The Shadow Hours

Tim Cooks Tim Cooks is a gestalt entity comprised of: ! Amanda McGrath ! Francis Liming ! Gillian Boyd ! Harry Geerts ! Louise Ayling ! Natalie Woodward ! Richard Horsefield ! Stephen Yates ! Stuart McVittie-Mathews who were commanded efficiently by Joseph Reddington with Douglas Cowie.

The group cheerfully acknowledge the wonderful help given by: ! Fionn Murtagh ! Adam Ganz ! Adam Roberts ! Robert Hampson ! David Wells, and the Enterprise team.

If you would like to know more about the team, or contact us, have a look at http://www.projectTooManyCooks.co.uk - you’ll find lots of interesting details.

Chapter 1

It was a bright afternoon on 16th September 2011 when they came. The sun shone. Then it didn’t.

People looked at the sky for an explanation. The answer looked back. Their own reflections in the shiny underbellies of gigantic vessels hovering in the sky. They hung over the cities. London, Manchester, Glasgow, Newcastle, Bristol, Cardiff were all plunged into darkness. They linked around the world. Amsterdam, Los Angeles, Chicago, Melbourne, Milan, Moscow, Nairobi. The planes unfortunate enough to be in the air when they appeared were obliterated. After that, anything that got more than 1100m off the ground was destroyed. Effective immediately, all planes were grounded. Ten years later, nothing had changed.

The world had to adapt. Emergency meetings, hectic phone calls, conference after conference after conference. There was little agreement between countries. Some wanted to fight. Others wanted to talk. A few wanted to carry on as if nothing had happened. Over time, these fevered

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opinions were forced into a fragile compromise, which soon turned into mutual distrust. Countries pulled out of international agreements in the name of self interest, all of them rushing to be the first to make contact with the visitors. In August 2013, the U.S. decided to leave the U.N. and go into a period of glorious isolation. Global panic ensued as China and Russia soon followed suit.

They say a fish rots from the head down, and in a matter of months, the U.N. was down to a skeletal membership, consisting of those who were too poor or too weak to stand alone.

However, it was only a minority of nations that shut themselves off from the rest of the world.

With the halt of all air travel, the shipping industry entered a golden age. Landlocked countries suffered economically, while countries that boarded the sea prospered, quickly establishing strong trade routes. Island nations rose in prominence.

The United Kingdom, Japan, Australia, Samoa and Iceland all became bustling hubs of trade and industry. This unexpected change to worldwide industry and economics brought with it greed and violence. Conflicts arose the world over, the most significant being the break up of the U.K. By 2016, Scotland and Wales had sufficient economic stability to split from the union, and did so. In Northern Ireland, bitter fighting broke out over ownership of Belfast. Street skirmishes between

5

armed soldiers and civilians from England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales became commonplace. All the while these radical changes were being made on the planets surface, the visitors, silent, lingered in the sky.

People adapted too. When sudden darkness alerted them to a craft above them, they shivered rather than fled. Many tried to put a brave face on their compromised life style but some, still anxious for their explanation, called for more action. The people of the world of September, 2021 were a confused people, their every move under the scrutiny of the colossal eyes above them. *

*

*

“What are you drawing?”

Pete looked up. A child’s face was peering over the counter at him. A woman, the child’s mother, stood behind.

“Nothing important,” he said, turning the paper over so it was face-down on the counter.

There was a pause.

“Did you want something?” he said, feeling slightly self-conscious. He’d been so into his drawing that someone could have walked off with half the shop.

It was rare enough to get anyone coming in to buy a DVD anymore, let alone during autumnal shadow

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hours.

“It’s my birthday,” said the boy, “I get a present.”

Pete glanced at the child’s mother, who seemed determined to stay silent. He leaned on the counter.

“So what exactly would you like?”

“I want something about Africa.”

Despite himself, despite everything Pete smiled.

“I’ve got something in the back” he said and swung his feet off the counter.

The storeroom was even more of a mess than the front of the shop. It had been years since anything new had come in from abroad, so the dust, damp and mould were combining to give the whole place a musty aroma. Pete flicked on the light. The storeroom was dark, even without the local saucer eclipsing the sun. It had been like this around this time of day for as long as he could remember. The visitors seemed peaceful enough. They just sat there, above a number of towns and cities around the world, and had been there for years. Still, some called for their destruction, but to Pete they were little more than a daily nuisance.

He looked frantically through the old DVDs in the shop’s storeroom for something suitable. After a couple of disparaging minutes, he returned to the front of shop, hands full. The boy and his mother had left. He had obviously taken longer than he thought.

Pete decided to call it a day and shut the shop. As he left, the sense of relief he felt at finishing for an-

7

other day was as strong as the wind that blew around him. He hopped into his car and turned on the radio.

He could only get a good reception on one station.

There was no music, just people talking. It sounded serious. *

*

*

Major Malcolm Roth was staring out at the parade ground when his receptionist’s voice buzzed through on the intercom.

“The broadcast is starting in a couple of minutes Major.”

He walked over to his desk and pressed down the button to reply “Thank you Susan.” The Major sat down heavily behind his desk. He remembered days when sitting down wasn’t accompanied by an involuntary grunt of joints forced into unwanted labour.

He delved into his desk drawer and pulled out a battered radio. Leaning back in his chair he began fiddling with the knobs and dials. He’d been offered a revamp of his office, but had declined. No need to fix things that weren’t broken.

He could feel that things were changing. Wheels were in motion. This upstart politician was one of the new breed. The ones that followed words with action. The sort of politician that wouldn’t just let the army be. A stirrer. Malcolm believed in letting peo-

8

ple do their jobs, delegation and trust, letting expert be experts. He’d gotten used to the craft above, and settled down. No reason to sir things up. Now there was talk. Rumblings of changes. Reforms. Mandates. Orders. Maybe there wasn’t a quiet slide into retirement for him anymore.

As static resolved into speech, he sat perfectly still and listened, his eyes traversing imaginary patterns in the wood of his large mahogany desk.

“And now I present the new Secretary of State for the Home Department and Alien Affairs, Antony McCrea.”

“Thank you Prime Minister. I stand before you at a trying time for our people. It is nearly 10 years now since we could look up at our beautiful blue English sky and not see it blighted by these so called ‘visitors’ to our Earth. ‘Visitors’ they call them! As if they are like our children at the zoo. Simply there to watch, to enjoy, to sit back and admire. I say we have been doing too much watching! Too much admiring! Too much waiting! No longer should we have to put up with shadow hours! No longer should we sit idly by, whilst our friends and loved ones live in fear! No longer should we waste our energy trying to talk while all of theirs is spent preparing for the attack that I promise you one day will come! Do not listen to the peace mongers who say we have gone 10 years without violence. What about the fires of the New Forest? The crop failures of Sussex? The

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flooding of Norfolk? Coincidences some say.

I say let us not trust our lives to hope and serendipity. Let us see these ‘visitors’ for the invaders they are. The leeches sucking on the lifeblood of our people. The blockers of the sun, the squatters of the sky, they are waiting for their moment. We shall not wait.

We shall prepare. Every resource available to me will go towards finding their secrets, their reasons, their motives. Every moment I shall spend protecting us from this imminent threat. Only resolute and immediate action will avert it even now. From this day forth, I promise to each and every one of you citizens of this great land of England, that we shall once again possess our own land and sky, reunited once again under the flag of St. George.”

The Major had heard enough. He couldn’t believe Antony used St. George in his rallying cry. He jabbed angrily at the power button. He was subjected to a few more seconds of the rapturous applause before the sound died away with a pop. He leaned back and sunk into the soft leather of his chair. He could feel a headache coming on. Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand he groped on his desk for the whisky decanter. He had always liked a drink. *

*

*

Getting into the bunker never caused Pete much

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trouble, it was the journey down to the lab that was always a pain. Far more stairs than were actually necessary. The foyer to the lab was clinically clean, its hygiene more oppressive than the massive concrete building itself. The harsh bright lighting making the padded white walls glow in an eerily cold manner.

The place was always silent, noise-proof walls saw to that. The only sound in the corridors would come from the suction made by the heavy automatic doors as they slid open and closed. Pete arrived at the last door protecting the lab from the outside, this one could not be entered through without a pass or someone else’s approval. What a joke. Why should he need the approval of some scientist to see his own sister? And of course, they could never just give him his own pass to the lab. Instead he had to be ‘collected’ from the outer door, an insult he put up with through gritted teeth. Who would it be today? The disapproving face and silver hair of his step-father?

Or some new undergraduate who landed a placement in the lab?

Pete saw Marie through a small glass window in the heavy door, her curly dark hair framed her pretty face perfectly and her round blue eyes look almost luminous next to her tanned skin. As she looked at him inquisitively through the window the small freckles crinkled on her nose as she smiled at him.

He touched his hair nervously as the door opened.

“Salut, Peter, I have come to let you in”

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“Hey Marie.” He smiled, and followed her into the main lab, “How’s it going?”

“Ah so so.” She shrugged.

“How is she?”, there was no need to establish who ‘she’ was, Pete always asked the same question.

“She is fine, taking it all in her stride.”

“Doesn’t she always?” Pete laughed.

“Oh I know! I remember when I first came here I was so surprised that we had to strap her down at night! But then I think it surprised me even more that she was always so... calm about it. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.”

Pete nodded, sadly. “I’ve never liked that.”

Marie shrugged. “Oh, I think so long as she feels safe it’s worth it, no?”

Pete frowned and quickened his pace.

The pair approached the final door to the lab, Marie swiping her pass at the door, which opened to reveal yet another cold and clinical room.

“This place is so depressing” Pete muttered under his breath, receiving a scolding look from Marie.

Looking around the lab Pete noticed the small feminine touches that Marie had scattered around in an attempt to make the place more homely for Charlotte. A large pinkish furry rug looked out of place in the middle of the clinically white room. He noticed a new painting of some farm animals positioned awkwardly against the wall. There were even peach cushions placed on the solid chrome chairs. It barely

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detracted from the sterility of the environment but Pete appreciated the sweetness of the gesture. He struggled to find the right words to tell her how much he appreciated what she did for Charlotte. He struggled to tell her lots of things. He always managed to stick is foot right in it in one way or another every time he saw her. Yet she still always seemed glad to see him.

“Err...nice rug.” said Pete, hoping to ease the tension.

Unsure on how to take the compliment Marie smiled half-heartedly.

They approached Charlotte’s bedroom, where a large one-way viewing window and a microphone linked it to the corridor. On the other side of the window, Charlotte was studying, oblivious to the scientists watching her from outside. What an invasion of her privacy. Nodding at Marie, he left her in the corridor as he turned the door handle.

MORE NORMAL Before he had even opened the door fully, Pete was winded as the blonde blur of his sister flung herself towards him. “ Oof! Hello trouble.” He gasped, grinning as he ruffled her hair, “I guess you missed me then.”

“Obviously!” She beamed at him. “It’s always so boring when you’re not here!”

Pete smiled, looking at the room that so clearly showed how divided Charlotte’s personality was. To

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his left the walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books. Not fun books, at least, not the kind that Pete, or any other normal person, would find fun. ‘A Brief Guide to the Fundamentals of String Theory” , was the ironic title of one particularly hefty tome.

‘Advanced Molecular Cell Biology’. ‘Introduction to Semiconductor Fabrication’. The titles were enough to make you shiver, as Pete always did. Buried somewhere under a mass of papers and microscopes was a desk, where Charlotte would get on with her studies.

Pete didn’t want to think about the number of qualifications she must have by now, didn’t want to know how many of these books his twelve-year-old sister must have written or contributed to. He preferred, instinctively, the other side of her room, where her bed and chest of drawers were. This side of the room just said “Lottie”. The wall was covered in pictures of her and Pete, her dad, her mother, Marie, lions and giraffes. The shelves were filled with films and books about Safaris and Africa. The bed was adorned with cushions and toys. This was a kid’s room. They went to sit on her bed.

“How’s the shop?” Somehow she always knew the most annoying thing to ask.

“It’s rubbish.” He sighed, “as always.”

She rolled her eyes at him “How can you say that?

You get to meet people, see things outside. You live by yourself and never have anyone asking you silly questions”.

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He raised his eyebrows at her. “You’d be surprised.”

She looked at him searchingly.

“Oh I don’t know Lottie... I just don’t feel like I’m ever going to make something of my life. If I’ll do anything. Your Dad agrees with me.”

“Don’t listen to him” She said, slapping his arm.

“What does he know? We’re going on Safari one day.” She grinned at him.

“Of course we are.” He said, still disheartened.

Her face fell, making him feel terrible. He put his arm around her. “Of course we are Lotts. You and me - on the Serengeti .”

“And you can’t keep talking about how you’re never going to get anywhere with you’re life. You will.

You just need to be patient,” she said, her youthful eyes radiating the understanding that was beyond her years.

“I suppose so.”

“You know I’m right.” She nudged him, and he smiled as he nudged her back.

“Why on earth do I tell you all this? You’re supposed to be the kid.” He laughed.

“Because I’m the only one who can’t run away?”

She said, punctuating her comment by poking out her tongue.

“Right,” Pete sprang to his feet, grabbing a cushion from the pile. “You’re for it this time!” He battered her with the cushion repeatedly as she shrieked

15

with laughter, before she retaliated, throwing multiple cushions at his chest and head. He staggered backwards, laughing.

“What are you two doing? Look at all this mess!”

They stopped, turning to look at the door. It was Dr James, and he was clearly unimpressed.

“We’re having fun Dad!” Charlotte sighed in exasperation.

“Remember that?” Pete added, snidely.

“Now is not the time! You’ll only tire her out and she has experiments to take part in!”

“Oh, sorry.” Pete responded sarcastically. “I’d forgotten it was lab rat first, and child second in this place.”

Dr. James seethed, extending his hand towards his daughter. “Come on Charlotte.”

“Yes Dad.” Pete watched his little sister move obediently towards her Father. He dropped the pillow back onto the bed.

“Good girl.” Dr James placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder, before turning to Pete. “We’ll talk later.”

“I’m sure.” Pete muttered, as he followed them out of the room and back out into the corridor.

They moved further into the laboratory, eventually reaching a room where another session of experiments and tests for Charlotte were being prepared by Marie.

Sitting himself down at the desk, Dr. James began fiddling with equipment and making notes. “Thanks

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Marie. Can you set up the diagnostics program for Charlotte’s next session on monitor two? Keep the results from the last test on monitor one.” Dr. James continued to scribble on his notepad, muttering under his breath. “I swear that boy deliberately times his arrivals to throw Charlotte off.” He closed the notepad and swivelled his chair around, precisely facing Pete. “In future, please try and stick to visiting in the times I give you Pete, there is a reason for them.”

He looked at Pete. He’d spent endless amounts of money on him as a child, just trying to make him dress that little bit smarter, be more presentable. Dr. James couldn’t remember the last time he saw Pete even holding the chinos he’d bought him one Christmas. He’d never get anywhere dressed like that. How one dressed and conducted oneself was critical. It reflected your entire persona. What more could he do?

Pete responded, “What’s the point? If I come when you ask me to, she’s either asleep, or awake and exhausted. I deserve quality time with my little sister, not just a measly few minutes at the end of the day when she’s shattered from being your guinea pig.”

