by Eli Ingle
“Come on!” shouted the Captain, sticking his knife in the man’s gut before pushing him away. Laurie held out his hand.
Rigel ran over and held it tight, letting himself be pulled along. The others ran after them, their adrenaline managing to keep them ahead of the pursuing guards.
Reaching a wider part of the wall, they veered left to a set of steps that led down to the city. A shouted order from Maximillian made the guards fall back and head instead towards the gatehouse.
Several moments later they heard another mournful blast of the horn. The call was taken up by several others further inside the city. Laurie did not seem to take as a good sign. He swore loudly.
Going down the stairs, Rigel could barely keep up. Laurie pulled him onto his back and carried him down. Opal was running behind them. A shot sounded and a moment later she cried out as the bullet hit her in the shoulder, making her stumble. Spanner grabbed her and helped her along.
“Opal!” shouted Rigel.
“Shh! It’s alright, Rigel,” said Laurie, still running. “She’s fine. We need to be quiet. We’ll be okay, we’ll be okay. Come on.” It sounded as if he was talking to himself more than Rigel.
The other crew members hurried faster until they finally reached the bottom of the stairs.
Immediately they ran down a small side street and into a courtyard.
“Where are we?” demanded Laurie, trying to stay in control, comfort Rigel, and keep out of danger all at the same time.
“I don’t know,” admitted Tink. “Everything looks different.”
“Surely the government buildings will still be in the same places?”
“I hope so.”
“Well, let’s keep going and see where we end up.”
“Okay, but quick! I can hear them coming again!”
Charging off again, they weaved through so many streets that Rigel could barely tell in which direction they were going. On and on they ran until he thought their lungs must burst, but still they hurried along, desperate to get away. Rigel’s view was hotchpotch thanks to the speed they were travelling. He only caught fragments of the surrounding scenery: tram lines embedded in the streets, lamps adorning the pavements. The city was huge but there was a peculiar hush over it as if the residents were hiding. Flowers hung in baskets on the street corners and strange wires were suspended between buildings, linked to a central cable, almost like telephone wires at home.
Still they ran. Resting in a deserted courtyard, he began to think they had lost their pursuers when there was a long moment of silence. It was broken all too soon by the sound of a rifle crack and Rigel realised with a sinking feeling that they had almost been ambushed. The shot went wide, giving them enough time to spin around in the other direction and choose another way to go.
After a while Rigel began to notice that the buildings were changing. There were no longer small houses and shops down tiny alleyways, but grand banks and department stores. Domed buildings and towers were also prominent, looking over the rest of the city. Huge courtyards were in front of many of these buildings, reminding Rigel of Trafalgar Square in London … although with a distinct lack of pigeons.
“Here we are,” wheezed Laurie, staggering past a sign reading Plum Street.
A huge set of stone steps led up to what had to be a government building. It was a tall, many-levelled thing, looking almost like a photo of Versailles in Paris that Rigel had once seen in a book at school, but this one had huge domes on top. Winged creatures made of stone lined the edge of the roof, peering down at them. Large wooden doors, polished smooth, stood shut against the night. Most of the windows were in darkness, although some had lights burning within, showing that at least the whole town was not deserted.
Climbing up the stone steps, the crew made their way towards the entrance to the building. Even though Rigel had finally stopped crying, he was still finding it difficult to take everything in. They climbed the stairs (each of which was half the height of a fully grown man) and moved over to the doors. The crew was obviously used to the doors – like the front gate – being left open, so when Laurie turned the handle and found it locked he growled in frustration and banged on it. Quiet footsteps could be heard behind the door. The person paused as if wondering why someone was banging on the door at this hour.
“Let us in!” roared Laurie, banging on the door again.
“Please state your name clearly,” came a voice from a tinny loudspeaker overhead.
“I am Lorrirone Orunstone Peririer the Third and I have brought the crew of the Persefoni. I also bring Rigel, the Light One whom we were sent to collect,” he said, loudly and clearly, checking over his shoulder again to see whether the guards were still following them.
They could hear muttering and scraping behind the door and Rigel was just considering whether they should run away again – there seemed to be no sanctuary here – when the door was pulled open and the group on the doorstep was pulled inside.
Stumbling onto the heavy carpet, Rigel looked around, dazed, as he watched several people slam the doors shut and lock them again with several bars, locks, and chains.
Rigel and Laurie were pulled further forwards; the others were left where they were. A young guard in a red outfit dusted them off awkwardly and tried to help Laurie readjust his collar before the Captain pushed her hand away. A head official was dressed in a neatly pressed maroon outfit with gold braiding. He shook his head at the sight of them, bleeding and filthy, barely able to stand on their feet. His eyes finally drifted from Laurie and the pilots to Rigel, where they widened in surprise as if he could not believe what he was seeing. Rigel looked behind himself to see if the official was looking at something else.
“I admit, Lorrirone,” said the head official silkily, “that if you had brought no mention of the Light One here then you would have found no sanctuary within these walls. Come, there is much to discuss with the Lord Minister.”
