Mission Improbable

by J. J. Green

  “Where’s Earth?” she asked Gavin.

  The insect chittered. “I apologise, but my knowledge of astronomy is extremely poor. I am unaware of the location of your home planet, I confess, except to say that it is near the edge of the galaxy. This is one of the reasons it was only comparatively recently discovered.”

  “Could the placktoids go there?” Carrie was remembering the shredder, and the placktoids’ hatred of humans.

  “Much as I would like to reassure you that it is not possible for the placktoids to visit Earth, I am sorry to report that if they are travelling illegally by transgalactic gateway, they could go anywhere for which they possess the coordinates.”

  “But if Earth is off limits until we develop long distance space travel,” said Dave, “how did the placktoids even know about office stationery?”

  “The term ‘off limits’ is not an accurate description of the travel restrictions that apply to Earth,” said Gavin. “You three, for example, are all here. But the reason for the placktoids’ knowledge of Earth artifacts is quite simple. Your media is very popular throughout the galaxy. Documentaries, dramas, quizzes and—what is it you call them? Ah yes—makeover programmes. Extremely edifying.”

  Carrie and Dave raised their eyebrows at each other.

  Turning his head horizontal, Gavin said, “I will create a gateway to return you home now.”

  Throughout this exchange Belinda had been standing at a short distance from the group and staring silently out over the oootoon ocean. At Gavin’s announcement she began rummaging in her bag. After pulling out a hairbrush she began to attempt to brush her thick, matted locks. “So, I’ll send in my report tomorrow.”

  “Your report?” asked Gavin. His head returned to vertical.

  “For this assignment, of course.”

  “Thank you, but that will not be necessary. I will, however, require a report from you,” he said, turning to Carrie. “I have concluded that my decision to replace you with a more experienced officer was premature. As I said, your performance was laudable, despite a rather disorganised start.”

  “But—?” said Belinda.

  “Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer Markham, while I am grateful to you for stepping in at short notice and attempting to deal with this difficult case, some of your behaviour and attitudes during recent events have led me to question your fitness for this role. I do not require a report from you, but I do require a self-evaluation statement, outlining where you believe you could have behaved differently, and what you would do if you found yourself in similar circumstances in the future.”

  Belinda’s mouth fell open, and she stood gaping like a fish out of water.

  Carrie looked around once more at the alien planet, its rich colours and the silent, sluggish oootoon. A chill wind was rising. She rubbed her arms. “Gavin, please, can we go home now?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – Back to Work

  Carrie scrambled from beneath her kitchen sink and waited for Dave. Outside her window, it was still dark. She’d been sure it would be morning on Earth by now. They’d been away for ages. Rogue bounced into the kitchen, his tail a waggy blur, and jumped up at Carrie to lick her face. She rubbed his neck and ears and made a big fuss of him. Toodles was nowhere to be seen, reserving her affection as usual, but Carrie knew she was about somewhere, just waiting for her to come in and say hello.

  Dave’s head appeared under her sink, quickly followed by his arms ,shoulders and the rest of his body. The green mist faded as he clambered out. “What’s the time?” he asked as he got to his feet.

  According to the clock on Carrie’s kitchen wall, it was nearly eight o’clock. “That can’t be right.” She went into her bedroom to get her phone. Returning to the kitchen, she showed it to Dave. It displayed the same time as the clock, and the date showed it was still Friday. From her living room came the sounds of the Leonardo DiCaprio biopic still playing on her TV.

  “No time’s passed since we left?” said Dave. “The gateway sent us back in time to the moment we left as well as returned us to Earth. That’s something your boss didn’t mention.”

  “No, but it’s great, isn’t it? I’m shattered. All I want to do is go to bed.”

  Dave was looking at the objects on Carrie’s table; at the things she had left behind when she had dived through the gateway after him. “You don’t have a translator anymore.”

  “No, I lost it when we crashed into the oootoon’s planet.” Standing in her ordinary kitchen in an ordinary town in the U.K., hearing the sounds of traffic in the street below, the words sounded weird. She frowned. “That did all happen, right?”

  Dave smiled. “Unless we both took the same hallucinogenic drug, yeah, it all happened. But, what I mean is, you won’t have one for your next assignment. You’ll have to ask Gavin for a replacement.”

  Carrie rubbed her forehead. “My next assignment? I don’t know. I need to recover from this one, and think about it a bit.” The prospect of visiting more planets was exciting, but the idea also made her heart race.

  “I know what you mean. It’s a lot scarier than it looks on TV or at the pictures, isn’t it?”

  “A lot.”

  “Best put all that stuff somewhere safe while you have a think about it, then,” Dave said, gesturing to the devices supplied by the Transgalactic Council and the fluorescent orange jumpsuit.

  “Yeah, I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ve got to find whatever it is I need to use to send in my report first. Might as well do the job properly. I don’t want to disappoint Gavin. He’s a good person, or thing, or whatever, even if he does look like he walked out of an alien horror flick.”