“Either way, Pete, you’re a huge distraction to her,” Dr. James returned to his computer, “and if the test is spoiled the first time, then we only have to repeat it again, you know that. So why do you do it? If you want Charlotte to ever be well enough to leave here, then slowing down the testing is the most redundant action you can take. Be pro-active Pete. Help her,

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don’t handicap her.” “Maybe you should just leave her alone, let her live like a normal kid.” “You know that’s not possible,” Dr. James began to lecture, “Even if we didn’t conduct tests on her, in her current state she’d still have to stay down here, alone.

Wouldn’t you rather give some purpose to all this, rather than just ignoring something that causes your sister so much pain.” Pete muttered something. Dr. James returned to his screens. He leaned forward and spoke into the microphone. “Okay, Charlotte. We’re going to start the next series of tests in a moment.

Marie will come in in a minute to check everything. If you could just lie on your bed and try to relax.” Before Dr. James could release the talk button on the microphone, Pete muttered something at the Doctor.

It was faint, but loud enough for Charlotte to hear the remnants of Pete’s voice. “Is Pete still there?”

Charlotte asked, her voice slightly higher pitched in a way that told Pete she was uncomfortable, if not panicked. Dr. James turned round, scowling at Pete.

He turned back to the microphone, “We’ll send Pete in, in a little bit. I really need you to focus now though.” “Ok, dad.” Charlotte said, sitting down at the table, reaching for the bundle of wires and sensors which needed to be applied before the experiment could begin. Dr. James turned to Pete, while Marie went into Charlotte’s room to help her put her wires on. The Doctor ran his hand through his hair. “Now she’s not going to relax, she’ll be think-

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ing about you. You know how much she dotes on you, but that doesn’t help. The more you distract her the longer the whole thing takes. So can you just keep out of the way while we do this, please?” Dr. James returned to the one-way observation window.

Marie came back into the laboratory. She looked at Pete. They looked at Charlotte through the glass as she, barely visible under the sensors stuck all over her face, neck and shoulders, prepared to start the experiment. “Right, let’s get going.” Dr. James turned to his computer. Marie sat down at a computer on the other side of the laboratory. Pete let himself watch her, rather than Charlotte, just for a second. The tests were always non-aggressive, but lengthy and intensive. It was obvious that Dr. James wanted to deduce what it was that affected Charlotte, but in a way that would cause as little suffering as possibly. They assessed Charlotte’s range of motor and sensory skills, bombarding her with tasks to perform like an animal in a cage. Charlotte’s hearing, balance, speech and vision were always being tested in exhaustive examinations. The process often took a number of hours. Today’s task involved different lighting effects flashing through the room, while Charlotte continued reading from a science journal. “Right, Charlotte.” The Doctor interrupted, switching the lights back to normal. “How many pages did you read?”

“Thirty-seven,” came the reply. “Charlotte, put the journal into the drawer in the desk please.” Char-

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lotte did so. “Now, I want you to recite those pages to me, verbatim, without looking at the journal. Do you understand me?” “Yes, dad.” Pete could tell she was bored from the droning tone in her voice. “And if you could also tell me was happening to the light at the time.” “Alright. At first the light was red with a blue filtered strobe. ‘The properties of the centronuclear myopathic muscle cell are many and varied...”’

And so she began, reciting word for word from the journal, a copy of which the Doctor kept on the desk in front of him. As always she remembered each term, description or clause, perfectly, while data streamed into the diagnostic computers. Although Pete was proud of his sister’s intelligence, memory, and mental agility, he could not help but be anxious about the amount of machinery that she was hooked up to. The whole process was probably doing more harm than good. The Doctor always noted down every number, every detail of every experiment by hand, frustrated each time as no matter how he altered the test, the data, while unusual, was still consistent, relentless in its cryptic design. It was the same every day. After a number of hours Charlotte began to show signs of exhaustion, after hours of relentless examination, and task after task, the tests were stopped. Pete could see how drained his step-father and Charlotte were.

He chose not to make fun, not this time. Instead he returned his eyes to Marie. After a few minutes, Dr. James stood up and went into Charlotte’s room to

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check on her. Marie stood up and walked towards the computer that Dr. James was working at. She turned around and Pete caught her eye with his own, “Been up to much besides work lately?” That was a rubbish question and Pete knew it.

Graciously she answered. “Not really, work takes up a lot of my time.” Marie glanced back at her computer terminal. “I didn’t think you’d get out much, working in the lab and all.” Marie wasn’t impressed.

“Thanks.” “No!” Pete backtracked, “I mean... I’m guessing you don’t get much of a chance to get out, y’know, out at night into Cambridge. At least, not with a workaholic like my step-dad as your boss.”

He cracked a smile. It was politely returned. “No. Well, getting out occasionally would be good, but I don’t know too many people around here, other than your father. I mean, step-father.” Now Marie smiled properly. There was long pause as they both searched their minds, trying to think of another question. “Well, I should go...” He noticed Dr. James leaving the testing room. Marie smiled to herself as he walked away, checked herself and returned to her terminal. “You alright, Lottie?” He asked, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Yeah.” She replied, though he could see how tired she was. “I’ve got it!” Said the Doctor. “Next time we’ll ensure that the journal is placed in a lead lined box. Then we’ll know if the ability is purely memory based, or paranormal.” “As if that kind of memory is normal!”

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Pete scoffed. “The point is:” The Doctor said, ignoring Pete and Charlotte entirely, “Is she psychic?” *

*

*

Antony was ushered into the room by Jones, his chief aide. He looked around at the five or so faces in suits against the walnut-panelling. He sighed and took a seat at the head of the table. He interlaced his fingers and leaned forward.

“Alright then, show me why I continue to bother employing the five of you to do a job I could do in 5 minutes on the Internet.” The advisers looked worriedly at each other. One was visibly sweating. Something about Antony obviously made them feel uncomfortable. One of them mumbled to another. The second advisor nodded and looked towards Antony.

“Well... The...uh...” He flicked through his notes, desperately trying to make it look casual. “The violence in Northern Ireland has escalated.”

“And why would I care about that? The first thing you bring up is an irrelevance. What does Northern Ireland matter to me?”

“Well, the military are spending more on the Northern Ireland than RAD for any alien related activity.

And Northern Ireland does fall under the Home Departments’ responsibility, but of course, you already knew that, Sir.”

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Another advisor looked up, ready to take the heat from his colleague and continue the suggested line of conversation himself.

“With Scotland and Wales already sending troops into the conflict areas, England cannot be seen to fall behind in the race to stabilise Belfast. The Welsh already have Dundrum Bay and Downpatrick, and the Scots have practically annexed Antrim. We simply cannot afford to lose any more ground on our already precarious foothold. We’ve got orders from above.

There is simply no money to spend on alien RAD” Antony simply nodded. “Congratulations on continuing to point out the bleeding obvious. Don’t tell me how the money isn’t getting to us, tell me HOW we can get it.” He pointed at one of the still-silent advisers. “You. Anything change at U.N. while I was at my Press Conference?”

“Well Sir, there’s nothing coming from there either. I mean, since the the super powers went into isolation, there is no real muscle there. The last real country to go was Germany when they followed us out. The only country with any serious money on the security council is Switzerland, and even they wouldn’t give us any aid.”

“So the big money is out then. I hope for your sakes this isn’t all you’ve looked into. At least give me some of the latest activity.”

The advisers all looks to each other again. Jones took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Well...as you

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know.”

“Jones. If i know it, why are you telling me?”

“Well, Sir. They still seem reluctant, to say the least, To go either way. Zero contact, zero aggression in the last week. We’re of course still looking into ways of reaching them, but so far.. nothing. The Belgians sent up a plane for some reason into the kilometre zone so they got that. Hardly newsworthy though.”

“It’s almost like they are happy to just sit there and mess with our television signals.”

Jones shot a halting glare at the young advisor at the back, who immediately went back to looking at the desk. “As I was saying, sir, communication seems like a no-go. There have been unconfirmed reports abroad this week that these... things have come down and made some kind of contact. Some have said experiments. But all these are vague preliminary reports. The international situation means that getting hard facts is...Well...Impossible.”

“Impossible? There is no such thing as impossible.

Keep trying until something happens. You are all obsolete until you prove otherwise. I want something new. Not old news or bad news. New news and useful news is all I want” “Well, sir...”

“Jones? Hesitation is the second worst kind of weakness.”

“Well, sir... There is one thing. A girl.”

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“A girl?”

“She’s been... receiving signals... Ones similar to those we received reports of, that were potentially causing deaths shortly after the aliens first arrived.”

“What do you mean signals? How is a little girl helpful to us right now?”

“And behaving... oddly...”

“Oddly? Oddly how? Oddness is not interesting Jones.”

“They think she’s talking to the aliens somehow.

Her father’s a doctor, he has her under observation at his private facility.”

“Observation? She’s under OBSERVATION?” Jones started to look anxious.

“Yes, sir. She is...”

“There is possibly a human in contact with the aliens. Possibly a human who is an alien herself, a direct link to the aliens, a way for England to be great and we are merely letting her father sit there observing her?”

“We don’t have reason to suspect that...”

“Alien signals are the greatest threat. When they began there were countless deaths...”

“But sir, those reports weren’t ever confirm-” Antony stood up and leaned across the desk. The rest of the advises sank back further into their suits.

“JONES! WHY IS SHE BEING OBSERVED? THEY SHOULD BE CUTTING HER UP!” Jones was taken aback. “Sir, I’m not sure that’s

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necessary.”

Antony calmed down a little. He took his seat again, waving an outstretched finger at Jones. “I want to go to this lab. I need to know what they are doing. I’m not having this opportunity wasted by peace mongers or sensitive fathers too scared to do what is needed and what is best for the country.

We are going down there right now.”

“Sir...”

“Jones. We are going. This is my responsibility now.”

Jones gave a resigned nod. “Of course, sir. I’ll arrange it right away.”

“And get me a meeting with someone from the military. Someone important Jones, someone who can get things done!”

Jones mumbled another “Of course sir.” *

*

*

Noah opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his cabin, lit only by the moonlight though a porthole. He knew that if he looked out he would see the strange craft shining by the horizon, masquerading as stars.

For ten years he had prayed nightly for an explanation from the Almighty. Why were they here? Where was God when the sun was cast in shadow? Were

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they a blessing or a curse? Or even a warning? They hovered above. Ready to create plagues, darkness, pandemonium. But ten years on, and there had been no plague, no Judgement. The world had paid no heed to the omen. They had not felt the true power of 11-8.

These ‘new stars’ could be dark forms of angels, sent down to guard God’s children. If only he could be certain. What glorious work would he not do in the Lord’s name? Noah had prayed and waited, and waited and prayed, for a sign from God that he could follow.

Now his dream had told him. He had his answer.

He rose and left for the bridge. The ship must change its course. They were heading to Biarritz.

The cargo would rot but Noah was ready for the crew’s wrath. He followed the orders of a higher power. *

*

*

Antony stared at the painting on the wall opposite him. It was the only bit of promise in this whole room. He shouldn’t have to wait for his meeting with the head of the military operations. Antony knew the Major had a reputation as a master tactician. This waiting was obviously a strategy. Make Antony see his place. Make him stew for a bit, while the Major’s

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assistants fetched him in.

The painting showed an army general, sword held aloft while riding a rearing steed. His army stretched behind him. A proper military painting. On the wall behind him was a still life. No place for flowers in a military establishment. He stood up again and began pacing. He threw the occasional look of malice towards a woman behind the small desk. Finally on one of these looks, she met his gaze and formed her mouth into an attempted smile at Antony. He was not the kind of man who drew many smiles.

“The Major will see you now.”

Antony walked towards the door with a pained expression on his face. It could have been from the cheap plastic chair that he was forced to sit in while waiting for the Major to be ready for him. More likely it was the expression of a man who had got used to not having to wait around in this kind of room. The idea of having a distinctly Belgian-looking young lady tell him when he could and when he couldn’t enter a room left a distinctly nasty taste in his mouth. The door opened with a creak. He disliked creaky doors, a sign of inefficiency, clumsiness, laziness. As soon as he entered the office he knew the creak was the least of his worries. The Major had knick -knacks on his desk. A picture of a loved one was alright. Necessary, in fact, in Parliament, where one was forced to prove one’s family was both nuclear and genuine at least three times a day. But model planes? A Ru-

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bik’s cube? Unprofessional and out of touch. Antony liked to summarise new people he met in two words.

He had an organiser full of such entries.

“Major Malcolm.” An ageing dry hand extended out towards Antony, who paused for a couple of seconds before fixing a large white smile and reaching out himself.

“Antony McCrea. It’s a pleasure...Sir.” The Major indicated a chair, which Antony ignored. The Major moved into his own chair. “So what has earned me the pleasure of a visit from the new Secretary of State for the Home Department and Alien Affairs?”

“Well, as you are aware I am proposing sweeping changes to the government’s attitude towards the infestation problem we are experiencing.”

“Infestation?”

“The...Aliens.” Antony’s face contorted into a grimace as his mouth formed this word. “Yes, we are changing from passive pussyfooting around, messing about with trying to communicate to preparing for a pre-emptive retaliation to the expected aggression.”

“Expected aggression?” The Major battled against a grin, his lips fighting to hold back something that part of him wanted said.

“Yes you see the...Aliens have been here for almost 10 years now, so it is to be expected that eventually they will turn aggressive, and all our predictions suggest that some such act is imminent. Surely as a

29

military man you would understand the chess game that we are partaking in here.”

“I’m not sure I do, there seems to have been no indication that they are aggressors. 10 Years of peace.

Why not 10 more Secretary?” Antony’s mouth twitched slightly at the corner.

“I see. Now as much as I do obviously...” He hesitated, “...respect peace mongers such as yourself, and my assistant informs me you have had a highly decorated career. Would it not be best that someone with as deep roots as you have in the great history of our country, leave the future to us? Peace mongering is a dangerous thing at this time, especially for one in such a...useful position as yourself.”

“What role exactly do you see the military having?”

“I would have thought that would be obvious to someone as experienced as you.”

“No it’s not Secretary.” The Major was beginning to lose patience with Antony, one thing he deserved was respect and he had become accustomed to getting it.

“Well of course we have limited resources available, but eventually we may require the force that you have at your fingertips. We are also aware of the large research and development budget you have. Of course it may have appeared to you for it to be useful spending millions of the taxpayers pounds on developing communication and alien relation technology.

30

And I don’t want to say that I think it was a waste time but...”

The Major leaned forward, saying, “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Antony’s unmoving smile remained. “I do as a matter of fact. A washed up has-been who is illprepared and ill-informed and should be worrying about his dodgy heart and his own future.”

The Major touched his chest briefly. Not even his second-in-command knew about his condition. He hesitated. “Please sit down, Secretary.”

Antony preferred to stay standing for as long as possible. Looming over a seated colleague always helped the exchanges move in his favour. “It’s Antony, please Major.” Tony took his seat obediently, like a teenage boy being told off but with the knowledge he has rattled his parent.

The Major picked up his Rubik’s cube and began to assemble it in the right order, slowly with real purpose. “You can trust me Secretary.”

Antony’s eyes didn’t leave the twisting of hands around the Rubik’s cube. He had seen people take ages to do these things. The Major’s dark, hairy fingers moved smartly but slowly over the surface.

Antony himself would have finished it by now.

“Secretary, my heart is fine.” The Major placed the completed Rubik’s cube on his desk. He stood up and walked to a model plane hanging from the ceiling. A 1:40 scale B29 Superfortress . He touched

31

a wing, spinning it around. He paused. He rested his fingers gently on the nose of the plane, delicately stopping it with his huge paw-like hand.

Antony, impatient, interrupted his reverie, “A fine model you have there. A spitfire is it?”

