Space Crime Conspiracy

by Gareth P. Jones

  The rest of the class set about scribbling away, but Stanley’s mind was blank. He had never been on holiday or on an aeroplane or done anything remotely exciting. He had spent his life above a grotty pub, dreaming of a world in which his mum and dad were still alive.

  He gazed out of the window, wondering if he should make something up, when he saw the odd little man from the bus stop for the second time. This time he was walking across the football pitch, through a game being played by Year 9, apparently unaware of what was going on around him. He was dressed in the same suit, only now his beard and hat were the right way around.

  ‘Is your mind on the task in hand, Stanley?’ asked Ms Foster.

  ‘There’s a weird-looking man on the pitch,’ said Stanley.

  ‘It must be Stanley’s dad, come to collect him from school,’ said Lance, causing the rest of the class to titter.

  Before the man got any closer, Mr Brooker, the PE teacher, accosted him and led him away.

  ‘Unless this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you, I suggest you get back to your writing assignment,’ said Ms Foster. ‘All of you.’

  The rest of the day passed without incident and Stanley had put the man out of his head by the time the final bell rang.

  As usual, he hid in the toilets long enough to give Lance Martin time to catch his bus. He checked his watch and decided it was time to go. It was quiet when he finally stepped out of the school gates and there was no one around to witness the odd little man leap out from behind a car and say, ‘Ah, Stanley Bound, I presume?’

  ‘Who are you? Why have you been following me? How do you know my name?’ asked Stanley, startled by the man’s sudden appearance.

  The man smiled and raised a hand. ‘You’ll have to slow down. I only learnt your language this morning.’ He spoke very clearly and with no accent. ‘My name is Eddington Thelonius Barthsalt Skulk.’

  ‘Your name is what?’ said Stanley.

  ‘Yes, it is a mouthful, isn’t it? My friends call me Eddie,’ said the man.

  ‘Why was your beard on your head before?’

  ‘Sorry about that. I was trying to blend in, but my secretary sent me the file upside down. Here, have a card. It’s written in lingomorphic writing so you’ll be able to read it.’ He pulled out a business card from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to Stanley.

  g

  Eddington TB Skulk

  First-Class Lawyer

  g

  Specialising in Intergalactic Law, Armorian Law, Pan-Dimensional Litigation and Criminal Prosecutions

  g

  ‘My number is on the other side,’ the man said. ‘They’ll allow you one call. I suggest you use it to call me.’

  Stanley turned the card over in his hand and saw the number.

  g

  3748473837983930450606706595828291829328

  6768749393202002198475856874595874945854

  1029298383484857576876875849393920201208

  4385865940930202039385859849406506707292

  4593938289203029190234321901209210921090

  g

  ‘Isn’t that too long for a phone number?’ he asked.

  The man took the card back and looked at it. ‘Oh dear me, yes, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t see that. There’s an extra zero on the end. How aggravating. That’s my secretary’s fault. Lovely girl, but no eye for detail.’ He took a pen from his inside pocket, crossed out the zero and handed the card back to Stanley.

  ‘Listen, Eddie, or whatever your name is,’ said Stanley. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have the wrong person. I don’t need a lawyer.’

  ‘Don’t need a lawyer?’ said Eddie. ‘My dear boy, if there was ever someone who did need a lawyer, it’s you . . . unless you want to spend four consecutive eternities on the prison moon of Trazalca. And believe me, you don’t. For the first couple of decades they’ll have you peeling stomfrots until your fingers bleed.’

  ‘Did you really just learn English this morning?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘Yes. Give me a call after they’ve arrested you.’ Eddie turned to leave.

  ‘Arrested me? But I haven’t done anything wrong,’ said Stanley.

  ‘Given the details of the case, I’d strongly advise against a plea of not guilty. The AIP will be coming for you shortly. Kevolo’s discovered your location, you see. A very good hiding place, this planet. It’s pre-contact, isn’t it? Who’d think of looking in this far-flung corner of the universe? I understand that this lot haven’t travelled any further than that rather pointless moon yet,’ said Eddie, pointing at the half-moon in the sky. ‘But you must have known the AIP would catch up with you eventually. Luckily for you, I have a man on the inside who was able to give me a head start.’