  Dave laughed nervously. “Yeah, he is. And it’s a good idea to tie up the loose ends.” He picked up a flat, black object and looked at it closely then, with apparent reluctance, he replaced it on the table. “You did a great job, Carrie.”

  She beamed. “I couldn’t have done it without you. You know, I don’t care what the Transgalactic Council calls the job, I was kind of a space detective, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, you were.” Dave grinned and stretched. “Okay, I’m going to head home now. I’ll see myself out. See you at work on Monday.”

  “Yeah, see you then.”

  Dave’s words reminded Carrie she had to return to the call centre on Monday. She was relieved that she had a whole weekend to recover from her work as a space detective. A thrill of excitement passed through her. Maybe she would take on another assignment. She also took a brief mental inventory of the items in her hallway, but there was nothing there she would mind losing to Dave’s light fingers.

  ***

  Monday rolled round too soon. After a weekend of putting the finishing touches to her new flat, walking Rogue and coaxing Toodles out of various hiding places—receiving several deep scratches in the process—Carrie was at her desk in plenty of time for her nine o’clock start. Maintenance and IT Support had been busy over the weekend, because a new telephone had appeared on her desk, and when she logged on to her computer, the call centre’s network of operator terminals was displayed.

  Carrie eyed the folder of complaints procedures on her desk, her heart sinking at the memory of all the customers she had put off with airy promises to fix their problems on her first day at the job. But she recalled what Dave had told her when he brought her some cake. The great long lists of questions and tick boxes were probably intended to frustrate the customers into giving up their complaints, which didn’t seem much better than what Carrie had done.

  “Welcome back.” Ms. Bass was standing at Carrie’s desk. Her eyebrows seemed to have moved higher on her forehead.

  “Oh...thanks?” Carrie couldn’t decide if Ms. Bass was being sarcastic.

  “It’s good to see you here bright and early, Ms. Hatchett. Your positive attitude will not go unnoticed.” She leaned closer. “To be frank, our turnover rate for supervisors is rather high. But you seem to be keen to do a good job.”

  Carr
ie winced. “I am keen to do a good job. Which is why I wanted to talk to you about this complaints procedure manual.”

  The warmth drained from Ms. Bass’ expression, and her look became stony. “Is there a problem with it?” Her calcified look didn’t deter Carrie from a thorough explanation of why the manual was a bad idea and how the customers might prefer a more practical response. “Thank you for your comments. I will give them due consideration,” Ms. Bass said, and strode back to her office. She closed the door behind her.

  Carrie sighed. Oh well, small steps.

  An icon was blinking on her screen. An operator was transferring a complaint. Carrie put on her headset and clicked a button. A barrage of angry words spewed into her ears. Sighing, Carrie swivelled her chair away from her desk while she waited for the customer to take a breath. She made eye contact with Dave, who was talking into his mic. He gave her a thumbs up, and she smiled and waved.

  At the first brief pause in the customer’s tirade, Carrie said, “I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Please go on, I’m listening.” Carrie paid careful attention to the customer’s explanation. She thumbed through her manual to find the relevant section, but it seemed to lead down a rabbit hole of inaction. She would have to find another way to deal with the complaint. Opening her desk drawer to find a notepad and pen, Carrie spotted a box of paperclips. She shivered.

  ***

  But when she got home that night, the very first thing Carrie did was to check inside her Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer’s toolbox. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a message running across the screen of a flat, transparent device. She removed the device from the bag. Liaison Officer Hatchett, the message read, please report for duty at 7.45 am Saturday June 7th according to your Earth time zone. You will attend a briefing session before embarking on your second assignment, which involves a visit to the planet Dandrobia.

  Carrie made herself some tea. She sat at her kitchen table, Rogue at her feet, his tongue lolling. Sipping from her mug, she mentally repeated the final word of the message. Dandrobia. She wondered what kind of place it was, and what kind of aliens lived there.

  NEXT: PASSAGE TO PARADISE

  CARRIE HATCHETT SPACE ADVENTURES #2

  (Scroll ahead for a sneak preview.)

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  ALSO BY J.J. Green

  PASSAGE TO PARADISE

  Carrie hatchett, space adventurer #2

  TRANSGALACTIC ANTICS

  Carrie Hatchett, Space AdventureR #3

  DEATH SWITCH

  THERE COMES A TIME

  A SCIENCE FICTION COLLECTION

  Carrie Hatchett’s Space Adventures #2

  PASSAGE TO PARADISE

  Chapter One – Belligerent Bug

  Carrie Hatchett was late. She was trying to find the room where she had been interviewed for her job as a Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer, and the seam of her fluorescent orange jumpsuit was working its way uncomfortably high.

  She was walking alongside her colleague and friend, Dave. Dropping back a step or two, she stealthily tugged at the seam and jiggled her leg to ease the tension.

  “What are you doing?” Dave had turned and was watching her.

  “Nothing.” Carrie cleared her throat. “Now, where is that room?”

  “I thought you’d been here before?”

  “I have, but I kind of stumbled on the right place by accident. I can remember what it looks like from the outside, but I’m not sure how to get there.”