The Major shook his head, stifling a chuckle at Antony’s painful attempt at small talk, and chose to ignore it. “As you know, Secretary, my retirement plans are underway but I must insist that I be allowed to carry out my duties to the best of my ability and as I see fit.”

“Why not think of early retirement? No-one of your stature remains in their job until actual retirement age. There’s too much chance in the later years for things to catch up, for old age to leave you detached from modern life. Don’t get involved in this, leave it to me, I would make sure that you were honoured in the right way.”

The Major sighed. He despaired of people these days. No respect any more, their selfish ambition more important than anything. He would never have spoken this way to a Major.

“I wouldn’t want to force this upon you but I am becoming very concerned that you are not taking the safety of my people, our people seriously!” Antony continued.

Angered but trying to maintain his composure, he sat back down opposite Antony. Holding his gaze for a moment, he stared into the Minister’s cold blue

32

eyes. His own were a deep brown that had even darker rings just below them. He could hold someone’s gaze. He took another deep breath. Reaching for his pocket he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He then pulled out a lighter that flashed silver with the words ‘To My Malcolm’. He lit up and took a slow, delicious drag. He offered the packet to Antony.

“I don’t smoke.” Antony was trying his hardest to remain straight-faced and smiling, hiding the disgust that was itching at him as he watched the smoke rise upwards to a yellowing ceiling. A filthy habit.

“Listen, Secretary...” The Major clutched his chest and coughed, the dry rattle of years of experience.

The sound of mucus shifting in the Major’s chest was repellent. Another sign of weakness. A sign that he was on the way out.

“You are not a well man Malcolm.” Antony got up from his seat.

“It’s Major Roth. And sit down.” Then as an afterthought, “Please.”

“Look Major, we could sit here smoking what is left of your life away and chatting about planes and how things may have been better in the old days.

But I am a man of action and a busy man at that. I need your support to go and visit a civilian facility.

I believe that a subject of the utmost importance is contained there. We do not have funds or resources enough by ourselves to investigate this further. With your help we can fulfil this subject’s potential.

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“Can’t you see Major? They’re winning. They’re up there laughing at us wasting time on petty fighting amongst ourselves. Do one final useful thing before you retire to obscurity. Follow me to this lab. I have a list here of resources I need.” Antony snapped open a black briefcase, passing a large document over the desk. The Major stifled another cough and took the papers.

“What if I don’t want to co-operate?” The Major understood that things were not going his way.

He hadn’t experienced this before, he wonder for the briefest of moments if he was drinking too much.

“I have the ear of many important people. Let’s not rock the boat so close to your retirement. If you want to rock it feel free. But I warn you the sea is mighty cold, and not the place for a man of your...advanced years. I’m sure we could do great things if we work together. I’m sure I could do great things without your help. But I’m trying to help you here.”

“Well it looks like I have little choice, Secretary.”

He was surprised how easily he had given up.

“You have many choices Malcolm, but only one is right.”

The Major looked at the papers again closely, at the top of the document he read the heading, ‘Case Study: Female, 12 Years.’ “A little girl?”

“Desperate times Major. Desperate Times...”

“But a little girl?” The Major saw how things

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were already in motion. He had never liked the Government. Even back when he first started they were always problems. Threats and ultimatums, one-sided negotiation. There was never any real choice.

“Fine then Secretary. I’ll be in contact.” The Major thought he would have to play the political game.

“Good Major. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the near future. I look forward to it.”

The Major ignored Antony’s outstretched hand, and walked over to the window. He peered through the blinds at Antony’s entourage, his flashy car to match his flashy suit. Typical, “I shall see you in Cambridge then Secretary. I’m sure you can find your way out.” *

*

*

Pete was driving back from the laboratory towards the centre of Cambridge . He had always hated the tiny village of Coton where the bunker was situated.

It only had one shop and a cattery. It was bad enough that the lab wasn’t in the actual university. If it had been then at least he would have been able to see Charlotte more often.

“Oh well.” He sighed to himself, “At least I get to see her.”

He stopped at the traffic lights and gazed out of the window. Looking upwards, he saw the ominous

35

alien ship in the distance, scarring the clear blue sky like some grotesque mole. He returned his eyes to the road, the light had changed green and he moved off without delay. With his foot on the accelerator, he switched on the radio, almost as a habit. Flicking through radio stations, Pete was fed up of hearing the same, regurgitated music over and over again.

He decided to settle on a station playing the news.

“And now we go live to Westminster, where newly appointed minister Antony McCrea is in the middle of his first day as the Secretary of State for the Home Department and Alien Affairs.”

About time. Maybe this guy would sort the whole mess out. Indeed, as far as he was concerned, the sooner these aliens left, the sooner he would get his sister back.

Pete wasn’t a violent person and yet he was not a pacifist. He knew a change would have to happen, needed to happen, not only for his sister, but for the restless minds of the world. Although Pete’s knowledge of Antony was limited, he still knew this man had a rather dark past, it had been leaked to the newspapers. But then it was clear that none of the other ridiculous politicians had made any head-way so maybe the more questionable ones would have the answers.

For a millisecond Pete’s mind flickered upon the image of Charlotte being let out of the bunker, facing the aliens and ridding both himself and Lottie of

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the terrible burden. That was his dream. His mind flicked again and he saw Lottie’s delicate body crumpled beneath an alien ship. That was his nightmare.

Guilty for even thinking these things at all, Pete concentrated on the road.

Chapter 2

Everyone had seen it, when one of them fell out of the sky. 8th October, 2011, less than a month after their arrival, one of the alien ships crashed into Earth. It crashed to earth over the Algarve, sending most of Southern Portugal into the ocean.

The entire world was in the grip of pandemonium.

Was it an attack? Was it an accident? Should we fight back? Could we fight back? The world cried out in the following months, only to be met with its own silent reflection in the underbelly of the remaining vessels. For a time, it looked like it would galvanise people. Countries talked to each other. It was agreed that the nuclear arms race would be put on hold until the alien situation was under control. Men in suits shook hands, posed for photographs, smiled. Humanitarian aid, relief workers and scientists from across the globe were sent to Portugal. After eight months of working as one, the countries of the earth managed to dredge up parts of the craft from the bottom of the ocean. The technology was far in advance of

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anything the earth had produced. A mixture of organic and synthetic materials made up what was thought to be the hull. It was almost as if the ships were alive. The world’s finest minds could not understand it, let alone make it function. For the first time, people began to think of possibilities as realities. Sinister cogs began to turn in the minds of those high up enough to see what the discovery really meant. If someone, somewhere, could open a dialogue with the aliens and they could be traded with, the possibilities were limitless. If the new information and technology were shared with all nations, there would be a second Renaissance.

However, if one nation could make first contact alone, then they could use the alien technology to further their own needs. They could emerge from the fray as a Superhuman power. Slowly, international diplomacy ebbed away, replaced by vitriolic chest-thumping. The U.S. withdrawal from the U.N. started a chain reaction of countries removing themselves from international affairs and working to consolidate their own strength. After the appointment of Antony McCrea, the whispers started. They gathered in momentum, word even got round to England’s neighbours. Rumour had it that McCrea knew something the rest of the world didn’t.

*

*

*

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Antony arrived at the laboratory, his designer shoes clipping smartly on the linoleum. He entered the foyer, where the Major was waiting. The Major rose from a chrome chair. A lab assistant came to greet them, and asked them to follow her into the laboratory. They approached a thick-looking door, which the lab assistant opened. Antony walked on ahead, into the laboratory, while the Major hung back, held the door for the assistant, and followed her through.

Dr James saw them enter but held up a hand as he finished making notes. The assistant indicated some chairs. The Major thanked her. Antony stood, watching the Doctor. Why would someone with access to all this technology still rely on writing something down? Having completed his notes, the Doctor turned to face the Major and Antony.

“Good morning gentlemen. My name is Edmund James,” he said, gesturing to the room, “and this is my research laboratory.” He moved to shake hands.

He looked Antony directly in the eye, shaking his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you secretary, I’ve been following you on the news recently. Quite a development.” “I’ve recently been acquainted with your fine work myself. I believe that...” But Antony was cut off as Dr James quickly moved to shake hands with the Major. “Hello, sir, I’m Dr James.” Dr James shook the Major’s hand, as Antony reapplied his gleaming white smile. “Major Malcolm Roth, it’s

40

a pleasure. Thank you for letting us interrupt you, Doctor. I’m sure you’re a busy man.” Dr James appreciated the courtesy, from one professional to another. “Not at all, Major. Although I must admit I am slightly unsure as to what I can do for you gentlemen.” He pointed to two chairs, waiting for the two to sit down before returning to his own seat.

Introductions over, Antony began the conversation.

“Well Doctor. I’ve been recently informed of the rather ambiguous capabilities of your subject.” Dr James frowned. “You mean my daughter?” “Yes...”

Antony sneered. “Anyway, my advisors seemed to think you had made progress in the understanding of communications from the alien ships. From what they told me it sounds as though the progress is somewhat more gradual than one would have expected from a man of your standing.” He leaned back, “I thought it would be in the government’s best interest to come and see just exactly what that was that you have been spending your time doing here. Whether aid from the government, and others more experienced in matters of this kind of sensitivity would expedite the research process, and possibly accelerate the arrival of some concrete results. Naturally, as the Secretary of State for the Home Department and Alien Affairs, I’ve been given authority over all alien research and so you come firmly under the remit of my power, and my plans to revolutionise our approach.” “I see, and how is the military involved in all

41

this?” The Doctor asked, addressing the Major. The Major went to speak, but Antony interrupted him.

“Oh, well Doctor, it’s all just procedure, we’re always interested in the most advanced research projects, in regards to the alien presence.” “My daughter is not a ‘research project’. Everything I am doing here is for her benefit, at the moment, at least until I can ascertain what she is experiencing. I am a father as well as a scientist, gentlemen.” The Doctor was clearly affronted. “My apologies Dr James.” Antony said, half-truthfully. The Doctor stood up and walked towards the one-way window that looked into the Testing Suite. Antony and the Major followed him to the window. “This is Charlotte,” he said. The Major was instantly struck by the room. The clinical whiteness and the fluorescent lighting. What sort of environment was this for a child? Antony glanced through the window, prompting a sudden flash of memory. A seemingly normal room that did not really belong in this clinical setting. A memory of his past, a facility like this. Memories long ago stifled, and quickly pushed back before they brought out any emotion on his face. As he took in the rest of the room his eyes brightened for a moment as he took in the equipment. Potential maybe. But there was no indication of any alien activity, no sign of something really interesting. “I must say, Doctor, I am very interested in the potential of the project.” “Well, I suppose, for the sake of efficiency, I should give you an explana-

42

tion of the purpose of the research I’m carrying out.”

The Doctor said, ignoring Antony’s comment. “I first started studying Charlotte approximately nine years ago, just after the arrival of the alien ships.” He faced Antony, as he knew that, regardless of the Major’s rank, Antony was in charge. “I did not see the link initially, but after they had settled in the sky, Charlotte’s health started to fluctuate. By this point I had established myself at the university, and so I was eligible for generous amounts of funding. I explained to the board that, with time, I may be able to uncover a causal link between the alien’s presence and a new illness that had surfaced since their arrival.” “Radiation?” The Major asked. “That was my initial theory, but after further research, and an absence of other cases globally, I came to believe that it was something more specifically related to Charlotte.” He turned to look at his daughter. “That was five years ago, and I’ve been constructing hypotheses, tests and compiling results since then. The only established result I have, so far, is that Charlotte is receiving some form of signal, but I cannot deduce what that is. There is also an apparent increase in these communications when Charlotte sleeps, or begins to relax, but this is relatively new data.” Antony was gave the Doctor a look of surprise. “So ten years of research, and you have no answers, Doctor?” “Research is a slow process Minister, it cannot be rushed, as the smallest of errors can result in the redundancy

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of years of research. You must understand that my priority is Charlotte’s health, and anything which arises from this, any data, I will happily pass on to the government.” “I see.” said Antony, rising and pacing the room. “This is rather a disappointment, Doctor.

I want actions, development, answers.” He smacked his hand into his palm. “The country needs answers.”

“Can we meet Charlotte?” The Major interjected, feeling a disagreement arising. “Perhaps that would help to show you what we are doing here.” Dr James replied, turning to Antony, “Minister, would you like to meet my daughter?” Antony remained seated, “Not just yet, doctor. I’ll leave the Major to it. I feel that you and I need further discussion pertaining to the nature of your research.”

As the Doctor re-entered, Antony was looking at a readout screen. Numbers and calculations were streaming continuously downwards. He thought that if he was given some time, he could probably have worked in an environment like this. After all he dealt with numbers and formulae every day. It was simply that his mattered to the real world. In fact, it was just this real world perspective that the otherwise pristine laboratory was lacking. He ran a finger along the base of the monitor. No dust. Impressive. “So what have you learnt from this little project, so far, Dr James?”

Dr James looked up and met Antony’s charmless, hollow stare. It was as if he could already feels his

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hold over Charlotte slipping. In those eyes he saw none of the compassion he felt for her. “As I told you, at the moment, Charlotte’s testing is just an attempt by myself to deduce exactly what she can do.”

Attempting to keep his voice calm and firm. “But if it can contribute to the resolution of our predicament, I will of course pass on any data of value.”

Antony was unimpressed. “I must say, Dr James, I am amazed at how you manage to carry out such research on your own daughter. Obviously one day I envisage myself having a son, but I don’t think I could ever work with him.” He paced the room. “There would be such a temptation to sacrifice one’s objectivity, when things such as love and family come into things.” He walked towards a computer desk and sat down on a chrome chair. “It really is an incredible laboratory you have here. It’s all private? All yours?”

Dr James walked away from the window, glancing one last time at Charlotte before sitting down and facing Antony.

“Yes. As I said, it is all funded and expanded through research and funding from the university, steadily, over nine years.”

“What are we really accomplishing here though? I mean of course it’s lovely and nice for you too carry on playing your strange game of happy families here.

And of course Charlotte’s well being and protection is paramount, it should never be far from the mind

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of anyone here. But, Dr James, what about the protection of the people?

Antony leaned forward.

“She’s my little...”

“Doctor, these aliens could attack at any day. Every single day that goes past here without answers, without a breakthrough as to what their secrets are, up there, we may be taking a step nearer to our collective demise. We have been given a gift. A revelation. Hope. That is what your daughter is Dr James.

Hope! The possible answer being tiptoed around in a university lab, in Cambridge, by her own father.

This is not in the interest of the people! If we had known about this years ago the war may have already been fought and won. The answers locked up in your daughter waiting to be revealed. Waiting to deliver us to a final glorious victory.”

Dr James turned away from Antony. He walked slowly over to a black box on the wall adjoining the lab. Keeping his back turned to Antony, he pressed a large button and spoke into a speaker, “Major, I believe Antony is ready to leave.”

“You want to be careful, doctor. I can be a very useful man to have on your side. I either fight for you, alongside you, or against you. You don’t want to get into that fight, as I assure you that you won’t win. I shall take your precious daughter from you, if I must.”

The Doctor turned on the spot to face Antony. His

46

fists were clenched at his side. Antony met his gaze though, a steely resolve in his eyes that Dr James knew he couldn’t match. The doctor opened his mouth as if about to reply, but then walked past Antony to the door into Charlotte’s room, where he stood silently waiting for the Major to exit. *

*

*

The testing room was bleak at best. In the centre of the room the girl sat behind a table, which she was patiently examining. She did not even look up.