  ‘What’s the AIP?’ said Stanley, still wondering whether some grinning TV presenter with a microphone was going to leap out of a bush at any moment and reveal the hidden cameras.

  ‘The Armorian Interplanetary Police, of course,’ said Eddie. ‘They want to bring you in before you get picked up by a bounty hunter trying to claim the reward, or the League gets their hands on you.’

  ‘Look,’ said Stanley, ‘I don’t know what asylum you just escaped from but I think you should go back there and take whatever medication you need.’

  Stanley turned and ran to the bus stop. To his relief, Eddie didn’t attempt to follow. Instead he shouted down the road, ‘Don’t lose my number. You’re going to need me, Stanley Bound.’

  .

  4

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t let them know you’re hiding behind this car, Stanley Bound’

  Stanley sat by the upstairs window above the pub. Recently he had started playing a game that involved looking up so that all he could see was sky. He would imagine that he was somewhere else: in a desert, trekking up a mountain or on a boat in the middle of an ocean. Once he had pictured his imaginary surroundings in his head, he would look down in the hope that he had been magically transported there. He knew it was a stupid game. He didn’t believe in magic and the game always resulted in the disappointment of seeing that he was still looking out at the same quiet street in south London.

  However, this time when he looked down something was different. A circle of utter darkness appeared for the briefest of moments, and two men dressed in long black cloaks with hoods that covered their faces stepped out of it. Without a word or a glance, the two men each drew a staff from under their cloak and walked purposefully towards the pub.

  Remembering what Eddie had said outside the school, Stanley made a speedy decision. He ran to his room, which was at the back, opened the window and climbed out on to the kitchen roof, slid down the slope and clambered down to the backyard.

  He pushed open the gate and crept around the side of the pub, crouching down below a window and peeking in as the two cloaked men entered the pub. He was unable to hear what was being said, but he could tell that Old Bill was greeting them and he could see very clearly the look of annoyance on Doug’s face. ‘Stanley, get down here,’ he shouted up the stairs.

  Stanley tried to see the men’s faces, but they were obscured by their hoods.

  ‘Stanley Bound, you do not want me to have to come and get you,’ yelled Doug, starting up the stairs.

  Stanley ducked down behind the window. His plan was to wait until Doug came downstairs again and then slip back into the flat the same way he had got out, but he couldn’t hear what was going on inside the pub so he raised his head and, to his horror, found two sets of eyes staring at him. Without another thought, Stanley ran.

  He had no idea who the men were or what they wanted with him, but he felt certain of one thing: he could not let them catch him.

  The pub door slammed as the two men came out of the pub and took chase. They didn’t shout after him, but he could hear their footsteps behind him.

  Stanley ran as he had never run before.

  He turned a corner, and then another, trying his hardest to lose them.
He glanced over his shoulder and, seeing they were momentarily out of sight, he dived to the ground between two parked cars and waited.

  Looking under one of the cars he could see the feet of the two cloaked men come around the corner. He remained crouched down, his heart pounding. As the men drew level with him he edged around to the street side of the car.

  ‘Hello, Stanley. What are you doing crawling around in the road?’ said a familiar voice behind him.

  Stanley turned to see Lance Martin.

  ‘Please, Lance, be quiet, please . . .’ he whispered desperately.

  Lance glanced up and spotted the two men, ‘Oh, I see,’ he said loudly. ‘You’re hiding from these two guys, are you? Don’t worry, I won’t let them know you’re hiding behind this car, Stanley Bound.’

  Cursing him, Stanley ran full pelt back up the road, the men close behind. He felt one of them grab at his coat, but he wriggled free and ran across the road, narrowly avoiding being hit by a pizza delivery bike that whizzed past. This gave him a little distance from the two men, but he was growing tired.