  They were in a set of cream-coloured ceramic tunnels that had large oval recesses embedded in the walls, floor and ceiling. Bordering each recess was a line of symbols, some black, some luminous, some flashing. They approached a recess that crossed their path and were forced to leap over it before taking a left-hand turn. The tunnel walls emitted a soft glow.

  “You know,” said Dave, “I shouldn’t have come along.”

  “It’ll be fine, honestly. Anyway, I need you. I really do.”

  Dave had accompanied Carrie on her previous—first—assignment, and she was sure she could not have succeeded without him. When the Transgalactic Council had contacted her about her next task, she had persuaded her friend to come with her to the briefing, though he was technically an ‘unauthorised companion’. Glancing at Dave’s profile, Carrie sighed. Dave was stunningly good-looking, but also—for her—disappointingly gay.

  He shook his head. “You’ve shown you can do the job. I’m sure you can manage.” He looked nervously from side to side. “Maybe there’s some way I can go back? I could feed Toodles and Rogue for you.”

  Carrie’s brow wrinkled. Dave knew as well as her that when they returned through the green mist that had conveyed them there from beneath her kitchen sink, no time would have passed. To Toodles, her sweet, affectionate cat, and Rogue, her lovable, handsome dog, it would be as though they had never left. Studying her friend’s face, Carrie saw beads of sweat, though the temperature was only pleasantly warm. She realised what the problem was. “Stop worrying. Gavin won’t hurt you, you know.”

  “I know, but...” Dave’s shoulders slumped and he swallowed. “You’ve got to admit...those eyes, and the j-j-jaws, with the extra set of jaws inside and razor sharp teeth, and the legs...He’s definitely got far too many legs. I mean, why does he need that many?”

  Gavin, Carrie’s manager in the Transgalactic Council, was a massive insectoid alien with ten pairs of legs, a bronze carapace and two sets of viciously sharp mandibles. At moments of high tension, his inner jaws had the unnerving habit of protruding several centimetres, and he had a poor understanding of the human need for personal space.

  Rolling her eyes, Carrie said, “Gavin’s lovely. You just have to get to know him.”

  Dave tugged at his shirt collar and grimaced.

  As always, he looked effortlessly stylish. He was wearing denim jeans, brogues, and a button down shirt under a crew neck pullover. Carrie looked down at her orange jumpsuit, the uniform for her role in the Transgalactic Council. The colour was intended to help Council officers stand out in conflict zones and mark them as neutral personnel with diplomatic protection. Carrie’s jumpsuit squashed her breasts to one homogeneous lump and the tight material neatly profiled her pot belly. The central seam had worked its way too high once more. She reached behind to pull it lower.

  Glancing at her, Dave said, “That jumpsuit’s too small for you.”

  “I know.”

  “Didn’t they have a bigger size?”

  “Yes, they did.”

  “Then why didn’t you—”

  “Because I’m on a diet,” Carrie said between her teeth. She sighed and tilted her head. “I thought it would fit me when I lost a bit of weight, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Dave, raising his eyebrows.

  “Wait, is this it?” The symbols alongside a recess looked familiar. One was a black circle above a triangle with two long rectangles below, like the symbol for the women’s restroom. Carrie slipped her bag off her shoulder and put it down. The bag was her Transgalactic Council Officer ‘toolbox’ and held a translator, magnetic field neutraliser, briefing screen and other useful devices.

  Carrie rubbed her palms together, then lightly rested one hand on the surface of the recess. Nothing happened. “Maybe not.” She put her hands on her hips.

  “Come on, Carrie,” said Dave. “Don’t you have any idea where this room is? We’ve been here for ages. We’ll be wandering around forever at this rate.”

  She looked up and down the corridor. Dav
e was right. Their situation was difficult. The tunnels were endless and she did not know where they were nor how they could get back to the place where they had entered. Not that it would do any good to retrace their steps. The green mist that transported lifeforms between worlds always disappeared within a few minutes, and only authorised Transgalactic Council staff could open the gateways. Carrie was not high enough in the Council to have the authority.

  She needed to find Gavin soon because he would be wondering where she had got to. Though he was far nicer than his appearance suggested, he was still her boss and he would not be pleased about being kept waiting. “Right. Let’s go this way.” She set off decisively.

  “That’s the way we just came.”

  She halted mid-stride and about-faced. “Okay, this way then.”

  Dave rolled his eyes as he followed her. Traces of a rich, complex, spicy scent appeared in the air. As they walked on, the odour grew stronger. It seemed to be coming from the area they were approaching.

  “Can you smell something?” asked Carrie.

  Dave sniffed deeply as they turned a tight bend. “Yes, it’s kind of musky, like a—” Before them loomed a huge, twenty-legged, razor-jawed, bronze-shelled alien. “Whoa.” Stumbling back, Dave grabbed the wall to steady himself.

  “Gavin! Great to see you again,” said Carrie.

  The head of the massive alien insect turned from vertical to horizontal, and the spicy scent grew stronger. Antennae quivered on the wedge-shaped head as its ten pairs of legs were set in motion. The bug approached Carrie, its inner jaws protruding until they were centimetres from her face.