‘Won’t they detect the communicator?’
‘They certainly will,’ said Malik. ‘Which is why I will then drop you back at the SCIF and you will deny you ever knew I was anything other than a policeman and I will, with the delightful fricatives of my constricted throat, run like fuck.
‘Just stall,’ he went on. ‘Tell them they’re going to change their minds. Wait for the pressure to build.’
‘They have petitions on alien planets?’ said Connie. ‘Amazing.’
‘The Extractions will get behind you,’ said Malik. ‘They will. And seniority will rescind.’
‘You seem very sure,’ said Connie.
‘I have faith in my brother,’ said Malik simply. ‘I have seen what he has done. Don’t you understand?’
Connie scowled as the two figures bent their heads over the tiny, glass-looking bead Malik took out of his pocket, which glowed and flickered intermittently.
‘But I…’ Luke felt his throat experimentally.
‘Do it,’ said Malik in a voice that brooked no argument.
The noise dug into Connie’s head; felt like it was burying itself inside her ears as if something would bleed. She pressed herself as far as she could against the back of the van, but it acted as an echo chamber and the resounding feedback roar made everything worse. The noise was impossible to bear even – as Luke had claimed it to be – at this muted level. Whatever was inside it was making this; there was nothing human about it at all. It was most like a twisted screech of crashing metal; a million robots falling down a million stairwells. The air crackled and smelled of burning wire.
Unnoticed, she unbolted the back door of the van and tumbled out onto the motorway slip road, closed it behind her and ran back up the verge onto a neighbouring field, desperate to get away from it as passing motorists looked puzzled and fiddled with their radios.
Up on the grass verge, looking down on six lanes of frighteningly heavy traffic thundering past – and still not quite managing to block out the incredible noise – she sat down with her hands over her knees, and tried not to cry.
Malik… Was he the answer? Could this really save them? She thought of a huge, teeming planet, filled with billions of life-forms, billions of miles away, the other side of the universe – and all of them thinking of Luke, of campaigning for him, celebrating him.
Whether it was successful, it seemed to her, or whether it was not, she simply couldn’t see a way in which she could keep him.
So Connie simply sat there in the morning chill, her head on her knees, arms clasped around them, trying to block her ears to the discordant noise of Luke speaking in his own way to his own people; blocking the way it made her feel.
And what if they did let him choose? Would he be miserable if he stayed for her? Could she be enough for everything he would have to give up if he never went home again? To live in a painful body he had to fight every step of the way? Could anyone?
Or would they make him go back? Would that be their price for not killing him? And could she survive it? And what about her friends: what price had they already paid?
The noise stopped suddenly, like pressure being relieved in her head. She blinked and looked around.
Luke was moving speedily up the hill to find her. He held out his hand.
‘Have you done it?’ she said. ‘Will it work? Have you told them to treat you as a hero, save you, parade you through the streets?’
He shook his head.
‘I don’t know. I sent the message.’
She nodded.
‘They will want you back.’
Luke was pained.
‘Don’t you want me?’
Numbly she nodded.
‘More than anything,’ she mumbled. ‘But I don’t know if I can take you away from… from your entire life.’
Luke then lay down on the wet grass and put his head on her lap. The passing cars didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, nor the pressing time, nor the work ahead of them. He seemed as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He lay down, then he reached up and caressed her hair.
‘This,’ he said. ‘This is the only place I ever want to be. This is my entire life now. This is all there ever is to me.’
A tear dripped off Connie’s chin and landed on his cheek, and he gently wiped it away.
‘You’re crying,’ he said. ‘See, look how human I am!’
She smiled at him.
‘Except when you sound like hell’s cement mixer,’ she said.
‘Evelyn always told me humans had views on making personal remarks,’ he said, as she reached up to kiss him.
Malik was staggering up the verge towards them.
‘What are you doing, you bloody nutters?! You’re not on holiday! Get in the bloody van before they blow up New College!’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Malik dropped them at the gate of the SCIF with the security guards there. They had to put their handcuffs back on, which was painful, to Connie at least. Then he had pressed his hand deeply into Luke’s shoulder and the two had pressed their foreheads together.
‘Go well,’ he said gruffly.
‘And you,’ said Luke. They straightened up.
‘Thank you,’ said Connie shyly.
Malik turned on her quickly and fiercely.
‘Don’t you dare get him killed,’ he said. ‘Don’t you dare put pressure on him that does bad things to my world, do you understand? Do not put him in jeopardy. Don’t do anything.’
Connie looked back at him. She knew what he was asking. She didn’t know, however, if she was up to doing it.