  He turned another corner and saw that one of the men had somehow got in front of him. The cloaked figure stood on the other side of the road, with one hand on his staff. Stanley looked over his shoulder and saw the other man behind him. He was surrounded.

  Then, as if from nowhere, a police car screeched to a halt in front of him. The door swung open and a voice said, ‘In you get.’

  Stanley jumped in and slammed the door shut. The policeman in the driver’s seat put his foot down and the car accelerated away. Stanley turned around in his seat and saw that the two cloaked figures were standing in the road, staring after the car.

  .

  5

  ‘This isn’t the way to the station’

  ‘Thank you,’ Stanley said to the policeman.

  ‘No need to thank me. I’m just doing my job.’

  ‘Do you know who those men are?’

  ‘What men?’

  ‘The men chasing me – the ones you rescued me from.’

  ‘Nope, must have missed them, sorry. I’m Officer Grogun.’

  ‘Are you taking me home now?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘I’ll have to take you down the station before I do anything.’

  ‘What about the men?’

  Stanley noticed for the first time that the policeman was quite badly shaven. He had a thick covering of stubble on his face and a small silver earring in the ear that Stanley could see. ‘Not my concern, I’m afraid.’ He changed gear as he turned a corner and headed up a steep hill.

  ‘This isn’t the way to the station,’ said Stanley.

  ‘It’s a short cut.’ Officer Grogun grinned at Stanley and he realised that, since they had been talking, the policeman’s stubble had grown into straggly whiskers and they weren’t confined to his chin. Hairs appeared to be sprouting from his cheeks and forehead too.

  ‘What’s happening to your face?’ said Stanley.

  Officer Grogun put a hand to his chin and Stanley saw that the back of his hand was covered in hair as well. ‘Oh good, it’s growing back. I was worried that it wouldn’t. That happened to my Uncle Walt. He shaved his face once for a bet and it never came back. He was a laughing stock.’

  ‘Who are you?’ said Stanley.

  ‘I told you – I’m Officer Grogun of the Armorian Interplanetary Police.’ He showed his badge.

  Stanley felt a wave of panic rush through him. He tried the door but it was locked. Officer Grogun stopped the car at the top of the hill. It was a quiet residential road with a view of London in front of them.

  ‘Ah, now, ain’t that pretty?’ said Officer Grogun.

  ‘Let me out,’ said Stanley, still struggling with the door.

  ‘You’ve been very well behaved so far, Stanley Bound. Don’t start causing trouble now.’

  ‘How do you know my name?’ asked Stanley.

  Officer Grogun smiled. ‘Everyone knows your name. Now, if I were you, I’d take a good look. It may be your last chance.’ He pressed the button on the dashboard that would normally have turned on the hazard lights. Stanley watched in amazement as a circle of darkness appeared in front of them, just like the one out of which the cloaked men had appeared.

  ‘I suggest you hold tight. There appears to be some pan-dimensional turbulence in this sector of the cutspace entryspot at the moment.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘It might get a little bumpy,’ replied Officer Grogun, whose face was now completely covered with hair.

  He put his foot down on the accelerator and Stanley heard the wheels spin. The car lurched forward and drove into the darkness.

  .

  6

  ‘There’s not much point denying it. You were caught on camera while the speech was being simultaneously broadcast on over two thousand planets’

  For a moment Stanley had the strange and deeply unpleasant feeling that someone had turned his internal organs upside down and jiggled them around. The feeling passed and Stanley opened his eyes.

  London had gone.

  In its place were swirling pastel colours and strips of white cloud making constantly shifting patterns and shapes. Stanley had never experienced such silence before. Where he lived there was always noise, but here there was nothing, no engine sound from the car, no distant rumble of traffic, no police sirens or car alarms, no music from the pub jukebox, no wind rustling the leaves on the trees, no aeroplanes overhead. Nothing but the silent colours.

  ‘Where are we?’ he asked.