“Hello,” She said. “I’d look up but I have to concentrate right now.”

Finding a spare chair at the edge of the room, the Major pulled it up next to her, sitting himself down carefully as to not interrupt her.

“Hello, you must be Charlotte. My name is Malcolm, I work with your father.” His smooth deep voice was often soothing.

“I haven’t met you before.” There was no fear in her voice, he noted, looking at the intensity of her expression. She was calm as she stated what was on her mind.

“No.” He responded, smiling as a strand of white blonde hair fell over her almond-shaped face. “I’m new here.” He watched her tuck the strand behind her ear, a gesture so reminiscent of his own daughter.

Before her was an object that the Major had orig-

47

inally mistaken for a table. Now he could see how wrong he had been. She was looking at a maze. Two layers of Perspex sandwiching a mass of transparent Perspex walls, hidden obstacles and dead ends. A ball bearing sat in the corner farthest from her. Her eyes flickered intently over the labyrinth.

“What exactly is it that you have to do Charlotte?”

“Well,” Charlotte leant over, peering at a small obstruction, a piece of mirror. “The timer over there is counting down from two minutes. I have to complete the maze, and get the ball bearing out before the time is up.”

“That’s very impressive.” He said, as a buzzer went off in the corner.

“Thanks!” Charlotte smiled sweetly at him as she reached under the table. “Could you set the timer for me?”

The Major’s eyes widened as she fastened a blindfold over her eyes. “Of course.” He reached for the stopwatch as Charlotte placed her hands equidistant on the top of the maze. He squeezed the button on the timer. “Go.” With her eyes covered, Charlotte began to manipulate the table on its springs. The ball bearing clattered rapidly from obstacle to obstacle, moving across the table at a ferocious speed. The Major watched in open amazement as, within thirty seconds, Charlotte caught the silvery ball bearing in the palm of her hand.

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“Test Complete.” The speaker in the corner confirmed with the sound of an automated voice.

Pulling off her blindfold, Charlotte looked at the Major. Her dark, wide eyes were startlingly bright.

“Would you like the ball bearing?” She offered him the silvery ball. He was taken aback and surprised by her generosity, he hadn’t received a gift from anyone in years.

“Thank you.” He took it in his hand as she beamed at him. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Of course not.” She turned to face him more fully, her intense gaze fixed upon his face.

“Do you like it here Charlotte?”

She thought for a second, her brow furrowed. “I don’t really think that that’s the point.”

The Major was perplexed. “How so?”

“I was sick when I was outside, very sick. When I’m in here that doesn’t happen. You’ve got to understand that I’m safer in here.”

“I do, but there must be things you miss?”

She smiled sadly. “Of course. I miss the sun. I miss the wind....What’s the weather like today?”

“Horrible. It’s raining.”

“I miss that.”

The speaker crackled into life. “Major, I believe Antony is ready to leave.”

The Major nodded at the mirror. “Alright. Well thank you for talking to me young lady.”

“It was nice to meet you, Malcolm. Goodbye.”

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The Major walked to the door, and held the door knob. He was in amazement at what he had witnessed. A girl that age with the perception of a fighter pilot. The mental ability to decode something that quickly. It was truly remarkable. He looked over his shoulder at Charlotte. All that ability, and yet she is so humble, so reserved. The cost of greatness. *

*

*

In the observation room, Dr James stared blankly thought the window. Antony planted his hand firmly on the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Look, this is how it is.” Antony was in his stride.

“I won’t sugar coat it any more. The subject is one person. One person Dr James. How many people are there in the country? In the world? Her wellbeing will be ensured to the fullest extent possible, but as I have said, this is our chance. You are wasting it. You have wasted it for years.” He gestured upwards. “While they are planning their attacks you have been sitting here upon the solution to our problem. I will report back to Westminster, and I expect your cooperation with my recommendations. Things will begin to move. Progress will be made. Without drastic changes, or improvements in the efficiency of the research, I can’t see your work being of much use to the government. So you either refuse our help and

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lose your daughter. We do have the power to seize her as valuable property in the fight against the alien menace. Or, of course, you can help us and together we will help her to help the world.”

“Well, I do apologise, Mr McCrea. I will, of course, inform you if any information does come to my attention. However, my priority is Charlotte’s safety, above results, I am running things to the limit as they are. I cannot guarantee Charlotte’s safety if the process is accelerated. You must realise that science is vastly different to politics. There are breakthroughs, of course, but they only come through after years and years of research.” The Doctor fought hard to keep the anger out of his voice. “If only it could be more like your world where things happen instantly!

Unfortunately, the ethics of science are much more stringent than those endorsed at Westminster.”

He hesitated. “That is not against you, Mr. McCrea, but I have dealt with politicians for many years, it is a necessary evil in my line of work.” He straightened his name badge on his lab coat. “Anyway, I must return to work now. Charlotte’s tests operate on a strict time schedule, and there’s no room for error, especially if I am to produce more revealing answers, for people like yourself. Allow me to show you out. This place can seem like a bit of a maze until you spend enough time here. The Major should be with us any moment.”

Antony took a look around the lab and smiled

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again before walking out. The Major, re-entering the laboratory, saw Antony leaving. He threw a concerned look towards Dr James and followed him out.

Antony and the Major filed down the main corridor of the bunker followed by the Doctor. Antony stopped to allow the Major to catch him up.

“I hope you have seen everything you needed to gentlemen?” Said the Doctor.

“For the moment, Doctor, I would say yes, but expect to being seeing a lot more of both of us very soon.” Antony said flatly.

“Thank you very much for showing us round, your daughter is quite fascinating, I hope we will be able to do everything to help you.” The Major’s usual dulcet tone had escaped him as his voice had a slight quiver to it.

They walked on in awkward silence, the murmuring of the air conditioning machine providing a sound track. A woman emerged from a side door. She was wearing a white lab coat. Both the Major and Antony’s eyes were immediately drawn to her. She advanced towards them with a purposeful stride, a slight smile was on her face. The Major moved to the side to let her past, smiling back at her, the Major had once been quite the charmer and hoped those days had not completely deserted him. Antony, determined to get out of this place and submit his report while everything was still fresh in his memory, continued walking forwards while the other two had

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stopped. There was something about the woman that he did not like, but could not quite place it.

It didn’t matter though, she was unimportant.

As she moved past the three of them and away down the corridor she uttered a chirpy “Hello!” The Major and Dr James muttered greetings back, but Antony halted in his steps ahead of them. It was no longer as striking as it once was, but that short greeting from the woman had an unmistakable French accent. Antony whirled around on the spot and stared at her retreating back. Urging her to turn around and look at him in his proud English face. She did not turn round, so he had to make do with staring hatred at her through the door. It closed behind her with a muffled click.

Dr James and the Major were both looking at Antony with a wary expression. Neither had known him long but while the Major immediately grew to dislike him, Dr James grew to fear him. The severity of both his words and his actions showed a man not used to being crossed or questioned.

“Are you alright Antony?” The Major took a deep breath before saying this, knowing the can of worms that he was opening. Antony remained still for a few moments, his gaze at the door unflinching.

“Employ many foreigners do we Dr James?” His voice dripped with menace, and had the wavering tone of anger barely suppressed.

“Oh?” The Doctor hesitated, frowning. “Oh you

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mean Marie? We’ve all forgotten that she’s not English here these days. To be honest with you I don’t know what I would do without her. She’s been here so long it’s difficult to remember when she wasn’t around.”

Antony spoke through gritted teeth. “Well you may have conveniently forgotten her nationality, but things are different now. Gone are those horrible years when England was the dumping ground for all other nations’ effluence of people. Gone are the days when Tom, Dick and Harry were replaced with Tomas, Dirk and Hassan. It may have taken the aliens to do it, but we’re finally getting our England back. How does a Frenchy even get to such a position here? Is she even educated enough to be working around such complicated equipment?”

“She’s a highly qualified lab assistant, the best we’ve got. We used to have more, but when the money ran down we had to fire some, and Marie was last on the list of people I would get rid of around here. She’s amazing with Charlotte and unquestionably bright.”

“So you let her around the subject then? How can you put that much trust in a Frenchy? Don’t you know they can’t be trusted? I wouldn’t trust one to file my papers, let alone be around the most important object in our country at the moment!” Antony advanced as he talked, and was now almost face to face with Dr James.

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The Doctor protested. “Now hold on a...”

“No, you hold on! No wonder you’ve had no results! Not only are you too emotionally invested in this, putting your own daughter before the welfare of every other person in the world, but you’re knowingly and happily employing a Frenchy in a job at the heart of our country’s security? How much does she know? Do you know where she goes at night? Do you check her bags? Give her drugs tests? Have you taken any precautions at all?” Antony’s voice had increased in volume, until he was practically shouting in the Doctor’s face. “This just astounds me! Well...I would be more surprised if it was anywhere else, but it’s clear that you’re running a joke of an operation.

Why not employ a foreigner?”

“Now see here Mr McCrea, I know your party’s stance is blurred on the line of ‘so-called nationalism’, but that does not mean I must become racist to agree with policy. Most of this country is still open to foreign immigration, “I myself have a few...” The Major interjected.

There was no reason to exclude courtesy to the Doctor, at least not before Antony usurped him of his laboratory, which was seeming more and more likely.

Antony rounded on the Major. “Don’t you start!

This is typical of you peace mongering sorts! Never ready to make the difficult decisions the country needs at a time.”

“No, you listen, Secretary. If this place is going to

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be put over to a government research facility it cannot be done without the help of the military. That means that ultimately I am in charge and therefore make decisions. If this woman has worked here for this long without problem, why should there suddenly be one now? And it doesn’t matter whether she’s black, white, blue, green, brown, Belgian, French, German, or any other nationality. The fact is that Dr James values her and apparently she gets on well with Charlotte, so she should stay. Help the Doctor and Charlotte. After all, we’re meant to be looking out for them as well.”

Antony stood still for a moment, his fists clenched, as he looked the Major up and down. He had not been spoken to like that for many years. Even though most of the fibres of his body were busy spreading anger, he had a slight pang of respect for this show of force by the Major. Maybe he wasn’t quite so over-the-hill. “We’ll see who’s in charge.” He said bitterly, turning away from them both and marching loudly down the corridor.

The Major and Dr James looked at each other, sharing a bemused look of accidental complicity, and a small victory before following Antony off towards the exit. *

*

*

Pete’s day had been long and mind-numbing, but he

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was looking forward to seeing Lottie. Last time he had visited her, he had noticed the that her Safari collection was missing a lion. What would a safari be without the king of the jungle? He had decided to pick one up to give to her today. As he wandered along the high-street, glancing non-commitally into the reams of shops, his thoughts turned to Charlotte.

He remembered the first time he had held her. He remembered playing with her and their mother. There were so many silly little memories. He’d been so angry when they’d moved into the bunker, in some ways even more angry than when his Mother had died. He had tried to stay there for as long as possible, for Charlotte’s sake, but by the time he was sixteen he’d had enough. She was so forgiving, always happy to see him. Of course, he loved seeing her too. As odd as it may have sounded, she was the best friend he had. He loved daydreaming with her about the future. They’d go to Africa, do a safari, go to the Serengeti, live in the wild, in the open air.

When had Charlotte last seen the sun? It didn’t bear thinking about.

He smiled sadly. As much as he loved her, there were moments when he wished she could be more like a normal girl of her age. The equations and science, they just weren’t Lottie, at least not the Lottie he knew. If he could have had a pound for every time she’d asked him what the weather was like outside he’d be rich. Rich enough to take them both

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on a Safari. He’d done his research too. If they wanted a longer trip they could go round Kenya, even Botswana too. Not that it would ever happen.

But there was always hope. As he passed yet another drab shopfront, he spotted something. A small cuddly lion, just sat there in the gift shop window, staring at him. It was hardly a ticket to Africa, but it was the best he could do right now. She’d love it. Coming out of the shop, the small yellow lion in hand, he glanced at his watch - he must have been wandering for a while, he was late for visiting Charlotte. *

*

*

The Major watched Dr James’ retreating back as the doors to the facility shut behind him. He turned to talk to Antony, but saw that the Secretary had already made his way to the waiting black car that was ready to take them back to London. He breathed in the fresh, open air and reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette.

He had placed it in his lips and was reaching for his lighter when the shout came from Antony, “No time for that Malcolm. In here. Now. We need to be getting on.”

Malcolm thought about lighting up anyway, but he was pretty sure that Antony wouldn’t let him smoke during the journey. He admonished himself. If he

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wanted to smoke in the damn car - he would smoke.

There was something very disturbing in Antony’s attitude. The way he had acted back there with the French woman. The Major knew that he was out of his depth. Knew that however much he tried to convince himself it wasn’t true, Antony was in charge.

“Anytime today please, Malcolm.”

The Major hated that he had broke into a run briefly, before checking himself into a slow stride to the car. He did not run for anyone, he had not in years, and he wasn’t going to start now.

Antony had already started speaking as the Major got into his seat. “A bit disappointing wasn’t it? I suppose that was to be expected. This sort of thing shouldn’t be left to the masses should it?

And a Frenchwoman! I mean that really does take the biscuit doesn’t it. I was thinking it would be a ramshackle operation, but not a downright useless one.” He tapped irritatingly on the window frame.

“And did you see her room? Treating the subject like she is just a regular girl. They say they’re running low on funds and they spend money on toys and books!” Antony kept shaking his head, chuckling to himself. A look of amusement was fixed on his face, and he kept looking up at the Major, checking that he found this all as funny as he did.

The Major did not. “Well it seems as if they have a good little set-up to me. I mean she is only a little girl. I can’t really see what needs changing, maybe we

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can throw a bit more money at there, help the Doctor out. If her father buys her personal possessions out of his own wages...”

“And where do you think he gets those wages?

Think logically please Malcolm.” Antony replied. He shifted in the deep seats of the back of the car, turning to face the Major. His eyes were wide and he licked his lips excitedly.

There was something wild about his expression turned to look out of the window, but could feel Antony’s eyes still on the side of his face. A chill ran through his body. Antony’s laughter moments earlier had unnerved him. He did not know what would come next. Was another ideological rant about to unfold before him, or would Antony revert to the slimy, silver tongued politician? He turned, slowly, to meet Antony’s gaze.

“I can see it now. Beautiful. Barbed wire, 15 feet high. And behind - gun emplacement at regular intervals, 24 hours a day patrols. 3 squads of highly trained guards. State-of-the-art alarm systems. I’m talking about the highest security available, laser technology.” He pointed at the Major.

“You can do all this Malcolm. Think how you would protect your family if you knew a killer was after them. Then double that protection. That is what I want around that place. Make sure it’s mostly practical, but if you can get some of that showy stuff, you know, bright metal, big guns, something to show to

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the media. And inside. I want the top scientists, the top doctors, the top researchers. I want them all, and I want them yesterday. I want plans for experiments, as many as possible. Of course we don’t want to kill the subject, then she’ll be no use at all.

“But we can get rid of the room, the playthings.

Anything not directly linked to the experiments. Of course no media presence for this part, and I mean none. That means no questions asked, free reign to do what is necessary.” Antony’s arms gesticulated violently, his eyes flickered around like angry insects.

The Major could see him visualising these things, seeing them all in the warped reality that existed only inside Antony’s mind. He saw the strains of madness that were behind any genius. And he hated himself for admitting that Antony was a genius. He had the power of words the Major didn’t, the terrible yet somehow perfect charisma that made him the terrifying. He knew he had to fight against this, but knew that he was merely tossing a pebble to try to block a gushing torrent.