“Who’s he?” asked Laurie, as they hurried along the lustrous hallways, many adorned with chandeliers and heavy oil paintings.
“The Lord Minister,” repeated the man.
“Yes but who is that? He wasn’t there before we left.”
“He’s in charge now. Ever since things took a … downward turn.”
“What about the King and Queen? Alcor and Mizar?”
“They remain in an … advisory capacity. Well, Mizar remains; Alcor perished.”
“He died?!”
“He was killed when attempting to defend the city against the invaders.”
“What invaders?! We’ve been gone for five days. How has all this happened in less than five days? Things were bad before we left but not this bad!” A hint of desperation was beginning to colour Laurie’s voice and Rigel could not blame him – he could not imagine how disorientating and frightening it must be for the crew to find out that everything they knew about their home had imploded in one conversation.
“That would be because you’ve been gone longer than five days,” replied the man, pausing slightly. “You’ve been gone for three years.”
Silence. Then Tink burst out laughing.
“Very funny,” he giggled, sounding closer to hysteria than amusement. The official regarded him with silent contempt and Rigel watched as the mechanic’s face paled as he realised this was no joke.
What was this man talking about? How could they have been away that long? Laurie, was stammering and unsuccessfully trying to ask questions but seemed unable to speak. He was about to ask how this was possible when the man stopped outside some heavy oak doors. Pushing them open, he ushered them inside and locked the doors behind them.
They were in a cabinet room. A long table was flanked by what looked to be at least forty chairs, although only five at the far end were filled. At the head of the table was a tall, thin man with wispy hair combed backward over his head to form a thin covering. He was wearing a thick black suit that contrasted with his pallid face. His fa
ce was deeply lined with jowls and shadows in the hollows of his eyes that gave him the impression of having a long-term illness. His hands were clasped together, holding a stick onto the ground. Rigel saw little black eyes glittering at them with mistrust from the folds of the Minister’s shadowy face.
“Come here,” ordered the Lord Minister.
The pilots remained motionless at the other end of the table. Tink was so pale he was nearly shimmering. Quimby and Opal were holding onto each other and shaking. Laurie was sweating. His mouth was opening as if to say something but no words came out. He clutched his throat.
“I said: Come over here,” barked the Lord Minister, wagging a bony hand.
They hesitated for a moment before slowly moving towards the other end of the table. Rigel hid in the middle of them. There was a feeling that the pilots were the only sane people left and that to remain as a unit would protect them from the harm of the world.
Arriving at the other end, they remained some distance away from the officials. Rigel peeked out from a gap in the crew.
No-one spoke. Laurie tried to remain defiant by crossing his arms but as he had no idea what was going on he seemed to feel in no position to speak. Tink was rubbing his hands together whilst Spanner rested his hand on a wrench tucked into his belt. L’aroche had her hand on Rigel’s shoulder. The Minister’s raised eyebrows indicated that he had as much intention of speaking as Laurie did, but was waiting instead to hear what they had to say for themselves. The pilots shuffled nervously and glanced at each other. Finally Laurie spoke to the Lord Minister.
“Is it true? Have we really been gone for three years?” he asked, not daring to look higher than the table.
“Yes, you have,” replied the man in a gravelly voice.
The pilots groaned. Several of them were muttering about their families or spouses who had been left behind. Laurie staggered slightly, weak at the knees, and had to rest on Tink to stop himself falling over. He turned to his crew and tried saying something to them but the words were lost again.
“I … I … I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I should have protected you all. I’m so sorry.”
“You have been classified as lost or deceased,” continued the Minster, without sentiment. “Memorial services were carried out on your behalf after a month of absence. Life carried on, had to. We were about to send out another crew to collect the Light One but public opinion was that it was too soon to risk another crew’s lives … that linked with the fact that no-one wanted the job. Your families have come to terms with the loss as best as they could. Others remain … in denial.”
“What have we done? How has this happened?”
The crew was devastated but Rigel was feeling something different, although just as strong. Guilt. This was all his fault. They had been sent to collect him and in doing so they had been thought to be lost and their families thought they were dead. How could they forgive him? He was such a petty part of all this and yet he had ruined six lives ….
“Our most prominent scientists did indeed look at the problem at the time,” admitted the Lord Minister. “And they believed the risk of dying on the journey was high enough that that could be the explanation for your disappearance. The other thing was that time zones may move differently when travelling between worlds. A few days in transit may well equal much longer elsewhere.”
“Why were we never told this before we set off?!” roared Laurie. “Our families think we’re dead and you sit there calmly telling us the explanation when we should have been told of the risks before we left! But no! So overcome with the need to get Rigel here that no-one minded what happened to us in the process!”
The Minister did not seem to be listening. At the mention of Rigel his eyes had taken on a hungry look and they bored into the centre of the huddle where he could tell Rigel was standing. Suddenly mistrustful, Rigel edged further behind Laurie.
“Where is he?” asked the Minister, his voice attempting to take on a jovial tone. “Come on out child. We mean you no harm.”
Rigel leant out slightly, glancing at the Minister, who was smiling down at him.