‘Mmmhmm,’ she said. Malik gave her a frosty look.
‘Give him up.’
She blinked and could not respond.
‘If you love him, give him up.’
‘It won’t come to that,’ said Luke.
‘Look at your hair,’ said Malik finally. ‘You are a colour.’
‘I know,’ said Connie. ‘But that is not all that I am.’
Malik let them out of the van.
Then he took his communications device and hurled it far, far in the air, where it fell into the River Cam, briefly disturbing some early-morning punters. He looked after it for a moment. Then he got back into the van and drove off at top speed, all sirens blazing, without a backwards glance.
The guards surrounded Luke and Connie and marched them in through the ultra-white interior of the SCIF again. Nigel tore down the corridors and took the fire escape stairs, swearing once again as the fingerprint recognition didn’t work terribly well.
He charged up to the front door, then slowed himself down, smoothing his shirt and straightening his tie, attempting to appear calm and collected. Then he walked slowly forwards.
The girl looked wild, her hair a bright copper halo around her head, her eyes slightly over-bright and excited, her cheeks very red and wearing a grey T-shirt, stained and torn in places, with ‘Kocham Warszawę’ written on it. Luke appeared exactly the same as he always did.
‘Where’s DSI Malik?’ he said to the guards.
‘Got blues and twosed,’ said Francis. ‘Set off like a jack rabbit.’
Nigel nodded. ‘Fine.’
He turned to the two of them, shaking his head.
‘Have you ANY IDEA how much trouble you’ve caused? And for what?’
‘We just wanted a little time,’ said Luke.
‘Well, congratulations on risking the lives of everyone on Earth for precisely nothing,’ said Nigel. ‘Now, there are some people here who want to meet you.’
Connie shook her head stubbornly.
‘We’ll talk to anyone you like, and do anything you like,’ she said. ‘But first, we want to see our friends.’
‘You want to keep the Prime Minister waiting?’
‘He’s waited three days; he can wait a bit longer. Also he’s a nobber. Also, yes. Because we can be cooperative and talkative when we’re in there, or we can stare at the floor. Don’t mind really.’
‘Um, what she said,’ said Luke.
Nigel sighed and glanced at his watch. It was Luke’s last day on Earth. By sundown, please God, all of this would be somebody else’s problem.
‘Five minutes,’ he growled.
They entered the room where the others were gathered. At first there was total silence. Then Ranjit jumped up hollering,
‘YOU’RE BACK!’
His glee was so genuine and unfeigned that the terrible fear Connie had had that awful things had happened to them relaxed slightly and she returned his exuberant hug gladly.
‘Oh God, are you all right? Were you okay? Arnold, what the hell did they do to you?’
Arnold had woken up with a huge boot mark on his neck and a black eye. He grinned vividly at them.
‘Standing up to the man,’ he said cockily. ‘Always knew I could. I just need to keep the print marks till I can get to a camera. Stick it on the web. Become a bit of a folk hero, you know. Move into an embassy for a couple of years.’
Connie ran up to him as Ranjit came close to Luke, then bounced away nervously again, then moved forwards again until Luke took matters into his own hands and gave him a quick, close hug.
Connie cuddled Arnold. He beamed.
‘Are you sure I don’t smell?’ he said.
‘You do,’ admitted Connie. ‘You smell awful. But I don’t mind.’
‘It’s the pong of the righteous’ said Arnold. ‘You smell all right.’
‘That’s because I keep getting soaking wet,’ said Connie. ‘Don’t ask. Oh man, I am so thrilled you are all okay. I was terrified they would do… do something awful to you. Thank you. Thank you so, so much for holding them off. Thank you. It gave us time… it gave us a chance… I think we might have fixed it…’
She was looking up and caught sight of Evelyn’s grim face next to Sé.
‘What? What is it? What happened?’
Evelyn indicated Sé, who still had an a-thousand-yard stare and had not got up to greet them. Connie moved towards him very carefully and stood in front of him, looking up into his fine-featured face. Her hands trembled.
‘What did they do to you?’ she said in shock, her entire body feeling like it was crumbling.
‘Did they do something to you?’
Sé swallowed painfully; his throat was still swollen and inflamed from choking.
‘It… doesn’t… matter,’ he said with difficulty. Connie breathed in sharply.
‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘What have we done to you?’
He shook his head, just once, stiffly, and Connie burst into tears.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I am so, so sorry’
He leaned his head on her shoulder.
‘It’s okay,’ he muttered. Then he started to cry too. ‘I am very glad to see you,’ he said.