But he had to try.

“Now see here, Secretary.” he said at last. “I know that you think you’re in charge, but the military isn’t here as some vending machine here for you to pick and choose what horrific things you want done to a little girl. You want a government presence here, and I can give you that. I’ll devote a section of our Research and Development department to liaise with

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Dr James to find out what he needs to make sure his research continues, and possible to assist him to further it to speed up results. She is a little girl, Secretary. He is her father. I am in charge of this military and you can tell me what to do but I am going to do nothing that will harm that child.”

“Well I admire your sentiment.” Said Antony, in a tone that made it clear just how little he actually did. “I really do. Well. I admire the idea of your sentiment. After all the world needs people like you.

Otherwise people like me wouldn’t have people to climb over to reach the top.” He mused, smiling.

“Whatever you may think is the situation, you are wrong. The world is not a nice place where everyone lives happily together. This is not your military. This is the government’s military. It’s not the Doctor’s lab. It’s the governments. I’m in charge of it all.”

He focused directly on the Major’s eyes, in a stare that almost made the older man wince.

“You can either do what I say, or a few days from now you ‘resign’ and are miraculously replaced by someone who will. I can see you looking at me now, thinking I have no compassion, but I do. I could have forced you out already if I didn’t respect you on some level. I could have forced the Doctor to give up his lab, give up his daughter, but I’m giving you both the chance to work with me. To do the right thing and help everyone.” ‘’Do you mind if I smoke?” The Major said, enjoy-

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ing the chance to interrupt. ‘’What?” Antony asked, clearly nonplussed. ‘’I’ll open the window.” He replied casually, knowing hat his action was petty, but feeling smug nevertheless. He didn’t wait for a reply, he slid his finger over the electric button and lit up. he cheerfully blew smoke into the fresh air. ‘’You don’t smoke do you?”

“No.” The Major looked levelly at the disconcerted Secretary. “I’m concerned that you are not taking in any of the human element of this project. Consider the strain it will put on the little girl!”

Antony’s lip wrinkled into a frustrated sneer. “She is not a girl, she is a subject! An experiment. Something to be studied. She stopped being a little girl the moment the aliens got involved. She’s now nothing more than another puzzle that must be solved in order for the county to prevail.”

Antony sat back in the seat again. A vein on his neck was throbbing. He reached up to neaten a strand of hair that had become separated from his slick side-parting. “You know it’s right really, Malcolm. You know that you have no choice anyway.”

“It’s Major, not Malcolm.” The Major responded curtly.

They spent rest of the journey in silence. Only the squeaks of the leather and the whirr of the tarmac beneath the car punctuated the total quiet. Many thoughts and possibilities ran through the Major’s

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mind, but each one lost its energy before it could be vocalised. He could feel Antony’s excitement at the thrill of another power trip reverberating through the linked seats.

Eventually, the car pulled into the Military’s London Headquarters. Without waiting for Antony to bid him farewell, the Major pushed the door open and quickly jumped out. He had not been able to enjoy the one in the car/ It had not settled his nerves.

He sucked deeply on it, revelling in the calm that it spread through his body. He felt his pulse finally slow from the rapid beat it kept up throughout the car journey.

The window slid down. “I’ll be in touch,” The end of Antony’s sentence was cut short as the car pulled away. No respect. The Major sighed deeply. Where had the country had gone so wrong? *

*

*

Dr James entered Charlotte’s room. In amongst the chaotic collage of pictures surrounding her mirror, he focused on the one of Agatha. His wife would have known what was best, what do to. She was always so much more diplomatic than he was. Not that she did not know when to fight. Sometimes it felt as if he never knew when to fight, or who to fight for. Charlotte was convinced that the aliens were good, and should not she know better than anyone else? But

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every day he witnessed how much they hurt her, and he had been forced to take action against them for her safety. On the other hand he had always supported the government, but now who knew exactly what they had planned for her?

He stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him softly.

“Charlotte, we need to talk about something.”

“Of course, dad.” Charlotte turned to face him as he sat down on her bed. “Is it about Malcolm?”

“Malcolm?” Dr James was confused.

“The man who said he worked with you. I liked him. He seemed nice. A little sad, but nice.” Charlotte looked at him searchingly.

“The Major? Yes, it is about him, in a way.”

Charlotte nodded. “I thought so. There were a lot of new people around today, weren’t there?”

The Doctor looked into Charlotte’s eyes. “The Major was brought here by a politician, a newly elected Secretary. This man, Mr McCrea, is now in charge of everything to do with the Aliens. And that includes the responsibility of protecting England from them.”

Charlotte sighed. “But we don’t need protecting from them dad. They’re good, I’ve told you this.”

“I know Charlotte, but they have to entertain the notion, and prepare for the event that the Aliens may change their behaviour.” He looks at Charlotte.

“Unfortunately, the government think you’re as important as I do, but for different reasons. And be-

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cause of this, they want to supervise us and have a say in all the tests that we do.”

He saw the change in Charlotte’s expression, saw her fleeting fear. “They think that I’m a threat?

They think that I’m one of them?”

“No, no. They don’t think you’re a threat, but they believe, as I do, that you may be able to help us understand what they want.” He tried to reassure her, knowing that he was lying, but he wanted so much to protect her.

“They want to change things!” Charlotte was on her feet, her fingers of her right hand tapping against her arm, the nervous impulse she had had ever since she was a child.

“They want the same thing as we do,” he lied, “but they want to get to the answers faster than I can on my own, so Antony is going to be in charge of everything.” Her look cut into him like a knife.

He reached out, taking her hand in his. “I’m sorry there isn’t more I can do. There are people so much more powerful than I am. I can only promise you that nothing will happen that I don’t agree to.”

Running her hand over his fingers, Charlotte looked at her father, sensing his unease. “You can’t pretend that you don’t know that this is wrong dad. Not to me.”

“I know.” He said, hanging his head with a sigh.

“I can only promise that I won’t let anything happen to you.”

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*

*

*

Pete’s car rounded the familiar corner into the carpark of the bunker. As he drove the car into his usual space and cut the engine he noticed something ahead of him that had never been there before. A large yellow sign, marked with a long lightning bolt and the caption “WARNING: Electrified Fence. Do Not Touch.” Pete ran his eyes along the periphery of the car-park. It was lined with a seven foot high fence, topped with a dense coil of barbed-wire. This was a new addition to the rarely visited bunker, and Pete began to worry. Turning around to face the entrance, Pete noticed another new addition, three to be precise. Three large men, complete with camouflage jackets, masks and guns lined the small doorway into the facility. Reaching behind him to the back seat, without taking his eyes off of the menacing guards, Pete retrieved the parcel and card he had laid out on the back seat, his gift for Charlotte.

Walking over to the doorway, the three guards clocked him immediately and all turned to form a neat line across the entrance, guns pointing to the floor. As he reached the door, walking as if to pass straight through the guards. The middle one stepped forward slightly, gripping his gun a little harder.

“Can I help you?” His muffled voice was gruff beneath the mask.

“You can open the door if you want, but I’m used

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to doing it myself so don’t worry...” Pete made to step past them again and the second guard stepped forward.

‘I’m sorry, sir. But I don’t believe you are on our list of authorised personnel.”

“Authorised? I’m Charlotte’s brother for gods...”

Interrupting Pete’s burgeoning rant, the middle guard spoke.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

“No! I’m going to see my sister!” Pete took a step forward, he tried to square his chest and shoulders to match the beastly height of all three guards. He was still nearly a foot shorter.

The last soldier brought his rifle to bear. Upon noticing this, and hearing menacing laboured panting coming from beneath the mask, Pete stepped back.

With his eyes constantly on the guards over his shoulder, Pete made his way back to the car. The confusion was slowly making way for panic. What was going on in there? Was Lottie alright? Why wasn’t he being let in?

Once inside the car Pete scrambled around in the glove compartment for his phone. He dialled Edmund’s number. He would have the answers. The phone remained silent against Pete’s ear, he looked at the screen, it read ‘Emergency Only’. No signal?

There’s always usually signal here? Pete toyed with the idea of leaving and contacting someone, but there

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was no-one to contact, the bunker was kept extremely quiet. He concluded the best thing he could do was just sit it out, someone would have to come out of the building at some point, because that was the only door. *

*

*

A few camera flashes went off. They illuminated the gloom of the empty podium. Antony didn’t approve of bright lighting. It always made him appear greasy, as if he were sweating. That was back when he was a relatively unimportant local MP and the press conference involved the cheap local newspapers. Now the best of the English press was gathered before him, he had the perfect lighting, his suit was smart, his hair looked good. He loved press conferences.

He walked confidently onto the stage, smiling at the cameras and gave a brief wave. Look friendly, but not as if you want to be their friend. He gripped the podium firmly with both hands. His typed speech was not really needed, but his assistants were always looking for ways to make themselves appear useful.

He waited for a few moments, letting the tension build, then began. “I stood before you recently, and made many promises about how I would tackle the threat to our country. I know that many of you probably thought that they were just the hollow promises of another hollow

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politician. But those days are behind us. We are a government of action and I am a man of action.

Already, but a few days into my tenure, I am able to bring the country news of progress. Progress towards learning the truth about the threat. Progress towards freeing ourselves from the tyranny of our invaders. Progress towards victory!�

Antony piped into his head the sound of loud applause. He paused for a few seconds before continuing, “In a small scientific facility, we have discovered a proud Englishman by the name of Dr Edmund James, who has been undertaking pioneering work in human-alien communication. Within this lab there is a subject, which at the moment must remain confidential for reasons of security, which we believe may be the breakthrough. The breakthrough that we have been searching for in order to understand the nature of the threat that we are all facing. To fully realise this ultimate goal, the government is giving Dr James every assistance he requires. We will be applying direct government funding and resources to his lab. It shall be made into a state-of-the-art facility. The kind that we require if we are to finally defeat the enemy. Whilst previously we may have wasted our time and resources on petty wars this government has shown its desire to free ourselves from the shackles of interplanetary oppression, to finally give us back our England. Despite only being in this post a matter of days, I already see the promise, the progress, the

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endeavour our country and its people are showing. I have seen why it is us who will taste sweet victory and it is the aliens that will feel the cold pain of defeat.” Antony paused again for the cheering of his inner monologue to die away.

Meanwhile, back in the lab, Charlotte muted the television, frowning. She looked over at her Dad. “Is that him? He was talking about us.”

“Yes, that’s Antony McCrea.”

“I don’t like him.” Charlotte said flatly.

Edmund took note of Charlotte’s reaction to the politician. “Why do you say that Charlotte?”

She shrugged. “I just don’t. There’s something not right about him.”

“Unfortunately, Charlotte, politicians aren’t meant to be liked, that’s their nature, to be unlikeable. No one likes a politician, but, sadly, we have to choose out of a poor selection, and, I think, he’s one of the best there is. That in itself is a reason not to like him.”

“Well I don’t.” Charlotte retorted, switching the television off.

Back at the press conference, Antony continued.

“I believe that in the very near future, this branch of hope that we have been given in Cambridge will bear the fruit of deliverance. That their secrets shall be learnt. That the peacemongers will finally be hushed, their ideologies of loving cohabitation trampled under the boots of the violent and horrific truth. We shall

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finally realise what must be done, and that the only way to finally be free is to fight fire with fire and send those aliens back to whatever hellhole of the universe they have come from.� Antony brought his fist down with an emphatic full top upon his final word. The Doctor switched the television off.

Chapter 3

The press conference did not go unnoticed. Even if countries had to be seen to disregard one another, it would not stop them spending their espionage budget. Every country was telling their own people that they were winning the race for first contact, whilst privately their governments were gnashing their teeth. All their hard work would be useless if England managed to cement a connection with the inter-planetary visitors before they did. They watched and waited, while many took drastic measures to increase the progress of their own alien contact programs. France put their entire benefit budget into alien research and development, while South Africa prepared to launch a probe at the ship that hovered over Johannesburg.

In England, people’s opinion was polarised. Many were swept up in the wave of jingoistic enthusiasm that Antony McCrea generated. Regardless of the outcome, first contact would be made by the English. If the aliens remained above the island nation then understandings could be made,

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relationships fostered. If they left, it was England who had cleared the perilous sky.

Others were more cautious, however, they did not want to contact the aliens. They had either adapted well to life underneath the alien ships or were fearful of alien intervention in the world, afraid of the unknown. Many religious believers prophesied that it was an omen. Tensions grew among friends and families, people constantly changing their stances as they became of aware of more information. *

*

*

Turning off the television in the lounge, Marie saw a look of disappointment on Charlotte’s face. “Come on you! It’s bedtime.” She said warmly.

“But can’t I just?” Charlotte started to ask, before Marie interrupted her.

“No!” Marie laughed. It was so good to see Charlotte acting like a kid her own age, but that did not mean she should be spoiled. “Off to bed with you!”

“I’ll come with you, just to see her into bed, if you don’t mind.” Sitting at the other end of the sofa, Marie had almost forgotten that the Doctor was in there with them. It seemed unusual.

“No, not at all.” She said, trying not to sound as surprised as she felt.

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Walking along the corridor, Charlotte’s steps slowed to a snail’s pace.

“If you think walking slowly will make me change my mind you’ve got another thing coming!” Marie said, tapping Charlotte on the shoulder to speed her up.

After Charlotte had brushed her teeth and changed into her pyjamas, they headed for the bedroom. Pulling off the cushions and the duvet, Marie let Charlotte lie down in the centre of the mattress, before reaching for the straps.

“How tired are you tonight Lottie?” She asked, looping two straps around each of Charlotte’s arms.

Thinking, Charlotte replied, “Quite tired, but I think I’ll sleep at level two, so you’d better pull them pretty tight.”

Adjusting them gently, Marie asked, “How’s that?”

Charlotte tugged her arms about, they barely moved.

“That’s pretty good.”

“Shall I put it any tighter?” Marie moved to place a strap over her waist.

“No, that should be fine.”

A cough in the corner reminded Marie that the Doctor was still with them. “Oh Doctor! I’d almost forgotten you were here.” She said, turning to face him. She could see how tired he was, and wanted to relieve him. “You can go if you want, I’ve got everything under control here.”

The Doctor shifted uneasily. “I’ll just make sure

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the sensors are on correctly.”

Marie frowned. “I put her to bed every night, Edmund. I know how to put the sensors on. Please, I can do this on my own.”

He avoided her gaze. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that Marie.”

Uncertain, Marie finished fastening Charlotte to the bed, before quickly applying the sensors to her forehead and pulse points. Covering Charlotte, who was already drifting off to sleep under the reassuring restraint of the straps, with her duvet, Marie kissed her forehead and headed out of the room, where she was shortly joined by Dr James.

“What was all that about?” Marie asked.

Dr James closed the door behind him.

“The Minister has imposed new restrictions on oneon-one access to Charlotte. I’m no longer allowed to leave you alone with her.”

“Well, why for heaven’s sake?” She snapped back at him.

“You’re French, and our government...Well you know how it feels about foreigners.” He replied, looking uncomfortably at the floor.

Marie felt as if she had been slapped across the face. “How can you say that, Edmund? I’ve been working here for years.”

“I’m sorry Marie, this has all spiralled out of control, and it’s no longer in my hands.” He, and walked with Marie back to the laboratory.

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*

*

*

The Major had tried to make his office in the bunker homely, but something was not quite right. He had hung some paintings up when he moved in, even scattered some paper around the desk so that it had the feeling of a controlled mess that he preferred. It did not help that he had little to do.