“Very young … but no matter. If what those at the Institute have told us is true then age will not matter here. Come over here. Let me have a look at you.”
Rigel shook his head and stepped back beside Laurie, who put his arm around the boy. The Minister’s jovial tone slipped and his face slackened, giving him a gaunt, threatening appearance.
“Bring him out, Laurie,” he hissed. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking you’d been working on him for your own ends.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Laurie.
“Well, you say you’ve been away for a few days, but who’s to know you haven’t really been away longer and been working on him … planning to take over?”
“I don’t know you, Minister, but I would think that with that attitude, all this pressure might be getting to you. We have been away for a few days and I have no wish to take over anywhere. Here, look at him.” He pushed Rigel forwards. Rigel looked up at him, betrayal in his eyes. “It’s alright, Rigel,” said the Captain.
The Lord Minister was smiling at him again, leaning down whilst holding his stick for support. “Come here, child. Let me look at you. Yes, yes. Quite as we discussed. Very good. So, you will have no objection to helping us, will you?” he asked, before pressing on without waiting for a response. “Excellent! I hoped so. Now, so much to do in so little time! You will be accompanied to the Institute immediately for training.”
“Wait a minute!” said Laurie as he saw the look in Rigel’s eyes. “Not so fast. Give him a chance! He’s just come from another world. All this is so new.”
“Ah yes, Captain,” said the Minister. “I see your work here is done. Now, to discuss the matter of your arrest – ”
“Arrest?!” cried Laurie, stiffening.
“Yes. You stole an airship, raided vital supplies, left without leave, and endangered the lives of many good people in the process. You were absent for three years without further leave and then come charging into the city killing all in your path. You seem to harbour fatherly feelings towards the boy, which could hamper progress in his development. Many men have died in the subsequent raids and battles that followed and that could have been prevented had you managed to secure the child sooner. For that reason, you and your entire crew are to be put under immediate arrest with a high possibility of execution for treason against the city and your people.”
“What?! No!”
“Take them away,” said the Minister idly, wafting a hand. “Now, Rigel – ”
“No!”
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t arrest them! It’s not their fault that all that happened. They did their best to help get me here. If anything it’s my fault that it happened because I was the one they were coming to get … so you should arrest me.”
Laurie was staring at him, dumbstruck. The Minister looked at him approvingly.
“There, there,” he said, patting his shoulder. “There’s no need to feel guilty for their failings. We’ll look after you. Take them away!” he barked. A group of men in grey outfits entered the room and apprehended the crew of pilots, dragging them from the room as they shouted and attempted to fight free. Opal punched a guard in the jaw, knocking him to the floor, and was about to draw her pistol when another guard dived at her and handcuffed the pilot on the floor. The guard who had been punched blew a whistle between his bloodied lips and the doors burst open as five armed guards entered the room, their guns pointing at Laurie’s crew.
“Stand down!” they shouted. The pilots turned to Laurie for instruction.
“Stand down,” Laurie instructed through gritted teeth. “I don’t want any of you shot.”
The guards moved to the back of the crew and herded them out of the room.
When the doors were finally shut, the resulting silence seemed even louder. The Minister had sa
t down at the table again and was attempting to keep Rigel calm.
“Come and sit, please,” he said, patting the chair beside him. “There is so much we need to talk about.”
“They’re my friends,” said Rigel, stubbornly. “Let them go!”
“Dear child, do not attempt to understand what is incomprehensible to one as small as you. Do as you are told. Sit.”
Deciding not to argue, Rigel sat on the velvet lined chair and stared at the Minister mistrustfully.
“Let us eat first,” the Lord Minister said, “you must be famished.”
Pressing a button under the table, Rigel watched as several servants entered, carrying huge platters of food. They were laid on the table as hot plates were rested in front of them both. The servants left and Rigel was given leave to pick whatever food he wanted. He decided to make a tactical decision: to eat while he was hungry and smile a lot. When they wanted to talk he would run. What was the point in running while they were feeding him?
Fortunately for Rigel, the Minister seemed to have no desire to talk whilst he was eating, so they could enjoy the food in silence. There was a slight sweet taste that was almost cloying at times, but Rigel was so hungry that he barely noticed. One thing that he did concentrate on through the meal, other than the food, was his magic. For that was surely what he was able to do. It was an elusive feeling that nearly always escaped him when he was in danger, but this time he was looking to locate it without being in immediate danger and without any extreme emotion to fuel it. If he could find it then if it came to a need to fight off guards, he would be able to do so with ease. The feeling however was trickier than he would have wanted and reluctantly he had to give up. He now had to hope that he would be able to use it when the time was right.
When he had eaten the last spoonful of blancmange, he sat back in his chair, staring at the Minister, who had finished several minutes before him. Rigel smiled lazily, pretending that the offer of food had left him feeling friendlier. The man obviously bought this as he nodded at Rigel before speaking.
“Good, good! I’m glad you feel happier now. The misunderstanding between us was not something that I wanted to start off on. I’m sure you can see now that those men were trying to manipulate you for their own ends and it is better that they were arrested.”