‘So, dudes,’ said Arnold. ‘Don’t want to spoil the happy reunion, but what the fuck happened to the moon?’
Connie repeated Luke’s theory of the effect of a smaller moon on tidal patterns, and they had been both worried and impressed. Then they told them about Malik.
‘The policeman!’ Ranjit squeaked in excitement. ‘The policeman that got here after you left! He was the alien! I talked to an alien!’
‘You’re talking to an alien right now,’ pointed out Arnold.
‘Yes, but that’s Luke,’ said Ranjit. ‘That’s different.’
‘Yes, some of my best friends are aliens,’ said Arnold dryly.
‘So what’s happening now?’ said Evelyn. ‘Because from here, I have to say, it’s not really looking good.’
‘I know. We heard. It’s going to be fine,’ said Connie. ‘It’s going to be fine. Luke sent a message back to everyone on Kepler-186f.’
‘What was it?’
‘It went kind of BLEARGHGLAWARDCLURGHGRRHULKSMASH.’
Luke and Connie smiled at each other. Arnold rolled his eyes.
‘No,’ said Connie. ‘But… Malik and Luke have got it, I think. It’ll be fine. They’ve spoken to the people on the planet and, well, it’s going to be all right. He’s a hero to them. They’re going to let him go free.’
Luke didn’t say anything, just smiled again.
But Connie was wrong. She thought she knew what was in the message – a plea for clemency and togetherness.
She was wrong.
Nigel closed the door behind him carefully in the bustling room and waited for people’s attention. Gradually, everyone stopped. The PM looked expectant; the military men, as usual, were completely stony-faced.
‘They’re here,’ he announced.
Someone made a fast intake of breath.
Anyali stepped forward. She glanced at the PM. ‘We’d like to meet him first. In private.’
The chief scientific advisor stepped forwards.
‘We’d also like to spend some time with him. Tissue sampling, etc. How long before we hear?’
The general harrumphed.
‘Sundown.’
They looked at him, the PM shaking his head.
‘Have we had no new contact?’ he said, looking over at where Pol was still tapping away furiously, surrounded by his three screens.
‘Nothing yet. We’ll keep trying.’
‘How are they going to take him?’ said the general.
‘I think we’ll probably know it when we see it,’ said Kathy.
‘Have we got a cover story?’
Kathy nodded.
‘New Danny Boyle project,’ she said. ‘In case the Olympics come back.’
Anyali looked up from her phone again.
‘Another tanker washed up in Ecuador,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Something’s gone very wrong with the tides. The ABS and the EBS are stopping all shipping. And the Belarusian government isn’t very happy with you. Not at all. They have a lot of questions.’
‘One global crisis at a time,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘How are our dear colonial friends hanging in?’
‘Going nuts,’ said Anyali. ‘Don’t think there are a lot of people out there not discussing space invasions. Except for Fox News, which has declared it God’s revenge for gay marriage.’
‘I really, really would rather not deal with the Americans right now,’ said the PM, waving his hands.
He turned to Nigel.
‘Take me to him, please.’
‘Then us,’ said the chief scientist with an eager look in his eye Nigel didn’t like a bit. ‘You need to let us have an MRI, at the very least.’
In the end, Nigel decided to hold the meeting in his beautiful tower office. It was pretty up there; Dahlia, like all other non-essential personnel had been told not to work that day; and it was nice and quiet. They only wanted Luke but he had held his ground stubbornly and announced he wouldn’t come without Connie, so she was there too. Nigel took a couple of pictures – nobody seemed to mind – of the Prime Minister and Luke shaking hands.
‘Welcome,’ said the PM. ‘Welcome to Earth.’
‘Uh, thank you,’ said Luke shyly. ‘It’s nice.’
The PM leaned forwards.
‘Sorry to meet under such… um, awkward circumstances.’
Luke nodded.
‘You must know, we have done and are doing everything in our power to… to gain a stay of execution. And we will not give up until the very last moment.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Our scientist chappies downstairs… they want to, you know. Have a look at you.’
Connie burst forward. ‘No way!’ she said. ‘No way. No way are you chopping bits off him.’
‘I think they were thinking more of an MRI…’
‘No!’ said Connie, then remembered who she was speaking to. ‘Sorry. I mean, no, sir. But, sir, it’s perfectly clear. We can become part of the galaxy when we find it. When we discover it. Not by cutting someone else’s hair.’
‘Mm,’ said the PM. He seemed, for once, rather lost for words. ‘Are the prisons, um, comfortable where you come from?’
&n
bsp; Luke shook his head.
‘They have no prisons.’
Resistance is Futile Page 30