Yes, he had wanted these last few years to be peaceful, but not downright boring. He was annoyed that the bottle of Talisker whiskey delivered yet. He was glad, therefore, when there was a quiet knock on the door. It was slightly ajar, and the knock had opened it slightly. The Major ushered his guest inside with a wave of his hand, his head still bowed as he examined some papers on his desk. He finally looked up to see the Doctor standing meekly in the doorway. He was surprised to see him, but smiled, quickly turning off his computer screen and covering the papers on his desk. “Major, can I trouble you for a moment?�

The Major looked at the Doctor, unable to read his face. He began wondering what he was about to be asked. He knew that the Doctor had been none too pleased with his sudden, and uninvited, arrival.

Dr James closed the door behind him. The Major turned and Dr James sat down in a vacant chair.

There was an awkward pause. The Major spoke to

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relieve the tension. “You can call me Malcolm.”

The Doctor nodded, but his face remained grim. “I wanted to ask you something, I feel that I can trust you, and that we share similar interests. I believe that you care about my daughter’s wellbeing.”

Malcolm nodded, and waited for Dr James to continue.

“I’m concerned that the restrictions being imposed upon Marie are going to be detrimental to Charlotte’s progress, and recovery during these slightly...” He paused significantly, “...questionable, new tests.” He adjusted himself in his seat, “I just think I need to emphasise that she is no threat, or danger, to any aspect of this project. I want to ask you to appeal to Mr McCrea to let her continue her work here.”

The Major hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“I’m afraid that the Secretary insists on having her removed. She is a potential threat, unfortunately, more so because she is French.”

Dr James had expected as much, but he felt the need to continue. “Charlotte needs her, Malcolm.

She’s the only female role model she has in her life, and she needs that.”

Watching the Dr James, speak of his daughter’s safety in this way made the Major think of his wife Karen and his daughter, Rosie. He had lost them years ago, prior to the aliens arrival, in a car accident.

They had been on their way to pick him up after a drinking session with colleagues that had continued

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late, and he could not drive himself home. They were the two most beautiful girls he had ever set his eyes upon. He always thought about the pair of them on that journey, playing eye-spy and chatting. He would never forgive himself for making them come and pick him up. He thought of Charlotte navigating the maze. It was not a fun game for her, it was work. He knew that Dr James was right, she needed Marie. He nodded. “I understand. This must be very difficult for you. You can inform Marie that she can carry on with her duties, and tell her from me that she is doing a good job. I will deal with the Minister.”

“Thank you, Malcolm.” Dr James stood up, and moved towards the door. Just before turning the doorknob he paused, and turned to face the Major, “Do you know what Antony wants from my daughter?”

The Major paused, knowing that he was no longer allowed to disclose sensitive information to Dr James.

“I have to make sure that the experiments continue for now Doctor. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more at this stage.”

“Have you got children, Malcolm?”

The Major looked up, surprised by Dr James’ perfectly legitimate question. It was a natural thing to ask; the Major would have tried the same approach himself. He had not been asked about his private life in years, he got ask about work and work alone. His

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mouth went dry.

“Yes, I had a daughter, around Charlotte’s age.”

As he swallowed he felt his throat crack.

“I’m sure that you do everything within your power to protect her at all times, don’t you?” Dr James had missed the Major’s use of past tense.

The Major nodded.

“If this was happening to your daughter, what would you do?”

“I would never have put my daughter in danger Dr James... I never meant to put her in danger.”

He would never have considered putting his daughter and wife in danger. They had driven that route hundreds of times, why would that night be any different? Why would they not be able to finish their game of eye-spy that night? Why wouldn’t they have a chance for Rosie to add up the scores? It was his fault.

“I’m sorry Dr James.” The Major rarely said sorry, “I’ll do my best to keep Marie with Charlotte.”

“Thank you, Malcolm.” The Doctor closed the door behind him, making his way back to the laboratory.

The Major reached for his phone. He needed to at least attempt to ask Antony to reconsider. His hand paused over the handset and then pulled back.

He could not face a conversation with Antony right now. Anyway, maybe Antony didn’t need to be kept completely in the loop. It was the Major’s military

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that was running the place. While Antony was not here, he called the shots. He stood up and headed out of his office. He would sort the Marie situation himself. And he would find out where the hell his whiskey had got to. *

*

*

Having been informed that a phone call from Antony was imminent, two guards arrived to summon the Major. They found him wandering around the lab, occasionally stopping to look through the window to Charlotte’s room. The guards thought it was safe to approach him, he did not seem busy with anything important. They had orders to escort him to his office. The Major stared at them, contemplating making their task as awkward as possible, but then silently complied, walking out of the lab with one guard on either side, a couple of steps behind him.

They reached his office and stood motionless just inside the door, awaiting instructions.

“I don’t recognise either of you. Which academy did you come from?” He had known everybody in his own academies by name and number, their strengths, their weaknesses. Things had changed. This guy had nothing, no personality. How symptomatic of the changing face of the modern military. ‘’Academy 625 Major.” The guard didn’t even

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make eye contact. ‘’6.25 you mean.” The Major corrected him. ‘’My apologies Sir.” ‘’Never mind, keep up the good work.” Retirement was getting more attractive by the day. He sat down as the red phone began to ring. He looked at the guards. “Do you mind?”

One guard shook his head. ‘’We, under no circumstances, are to leave this room.”

The Major shrugged. What an unnecessary waste of resources. He picked up the phone. ‘’Major Malcolm Roth speaking” ‘’Malcolm, it’s Antony, I assume the situation with the Frenchy has been resolved?” Malcolm had been waiting for this call. The mandates never took long to pass down through the grapevine, and then those checking up on the mandates never took long to follow up. ‘’Do you think that this is the best idea Secretary?

Marie has never caused any problems, she’s good for the girl, and you know she’s more than qualified to be there.” The Major replied, knowing the response his more than reasonable argument was likely to get.

He wasn’t disappointed. ‘’I’m afraid this is non negotiable. I simply can’t have the Frenchy around the subject - I’ve given concessions enough in not having her deported. I’ve even let her stay on the staff for goodness sake! What more do you want?” ‘’Of course Secretary.” The Major replied flatly.

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“I’ll see it is done.”

“I’m glad you agree. It wouldn’t be right to have a bloody frog on my project, on our country’s project.”

The Major bit his tongue. “I should get on Secretary. I’m very busy here.” He hung up the phone.

The guards were obviously not there for his protection. They were there to carry out whatever orders were expected to be relayed down the phone. Of course Antony wouldn’t rely on just the phone call and trust the Major to do as he was told.

The Major looked up at the guards standing there, not quite to attention. Their shoulders slumped slightly, their feet not parallel. The sloppiness of youth. He did not relay the message to the guard. Without Antony actually there, it was he who had the power for once.

The guards stood waiting. “Major?”

The Major stood up, again looking him square in the face, unflinching. ‘’Was there anything we needed to do Major?” ‘’No. Your current performance is more than adequate.” He responded, pouring himself a whisky. *

*

*

Pete had been in the Cafe for an hour. Marie was not late, he was just very early. He had not been able to visit Charlotte for a while now, and this was the

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first contact he had managed to organise which didn’t involve screaming maniacally through the doorway whilst being manhandled by the guards. When Marie finally arrived she wore a fleeting smile. She elegantly sat down opposite him at the table. Pete had always noticed how impossibly upright Marie was. Perfect posture - he had never once seen her head loll from the pedestal of her neck. She was supremely graceful, and Pete hated to admit it, but he was somewhat intimidated by her. Though he’d never let her know that.

“Have you been waiting long?” Her soft French accent was only noticeable when she wasn’t talking science, and Pete realised he had never heard her talk about anything else before.

“No, not at all, just got here myself actually.” He smiled awkwardly at her.

She looked over to the waitress, who immediately made her way over to the table. “Just an espresso please.” The rather dumpy waitress nodded twice and bumbled away, almost blushing.

Pete was glad it wasn’t just him that she had that affect on. But this wasn’t what he was here for. His thoughts switched from Marie straight over to Charlotte.

“How is she?” He blurted the words out, guilty for having left it so long.

“She is fine...at the moment.” Marie spoke quietly, lacking in her usual confidence.

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“Fine? She’s fine?” Pete replied, incredulous. “So the armed guards, the electric fence, the barbed bloody wire - they’re all fine by her, are they?” Pete had to stop himself from raising his voice.

Marie remained calm. “Yes Peter, she is fine. I have said once already, no? Now these changes you see are the only ones. Inside the laboratory Lottie is treated exactly the same. Your step-father would not allow any change in her condition, you know this.”

Pete could not completely believe her. Something had to be going on for them to need to employ guards.

If they were only there to keep him out, he felt it was a little excessive. “So you can say that Charlotte is exactly the same as before and totally, perfectly, completely fine?”

“She misses you, obviously, but Lottie is holding up well Peter, I promise.” Marie’s tone was genuine, though Pete was not entirely appeased.

“I miss her Marie, I worry all of the time. I know nothing about what’s going on, and I don’t know why I can’t be let in. You must understand how difficult this is for me?” Pete leaned forward onto the table as he spoke, appealing to Marie, desperate for her to understand how hard it was for him being shut out like he was. “What do you know about the Major, and this Antony bloke? Are they there all the time? Have they met Charlotte?” He couldn’t stop speaking, he’d been starved of information for far too long.

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“I know you worry Peter, we all worry for her. You, I... Dr. James. And I promise you, if I find out anything, or see anything that I feel in any way compromises Lottie’s safety or happiness, I’ll tell you immediately. You have been denied entry, I do not know why, but it does mean that you are going to have to trust me.” She spoke with control, each word perfectly measured. As she had said the word ‘trust’ she leaned forward ever so slightly on the table, searching deep into his eyes.

“I trust you.” He meant it. As Marie got up to leave, Pete remembered suddenly the main reason for this meeting. On the table in front of him stood the lion that he had never been able to deliver to Charlotte. He picked it up and handed it to Marie.

“Could you pass this on to Charlotte for me?”

“Of course. And here was me thinking it was some kind of mascot you needed when you talked to women.” With a playful smile curled on her lips, Marie opened the door and left the cafe. *

*

*

Throughout his life, Noah Barley was unable to commit to a career.

Whenever a profession in Holy Office arose, his interviewers had been unwilling to be enlightened by his higher calling. They were wishy washy mod-

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ernists, with vague ideas and no sense of the true power of the Lord.

For eight years now he had lived on his ship, ‘Mary’, docking it around France wherever he felt he could without getting caught, as he could not afford to pay for a permanent spot. Anything Noah had ever owned of value had been auctioned off to pay for his living expenses. It was a humble life, and a life which certainly could not afford the boat.

However, with France redirecting the majority of the budget for benefits towards research into the aliens presence, Noah had to find a way to cheat the system. With his deluded and hypocritical nature, he had no qualms over claiming a flat from the council, in a rough estate in Biarritz. It was a necessity. Since the benefits were reduced merely for housing, rather than actual living costs, he felt that as long as he devoted his time to God’s work, then any minor abuse of the economy was a necessary evil. As he lived on a boat, and needed crew whenever he set sail further than a few miles down the coastline, he found his own way of sorting matters out. He rented his stategiven flat out to a group of six illegal immigrants.

Having no idea where they came from, Noah asked no questions, and received no answers, only minimal rent to pay for the ship’s expenses, and six hands to help Noah sail his ship.

He had trained them all himself, and excused his illegal behaviour with the confidence that he had made

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working men out of what he perceived as being idle sinners. It was these men who received a phone call from their captain, informing them that they should meet him on the dock. Although they were restless at the thought of such a long journey to Gabon, West Africa, four of them admitted that they had always wanted to travel, and the other two knew where their loyalties lied. *

*

*

Paper bag clutched in one hand, and her pass held firmly in the other, Marie headed with determination towards Charlotte’s room. As she stepped briskly down the corridors, she felt the eyes of the guards following her. ‘I’m doing nothing wrong, she told herself, glaring back at them’.

Approaching the door, she knocked three times.

These new government scientists may think it was alright to just walk in on Charlotte, or worse, to just watch her through the glass at all times, but Marie believed the child deserved some privacy.

The door opened, and Marie was greeted by Charlotte’s smiling face.

“Hello Lottie, your brother gave me something for you.”

“You saw Pete?” Her face lit up as she let Marie into her room. “What did he say? Is he OK?”

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“He’s fine.” Marie moved to sit by Lottie’s desk.

“He misses you terribly.”

“I bet.” Lottie’s face was full of concern. “He doesn’t know how to look after himself.”

Marie smiled. “I got that impression.”

They moved to sit down on Charlotte’s bed. In the light from her beside table, Marie was surprised to see how tired she looked.

“Have you been sleeping properly?”

Charlotte shook her head, her hand nervously tapping at her arm. “Not really. Not since the new scientists came.” She lowered her voice. “I don’t like them. I don’t like them being here.”

“I know. None of us do.” Marie patted Charlotte on the shoulder, and was surprised when she winced visibly. “What’s wrong?”

“My shoulder hurts. Sorry, it’s not you.”

“Can I see?”

Charlotte nodded, pulling her t-shirt to reveal a deep black bruise upon her shoulder.

“How on earth did you get that?” Marie gasped.

“I woke up with it this morning.” Charlotte whispered.

Marie attempted to hide the level of her concern.

“That’s odd. If it happens again let me know, but try not to worry OK?” She grabbed the bag. “How about we take a look at what Pete got you?”

Charlotte nodded, glancing warily at the CCTV camera in the corner of her room. She forced a smile.

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“Sure. Great.”

Taking the bag, Charlotte pulled out the Lion cub, the sight of which brought tears to her eyes.

“It’s lovely.” She stroked its furry paws. “It’s so soft!”

“I’ll leave you to play with your new friend.” Said Marie, getting up to leave.

“Marie?”

“Yes?” “Thank you.”

As Marie walked away she vowed that she would uncover what was happening to Charlotte. *

*

*

Having spent most of her day in the bunker hard at work, Marie felt sluggish and drowsy. A feeling only heightened by a lack of natural light. Her thoughts drifted rapidly and incoherently from one blurred vision to another with the which suggested a night of insomnia was imminent. Her mind was filled with busy thoughts and ill feelings caused by a growing concern over Charlotte’s.

Leaning upon the bathroom sink, she looked into the mirror in a silent attempt too reassure herself that she was doing the right thing by Charlotte. She could not help but feel she should be doing more to protect her and maintain some sort of normality for

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her in this place that they had both grown to call home.

She still couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Certainly, things were changing around the lab - the new scientists were around more and more. Their coldness towards Charlotte was worrying, as were the unexplained deliveries of medical packages. Even though she had highest clearance on the Major’s orders, Marie was beginning to feel shut out of conversations which usually required her input.

And those bruises, she couldn’t forget those bruises.

She was exhausted, having to fight to stay involved around the lab was making her paranoid and irrational. Attempting to rationalise things Marie decided to check on Charlotte before going into bed herself. It had been another long day and sleep was at least well worth a try. Sometimes she really did have to force herself to carry on with all of this.

Marie made her way across the short corridor to Charlotte’s bedroom, hoping that the sight of her silently asleep would ease her mind a little. Putting her slender hand on the door, she hesitated for a moment. Pushing her ear against the door her thoughts were confirmed. She could hear voices coming from inside the room. Shocked, she flung the door open only to be greeted by stern uncompromising glares from a group of scientists who Marie barely recognised. With them, standing at the foot of Charlotte’s bed was Dr James. His eyes avoided all contact with

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Marie’s, his gaze met the floor in an ashamed avoidance.

