘Yes, I see,’ and she began to trim the Hedge—a snip here, a lop there, the colour and the energy aligning, not dissipating as it always did, but growing, becoming more complex, pulsing faster as she worked.

  Celeste felt the colour pulsing through her, felt the energy and the dimensions trying to tear her apart, pull her into a thousand million directions, a thousand million realities all at once. She swayed, danced with the Hedge, felt its purpose as her own, lopped, snipped, reducing the variables in the possibility matrix, reducing the pressure of the thousand million directions, focusing on the one, the one she wanted, the one that had the connection-point to home.

  She worked faster, and faster, the leaves of possibility fighting her, the dimensions pushing back against her work, but the book flooded through her, keeping her moving, keeping her in sync, and she began to win again, the numbers going her way, the colours and realities going her way.

  The rainbow of colour and light from the Hedge shot up into the night sky and exploded into a single thick beam of possibility like a huge cosmic firework.