  ‘We’ve jumped into cutspace. The autopilot will get us to the Bucket in . . .’ Officer Grogun peered at the speedometer. ‘I think it’ll be a couple of hours, but they made this ship specially to blend in with that planet you were hiding on and I’ve lost the instructions.’

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘What do you think? You’re under arrest.’

  ‘Under arrest?’

  ‘Blast. Having to concentrate on getting this silly language of yours right, I completely forgot to read you your rights. Don’t tell Commander Kevolo. He’ll put me back on refuse duty. Here, lend me your ear.’

  ‘What?’

  Officer Grogun grabbed Stanley’s ear with a hairy hand, pulled on the lobe and drew a large gun from the glove compartment.

  ‘Get off me,’ said Stanley, struggling to get free from his grip.

  ‘Hold still.’ Officer Grogun pushed the gun against Stanley’s earlobe and pulled the trigger.

  ‘Ow!’ shouted Stanley, grabbing his ear and feeling what had caused him the sudden burst of pain. There was something hard in his ear. He looked at it in the rearview mirror and saw a small silver stud in his reddening lobe.

  When Officer Grogun next spoke Stanley heard two different sounds. One was a growling noise that came from Officer Grogun’s throat, the second was a voice that spoke the words: ‘That’s better.’

  ‘What have you done to me?’ asked Stanley.

  ‘It’s a universal translator. It means that you can understand anyone, no matter what language they use, and it means that I don’t have to continue speaking that ridiculous language they use on that planet you were on.’

  ‘You can’t just go jabbing holes in people’s ears without asking.’

  ‘Oh, quit moaning. Everyone’s got one.’ Officer Grogun pulled back his hair to show Stanley his own identical shiny stud. ‘Now, let’s get on with this, shall we?’ He cleared his throat, a noise that didn’t sound hugely different to his speech. ‘Stanley Bound, you are under arrest on suspicion of murder. Anything you say will be recorded and may be used against you in evidence. You have the right to a lawyer under the terms of the Armorian Interplanetary Order Laws.’

  ‘Murder?’ Stanley gasped. ‘Who am I supposed to have killed?’

  ‘Hah, good one.’ Officer Grogun laughed.

  ‘I’m serious. I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done.’
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br />   ‘OK, have it your way. You’re under arrest for the murder of the Armorian President, the most important man in the universe. You shot President Vorlugenar with an antimatter weapon while he was giving his annual State of the Universe speech last Wednesday.’

  ‘You must have got the wrong person,’ said Stanley. ‘I’ve never even been abroad, and I’ve definitely never heard of President what’s-his-name.’

  ‘Vor-lug-e-nar,’ pronounced Officer Grogun. ‘There’s not much point denying it. You were caught on camera while the speech was being simultaneously broadcast on over two thousand planets. Look.’

  He tapped a lever to the right of the steering wheel and a windscreen wiper came on. As it went back it left in its wake a TV screen. An elderly man with four arms stood on a podium in front of a star-studded background with some writing behind him that Stanley couldn’t understand.

  ‘Why has he got so many arms?’

  ‘I suppose it was so he could shake lots of hands. His predecessor had six sets of lips for kissing babies during election years. Now watch – you’re on in a minute.’

  President Vorlugenar was mid-speech. ‘. . . And so I have come to several conclusions regarding Armoria’s role in the galaxy today . . .’ he was saying when the stars behind him disappeared and a boy holding a gun stepped out from behind the backdrop and pulled the trigger. There was a pop as a bullet hit the president. The president stood for a moment in shock, locking eyes with the boy before fizzling away into nothing.

  The boy dropped the gun and vanished back into the darkness.

  ‘The president has been shot,’ shouted someone off-screen. Officer Grogun rewound the footage and paused it on the boy’s face.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Stanley.

  ‘That a confession?’ said Officer Grogun.

  ‘No, I mean it looks like me,’ said Stanley.

  ‘Does, doesn’t it?’ Although the boy was wearing clothes that Stanley had never seen, it was undeniably his face. ‘We’ve checked it all: species, eye colour, DNA codes . . . That, my little friend, is you.’