“What the hell is going on here?” She exclaimed, unable to bring herself to look at Charlotte. From the corner of her eye she could see that she was connected to a drip containing a blue-coloured fluid, and she could hear the monitor going crazy as it recorded Charlotte’s impulse reactions to whatever they were injecting her with.

Dr James spoke first. “Calm down Marie, she is perfectly safe.”

Mais Doctor! replied Marie, her native language intruding as she lost control of her impatient tongue.

“This is crazy, she is a child! She should be allowed to at least sleep peacefully. You know as well as I the long-term damage that can be done to a child of this age with sleep manipulation.”

Charlotte’s monitor began to screech erratically, reaching a level which it was unable to record. One of the scientist’s ran over to the machine, trying to collect the paper which was streaming out all over the floor. Suddenly, Charlotte began to convulse and flail about in her bed smacking her arms against the wall and bed frame in a frenzy.

“Oh my God, help her!” Marie screamed at the scientists, who stood making notes. She and Dr James ran to Charlotte’s side, attempting to restrain her and stop her hurting herself. “Doctor you must stop this right now.”

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“Dr James, it is time to take the blood sample,� one of the scientists barked coldly.

Marie was stunned, how could the voice of any human being contain such cold, scientific, unconcern for a child who had just visibly hurt herself? At this, the Doctor - not the father - in James strode forwards, producing a syringe.

When the Doctor tapped the metal nib and penetrated Charlotte’s skin a small dot of blood appeared.

Marie was used to this procedure, but never in such unnatural circumstances. Once the Doctor had finished, his black-topped vacuum tube was filled with blood. Half-satisfied, Dr James looked to Marie, who had grown pale. She caught his eye and communicated a look of utter disappointment and disdain, before turning on her heels and leaving the room as quickly as she had come. He followed her down the corridor.

Marie had seen enough. How could Dr James allow the government to walk all over his work? His years of work. After all, the laboratory was entirely private, surely they had no right to do this? She had come to England for the opportunities to research at the revered institution of Cambridge university. France was good, but nothing compared to Cambridge.

Until now she had always respected Dr James, even if she did not always get along with him. He was famous. Famous for his research, for his intricate methods, and most of all, for his ethics. She had been

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shocked when she discovered he was testing on his own daughter, but when he explained the methods, and the reasons, she knew it made sense. He cared so much for his daughter, and if there was anyone she knew of that could maybe find an answer, a cure for her condition, then it was him.

But this? This was not the Dr James she knew.

The man she knew would fight for what he believed in. Particularly in science. He was confident in his work. She stormed into his office. He followed.

Here in this room, his achievements were most evident. Every milestone of his career was marked by certificates, awards or photographs. She settled on a photo of Agatha, one of the few photographs of Pete and Charlotte’s mother.

The Doctor entered, closing the door behind them.

Marie was looking at the photograph of his wife.

Dr James fixated upon her eyes. Charlotte’s were the exact likeness of them. So many aspects of Agatha were reflected through Charlotte. Perhaps it was why she was so precious to him. He had already lost Agatha, he could not bear to lose the one living reminder of her. Pete had inherited Agatha’s ability to argue, and knew it. He often found himself in arguments with Pete that were strangely familiar.

The moments of silence lengthened, eventually he decided to speak. “Say what you have to say Marie.”

“I must protest, about all of this.” She replied, and he noticed that her voice was shaking.

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Edmund sighed, sitting himself behind his desk.

He gestured to a chair. “Please sit down, Marie.”

She shook her head, barely looking at him. “I’d prefer to stand, Doctor.”

“Very well,” He said, pausing to gather his thoughts.

He poured himself a glass of port from the decanter on his desk. He took a slow, ponderous sip. “It’s out of my hands Marie. There’s nothing more I can do.”

Marie spat her protest straight back at him. “How can you say that? She is your daughter!”

He shrugged. “If I refused to take part, they’d make us both leave, Marie. And then where would Charlotte be? Do you think they’d stop testing on her just because we weren’t there?”

“Merde.” Marie muttered, sitting down.

“What can we do?” Marie pleaded.

He sighed. “Nothing. Antony is in charge now.

It’s his lab, his project. All we can do is endure it, stay with Charlotte, and hope that these aliens leave of their own accord. I fear that no answers shall come from this testing, not for some time.” He stood up and approached Marie. “Until then, we must help each other, and you must trust me.”

Marie got to her feet. “Does the Major know of this?”

“Not that I know of. Antony would have no need to consult the Major.”

“He must have a suspicion? At the very least he should know. He may be able to help us!”

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He hesitated. “I cannot risk losing my place here, for Charlotte’s sake.” He looked into Marie’s eyes.

“Whatever you do, you’ll have to be doing it on your own.”

Marie nodded, leaving the Doctor as he poured a second glass of port.

Whilst attending to her usual duties and trying to avoid the unethical new ones, which the new scientists felt they had the right to ask her to do, Marie’s mind was weighted with worries of Lottie’s safety.

Who were these people and who the hell did they think they were, since the take over not one of them had referred to Charlotte by her name, it was “The subject” everyone called her the subject. Antony was the worst, the man probably had less human compassion that the aliens he hated so much. Never before had Marie worked with such an unprofessional group of people, she took science very seriously it was her passion after all and had been since the age of seven but with all those years of researching, learning and developing her craft she had also learned that one must respect and nurture every single thing studied, the most important thing Marie had ever learned was to respect life.

Since the aliens arrived science was becoming a very profitable career move, teenagers were being ushered into the universities to study the subject with a view to “solving the problem of the alien invasion” and Antony and his idealistic public rants

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weren’t helping to dilute the problem either. The result Marie thought was too many scientists with a lack of passion, and a complete dismissal of compassion to treat science with the respect it deserved.

And now these people were in her lab and forcing their deluded unethical ideals down her and Dr James throats. She hated to see such a talented and worldly scientist as Dr James being compromised in such a way, she understood the pressure he was under but sympathy was not her forte’ Marie had a tough life she had missed out on the childhood that most kids enjoyed. Since she’d been old enough to care for her own little sister, she had done. Her parents had concentrated all their energy on the bitter divorce which they had been locked in for years. Perhaps this is why she felt so protective of Lottie.

Things were getting out of hand, seriously out of hand. Charlotte’s medication had gone from being a few pills and supplements to injections, pills and various formulas that hadn’t even been safety approved yet.

Every day the new scientists would bring trays of different medication into the lab and Marie was only allowed limited access too it. Charlotte’s reaction to the drugs was becoming more and more extreme, Marie couldn’t bare seeing Charlotte convulse in her sleep like that. Slowly Dr James was becoming a broken man, slowly defeated by the conflict surrounding him. Marie had always known of the Doctor’s pen-

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chant for a little sherry every now and then, but she was sure he was over indulging from time to time.

There was only one thing Marie could do, and there was only one person who she could ask to help her.

This was probably the biggest risk Marie had ever even considered taking, if this didn’t work out she could be fired and then she would be powerless to do anything to help Charlotte. The risk was worth it, it was the only way Charlotte would be safe, they had to escape she would have to ask the Major for help.

Knowing that Major would be briefing the ranks on the grounds above the bunker in the morning Marie made an excuse to go up and talk to him, its wasn’t easy to get around the lab anymore everyone has to sign in and out giving reasons each time but she made up a story about a safety issue, some anonymous phone call she was concerned about. She unbuttoned the top button of her white shirt and grabbed a call sheet with a random circled date and time. She made her way above ground, going over different explanations in her head muttering to herself nervously before noticing a guard looking at her suspiciously in the lift she travelled in to the top floor.

“Equations” she mutters with a smile. The guard grunts, not missing an opportunity to run his sleazy eyes over her petite figure, focusing on her breasts.

Good these meat heads are so easy to fool she thought to herself.

The lift door swings open revealing the rainy crisp

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conditions usual to a British autumn, her hair is blown into her eyes as she tries to distinguish The Major amongst the many guards positioned around the grounds, no need, she spots a tall figure walking towards her. The Major’s authority is clear in his stride his black skin shines as the rain runs down his face, if it irritates him he doesn’t acknowledge it he just lets it batter against his skin defiantly. The Major seemed like an intimidating man in his size and position, but he had a compassion and warmth to him just beneath the surface, visible to those who took the time to look. He had an obvious affection for Charlotte, Marie had heard some of the guards talking once about how he had lost his wife and child in accident, tragic she thought. Perhaps like her he felt the need to protect Charlotte and valued her innocence in a way that only a person who has experienced some kind of loss could. Marie felt confident she was doing the right thing.

“Marie, what’s the problem?” The Major looked on, slightly confused by the unusual visitation he had never dealt with the scientists directly, certainly never had any of them came above ground to speak to him. “ Well Major sir, i received an unusual phone call today i was hoping we might be able to talk some where a little more private?” “ I see, Marie, i don’t really have time now.” The Major was looking around, he wanted to get out of

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the rain, it had been a difficult day, Antony was getting on his nerves.

“Oh no sir it really is quite important, just five minutes of your time please” The Major, looked at Marie’ unsure what to make of her. “ right okay five minutes” he said ushering her into a small corner of the outside building where they will not be heard and where shielded form the elements, “ what’s going on Marie?” He could tell that Marie was not the type of women to bring something unimportant to his attention, she had always seemed entirely professional, something that he admire greatly form a distance. ‘’Major this is very serious and I don’t have much time to explain, you will have to trust what i say is the truth and that i say this for Charlotte’s safety.”

Marie’s directness refreshed and alerted The Major.

“Charlotte’s safety? is Charlotte in danger?” “ Yes” Marie showed Major the call sheet, telling him to turn it over. This is a graph showing how they plan to increase her medication and the experiments, they are totally invasive and I’m not even sure she can survive the medication.

Major places his hands forcefully on Marie’s shoulders “Marie you understand how important this is, if you have miss understood or if you are lying to me...”

“No major i am not I need your help, Charlotte needs your help. We have to get her out of here”.

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“Slow down Marie do you have any idea what you are suggesting!” “ I know exactly what i am suggesting Major, i only hope we have enough time to do something about it.” The Major looked at Marie square in the eye, they shared a moment an exchange of trust in the desperate attempt to secure Charlotte’s safety. “ Look you can trust me, I will get to the bottom of this and if need be I will see to it that you have what you need.” He liked Marie form then on, she was direct, caring, a special young woman. In a strange way it reminded him of his own mother, how she must have been in her twenties, no nonsense.

“Major you understand that i too am risking my position here, there really is no other way” She said in an attempt to reassure him of their shared position. “ I understand Marie, keep your eyes open, I will create an opportunity for you but you will have to move quickly this can only be done once. “ Oui Major, you are a good man, thank you”.

Marie disappeared back into the cold wind and rain, The Major realised that his predictions about Antony, his regime and his plans were coming true, Antony had lived up to his word. *

*

*

Pacing his office floor, the Major felt his hands

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grow damp with sweat. The evidence had confirmed Marie’s suspicions, and now he knew what he had to do. He sat down, his heart racing. He needed to calm himself. Automatically he got out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, and went through his desk. He pulled out endless piles of old documents, dossiers. A life’s work. One by one he tossed them to the floor.

Frustrated at not finding what he was looking for, he rolled his chair towards an old filing cabinet. He had always been told to be more organised, take advantage of the technology available to him, documents on hard drives, an electronic locker system next door, but he never listened. He flicked through the files one by one, his fingers moving with lightning speed. He stopped.

This was it. He pulled out a large envelope and looked in it. This was definitely it. He removed the spare keycard, slipping it into his pocket. If he happened to park it outside the lab, it would be all too easy for Charlotte’s brother to pick up. Especially if he knew where to find the spare key. He questioned Pete’s ability to handle such a powerful vehicle, considering it wasn’t automatic. He knew that there were few other options. It would have to do.

Now he just needed to ensure that Pete would be ready. *

*

*

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“These guards are like rats. You’re only ever three feet from one.” Pete muttered under his breath, watching as one of them paced over in his general direction, continuing his repetitive patrol. Pete had taken to sitting outside of the bunker, on a lump of grass just beyond the fence, watching the guards and the doors. The hours went by slowly, so to pass the time, Pete had taken to mocking the mindless guards.

“Whoa guys, what was that?” Pete shouted, pointing over to the doorway where the guards were standing, jumping to his feet. “Oh my God guys I think someone’s trying to break into the bunker!” He yelled even louder. The three guards standing around the only, small doorway into the bunker suddenly snapped to life. Paying attention, they swiftly raised their guns and started looking furtively around, prepared for any immediate threat. Laughing, Pete sat back down, “Wow, you guys certainly didn’t get employed for your brains!” That was fourth time he’s done that joke. It had got them every time.

Having sat for over three hours and seeing nothing of importance, Pete was nearly ready to give up his vigil for the day. As he contemplated the cold take away pizza he had left over from last night’s meal, he felt a buzzing in his jean-pocket. A sharp, loud ringing followed and Pete realised that it was his phone.

The number was ‘unknown’ but Pete clicked the ‘Accept’ button anyway.

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The voice on the other end spoke in a whisper, disguising the voice.

“Mr Campbell, I understand that you are still maintaining your vigil outside the lab.” The voice spoke with urgency and Pete stood up, becoming energetic with anticipation.

“Who is this?” Pete looked towards the guards.

One had began pointedly sauntering towards him as he spoke. Covering the mobile’s microphone, Pete shouted over to him “I wouldn’t leave your post if i were you, I’ve heard Antony wants to bring back capital punishment and he’s been looking for some volunteers.”

He smiled to himself, and shifted his attention back to the phone call “Sorry about that...”

“You are outside the lab, yes?”

“Yes. Now tell me who you...” The voice interrupted him, obviously he wanted to remain anonymous.

“We must be quick, this is the only time we will talk. In approximately two hours time, the person you are waiting for will exit through the door you are looking at now.”

“Exiting? Do you mean escaping?” Pete could barely stop himself from shouting.

“They will need you. They will need to get away from this place as quickly as is humanly possible. Do you understand?”

“How can I do that?”

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“Can you tell me that you understand me and that you will use my information wisely?”

“I...I think so yes. I mean I’m a little confused... I want to know...” The voice cut him off again. ‘’In the car park there is a standard military jeep.

The keycard is stuck inside the wheel arch.” ‘’ Wait! Are you..?” The line went dead. *

*

*

Charlotte sat watching a film contentedly in the lab’s lounge, as Marie read comfortably on the sofa beside her. When a giggle escaped Charlotte’s lips, Marie looked up from her book, and smiled. Sometimes she would catch herself wishing that such moments would never end, that Charlotte could always be Lottie, and have fun. She sighed.

It was peaceful there, just the two of them. If anything, it was too peaceful. Looking up, she realised that she could not see any guards, when normally they would be standing outside the door, or worse, looking straight in. It surprised her. She decided to investigate. She put down her book on the space next to her, not even turning the fold of the page to keep her place. Rising quickly, she popped her head out of the door, and looked into the corridor.

Silence. There were no guards in sight.

Could this be the Major giving them a chance to

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escape? Marie’s heart began to race she realised that - even if this was an effort on the Major’s part - she would not get far without having a key to the stairs.

Venturing out into the hall, Marie looked around, unsure what to expect. There! There was the key, lying on the table directly opposite. Catching her breath, she tried to stay calm. She might be wrong, but it was worth the risk. Working on instinct, she grabbed it and ran into the lounge, turning off the television at a part which made Charlotte squeal with disappointment.

“But that’s one of the best bits!” She began, but Marie pulled her to her feet.

“Charlotte we have to go. Now’s our chance.”

Charlotte didn’t argue. She could tell by the change in Marie that this was no time for questions. They headed for the door, and from there to the stairs.

As Marie began frantically unlocking the door to the stairs, Charlotte realised that she was missing something important. “Wait!” she cried, sprinting down the corridor.

Grabbing her lion from her room, she ran back to Marie.

“Let’s go.” She said, grinning.

As they ran up the stairs Charlotte began to feel lightheaded. “Marie, this doesn’t feel right.” Her footsteps faltered.

“It’s just the altitude.” Marie replied. “I get it too when I leave here. Please Charlotte we have to go.”

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They continued running, mounting the stairs in their hundreds. As she neared the surface, Charlotte felt the change within her, unaware of what it meant.

Her stomach lurched sickeningly, and she stopped.

“Stop!” Marie heard the anguish in her voice, and stopped.

“Are you alright?” she asked, feeling Charlotte’s brow. She was sweating. Marie looked into her pale face.

“This doesn’t feel right Marie. I think it’s them.”

Was this a mistake? Marie had heard about how ill Charlotte had been on the surface, but she had never actually seen the effects. “What is it?”

Charlotte shook her head, “It’s like I’m falling...and flying at the same time. I’m so dizzy.”

“Do you want to go back?” Marie asked, desperately hoping that their planning hadn’t been in vain.

“We’ve got this far.” Charlotte said, beginning to mount the stairs again. “I can’t go back now.”

Reaching the top of the stairs, Marie peered through the wired glass at the top of the door. “There are so many guards out there, but I think we should be able to sneak past them.”

“Alright.” Charlotte nodded, and Marie tried the door.

“Merde! It’s locked. We’re trapped.”

Charlotte frowned. “You say there are guards?”

Marie nodded. “Yes, they have guns.”

“Sounds pretty scary.”

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“Don’t be frightened, mon petit-chou, everything will be alright.” Marie reached for Charlotte’s hand.

Charlotte looked at her, strangely self-assured. “But I’m frightened, and that’s exactly what we need.”

Gripping tightly on Marie’s hand, Charlotte took a step back from the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

She ran at the door, which shattered outwards in front of her.

Hand in hand, Marie and Charlotte sprinted out through the hole.

“The subject has escaped!” Came the cry from one of the guards, covered in debris from the blast.

“Open fire!”

Marie could hear what sounded like bullets being spat towards them, tearing into the grass and dirt, spearing the concrete and tarmac. As Marie ran, she realised the bullets were in fact small white tipped darts slicing through the air. They were shooting tranquillisers at them.

Marie was terrified. “Charlotte, we have to go back inside! They’re going to shoot us!” She tried to pull Charlotte back towards the bunker, but Charlotte resisted. Unnaturally immobile, Charlotte’s eyes were fixed.

“No! We have to find Pete! He should be here!”

She shouted above the noise of bullets and panic, scanning around for any sign of her brother. But she was dazzled by the lights that shone down on them,

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and couldn’t see anything.

“They’re going to hit us!” Marie shrieked, as a guard near the gate sprinted towards them and aimed.

“We’ll be fine!” Charlotte shouted, spotting the gate and pulling Marie towards it. “We just need to find Pete.”

The guard opened fire, and as the bullets tore towards them Marie watched, stunned as they ricocheted back at him. Repelled by some invisible force field, they bounced straight back at the guard, causing him to leap out of the way behind one of the many armoured jeeps surrounding the bunker. Marie stared at Charlotte.

“Come on!” She shouted, and they ran towards the gate.

Bursting through the gate out into the open, bullets followed them as guards attempted to catch up with them.

“Where is he?” Charlotte yelled, her voice full of panic and fear.

An engine roared into life, as suddenly an armoured jeep spun towards them. For a moment it appeared that it would hit the force field, but it stopped just in time, and the door flew open.

“Get inside!” Pete shouted, grabbing his sister’s hand as she jumped towards him, and helping her pass through into the back.

Marie quickly followed. As she closed the door behind her, she heard the high-pitched, fuzzy sound

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of radio static fill the area. Pete put his foot down.

As they belted away from the scene, Marie could see the guards heading to the jeeps. “They’re after us!” She shouted.

“No they aren’t.” Pete said, a smug twinge in his voice.

Marie watched. “The cars aren’t moving.” Sure enough, the guards were quickly getting out of the cars again, and attempting to follow on foot. Something must be wrong with them. “Do you think it was Charlotte? Could she have done that to the cars?”

She asked, turning to Pete.

He smiled. “She’s not the only one with brains in this family you know. “ He said, nodding to the foot well. Marie looked down to see a pile a of engine parts and a wrench. She laughed.

“Maybe your brother isn’t as stupid as he looks, eh Charlotte?” She said, turning to look at the back seat. “Charlotte?”

Pete glanced over his shoulder. Charlotte was slumped in the seat. “Charlotte? Talk to me.”

Marie clambered into the back to take a look at her. “She’s unconscious!”

“We can’t stop here. We’ll have to wait until we’ve lost them.”

Marie pulled Charlotte’s head into her lap. They drove.

MAYBE SOMETHING ABOUT A NUCLEAR EXPLOSION IN THE PAST

Chapter 4

They said it couldn’t happen again. That it would never happen. The Karachi disaster. The first Level 7 on the International Nuclear Event Scale for a quarter of a century, labelled simply as “a major accident”. On 11th August 2011, the third reactor at the Karachi power plant exploded, sending a plume of radioactive fallout into the sky above Pakistan. They said it was worse than Chernobyl, releasing 600 times more radiation than was released at the atomic bombing of Hiroshima.

143 people were killed in an instant. Thousands more suffered from the fallout. There were a copious reasons given for the accident. Flawed control rods, a dangerously balanced void coefficient, warped reactor vessels and a break down in communication between the safety officers at the site and the operators in charge of the fatal experiment.

The great radiation cloud that formed above Karachi scattered and spread over a vast area. Traces of nuclear mist were found as far away as New Delhi

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in the east, and the radioactive exhaust was detected in Iran, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, U.A.E. and Oman. Outraged, the world waited for a response.

Saudi Arabia, Oman and the U.A.E. put pressure on the U.N. to take action against Pakistan, threatening to withdraw their oil supplies from the world market if significant steps were not taken.

Not to be outdone, Iran and India furthered their efforts in the Nuclear arms race. Pakistan themselves did little to ease international concern, managing the crisis internally whilst maintaining hushed correspondence with the U.N. Security Council.

By the end of the month, residents of Karachi had been evacuated and relocated in the north, and like the Chernobyl disaster twenty five years previously, a grey sarcophagus was erected around the destroyed reactor. News was that Iran was preparing to launch its first “peaceful� nuclear device. The relationship between India and Pakistan reached a new nadir, and India detonated 4 test nuclear weapons in matter of weeks. The Doomsday Clock stood at one minute to midnight, the closest it had ever been on its approach to catastrophic destruction.

Then, one bright September afternoon, they came... *

*

*

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Pete’s knuckles shone white as he gripped the cold steering wheel. Dark towers sat on the horizon, silhouetted by the endless line of street lights.

He looked back over his shoulder at Marie holding Charlotte. So many questions about the entire ordeal flooded his mind. How long would they have until they realised Charlotte was gone? What would happen when they did? It was too late to worry about the uncontrollable. They must keep going, as far as they could. Every moment they escaped the vice-like grip of Antony, they gave the aliens a little more time to step in. To help them sort things out, and get back to some sort of normality. More importantly, to allow Charlotte to begin experiencing life as it should be. Pete almost missed the mundane.

He wanted Lottie to get back to a normal, child-like routine of living.

“How is she?” He asked, again.

“She needs her rest. She is exhausted.” Marie’s voice was calm, yet firm. “Peter, you must not worry so much about Charlotte, she is stronger than you think.”

Pete kept his eyes on the road now, watching as the British countryside provided an image of serenity, grateful for the distraction. Pete had always loved to drive. He and Charlotte spent many visits musing over plans to travel. They always returned to their ultimate fantasy, Africa. The weather, the dis-

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tance, the majestic scenery of savannas, deserts, and waterfalls. Even the freedom of the animal sanctuaries and parks. As always when he he was stressed, Pete’s mind wandered into the heat and freedom of the Serengeti. He barely felt Marie slide into the passenger seat beside him. There was silence for a moment, whilst Marie pulled her legs up to her chest and tilted her head back.

“So, you and I on a road trip?” Marie exhaled with a smile.

“Looks like it.” Pete couldn’t help but smile too.

He glanced over to Marie, she had opened the window beside her slightly, and a cool stream of air brushed the top of her dark curls. They danced like cool fire on her head. He faced the road again.

“Peter, where are we going?”

“I’m not quite sure, but as far away from Cambridge as possible,” Pete replied, spitting out the word ‘Cambridge’, with all its memories of bunkers and captivity.

“We could always leave the country.” Marie spoke softly, more to herself than him. She was facing the window and watching the dark landscape slip sleepily past.

“We could go to France.” She turned her head to face Pete now, staring deep into his eyes. She looked at him with such conviction, Pete realised that the notion was not as far-fetched as it may seem.

“France, do you really think we’d be able to get

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over there?”

“Why not? We go to Dover and take the ferry.

We just disappear.” Pete liked the sound of that.

No more bunkers, no more experiments. Charlotte and him, gone away living away from all of this in a small house in France, if just for a bit and then they could move on. They could do whatever they wanted. As Pete considered these images, something curious happened. He was imagining Charlotte playing, in a quiet cosy lounge. They were playing together when, for some reason Pete was yet to understand, Marie entered his reverie. She simply walked in holding two mugs. Pete’s day-dreams had never contained anyone other than Charlotte. He banished the dream, gripped the steering wheel tightly once more and spoke in his most casual of voices.

“France sounds good, for me and Charlotte.” He returned his concentration to the road. He now had a target to aim for. A direction. He slowly applied more pressure to the accelerator. *

*

*

Antony looked down onto the street from his window. He enjoyed picking one person and following them from one edge of his vision, into their world, and across to the other. A woman ignored a tramp, tripped on a crack in the pavement and had a slight limp to her left side. Antony chuckled. Other than

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that she was a disappointment. But a man with a large beard and baseball cap promised to be more interesting.

The man was just bending down to pick up a scrap of newspaper when Antony’s concentration was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone on his desk.

He answered the intercom. His secretary relayed, through her nasal tone, that he had a call from the research facility. As he bent down to pick up the phone with his left hand, he paused and scrabbled through a pile of documents sitting adjacent to his phone. He ignored the dull tone of the intercom, reminding him throughout that there was still a call for him, as he shifted through the pages. Checking down the old diagnostic columns of the results from the laboratory, he smiled to himself.

He paused. There was no update due from the laboratory today. The smile disappeared as he considered this. It meant that this was an unscheduled call from the facility. Antony did not like things to be unscheduled, they seemed ominous, like a bad surprise, which messed with the neatness of everything around him, causing other things to fall into disorganisation as a result. He suddenly realised that he had now let the phone go on ringing for at least a minute without picking up. The caller might think that he had been on the toilet or something unsavoury like that.

He quickly grabbed the phone and, making sure his breath was even to ensure that the caller did not

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think he had bashfully run from such a personal duty, he answered with a calm, “Antony McCrea speaking.”

“It...”

“Yes?” “..... zzshhhhhhhh...” the line was interrupted by loud static crackling.

“I can’t hear you, speak up dammit.” “ hhhkrrrrrrrrrrrrr...” A loud bang resonated in the background muffling the noise of the static for a moment, before it returned, along with a cacophony of background noises.” Siritshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” Antony was pacing around the room, he kept on holding the phone away from his ear and looking at it. He gave it a violent shake before returning it to the side of his head.

“What is it, man? What the blazes is going on down there?” Antony could feel sweat building up on his brow. He could not remember the last time he perspired. Even when he got angry he was inwardly calm. Always in control. He could feel strands of his hair dislodging from their neat arrangement and falling across his beaded forehead. “What is...” “......girl....................the....Sir?.....” Then the line went dead. The low frequency beep, unlike the chaos of the phone call, was consistent and ordered. An ordered sound which Antony did not approve of. It seemed to defy his own power. Antony raised his arm above his head, and almost threw his phone against

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the wall. He managed to stop himself and placed it as diligently back on his desk, where it remained as he stared angrily at it. There had been something about ‘the subject’, he caught that at least. He hoped that the lab-rat was not causing trouble, though no doubt it was, with all the leniency its father allowed her!

He picked the phone up again and pressed a couple of buttons. It redialled the facility. There was a discordant sound of tones, signifying that the telephone number was incorrect, before the harsh electronic voice reiterated this evident fact. He had to try harder to avoid smashing his phone against the wall. Instead he raised his phone in front of his face and pressed speed dial three. The Major always let his phone ring for a while before picking up. Antony was not in a patient mood. He satisfied his anger by shouting loudly down the line to the unresponsive, ever-ringing tone.

Trying again, and then once more, Antony swore loudly at his phone as it failed to get through to the Major for the third time. Each failure increased the volume and forcefulness of his incessant swearing. After the second call, he had shed his expensive jacket. It trapped him and made him feel sticky. He let it crumple on the floor. After the third he scuffed the sheen of his dark black loafers by kicking the bin at the side of his desk. It flew across the room and clanged loudly against the filing cabinet. He was starting to look manic.

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The door to his office swung open and the head of Antony’s personal assistant appeared with a look of concern on her face. It quickly withdrew again when Antony rounded on her with a slew of expletives and a chucked a pen at the door, tossed as violently as a Biro could be. The door slammed shut behind her. Antony picked up his phone again and once more pressed speed dial number three. If this wasn’t answered, there would be a force of trouble that even Antony could not foresee.

The Major was sat at his desk. He had a large glass of whiskey that seemed to just keep on refilling itself. Three times he had drained it now and each time it swam back in front of him, full once again. The bottle that sat on the other side of the desk was now accusingly empty. The culprit for all of this, he told himself, was the stress. The guards had stopped banging on the door now. They had probably gone to contact Antony. He wasn’t surprised that they weren’t enterprising enough to break down the door themselves. He supposed that it was government property, and they were probably worried about receiving a black mark so early in their careers. In his day, he would have wanted to make a name for himself, but nowadays kids would rather go under the radar, just get by. He asked himself, what was the point? A thin layer of dust lay on everything in his small office. One light remained miraculously on, whilst the other had exploded with firework-like

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sparks. There was noisy shouting and the occasional bang from outside, but the Major was tired. He was too tired for all of this. He had wanted a peaceful last few years. That was why he was sat there, unshifting, taking some peaceful moments before the chaos penetrated his own, safe little world. There had already been a great deal of noise in his life.

Antony’s caller ID flashed up on his phone again.

The Major took another sip of his whiskey and decided that he might as well answer the phone this time. After all, that man would keep ringing until he got an answer, the Major knew. “...bloody incompetent old...Malcolm!! What the bleeding hell is going on down there?” The Major revelled in the anguished tone of the Secretary’s voice. It was the first time any weakness had crept into his usually confident way of speaking.

The Major remained silent. He would let Antony rant a bit more. He held the receiver away from his ear, the alcohol making the situation almost amusing.

“Malcolm! Malcolm? Can you hear me? Has something happened with the subject? Malcolm?

Malcolm! Dammit man, are you there?” Even with the blasts and noise going on, the shouts of Antony still cut through it all and struck right at an unpleasant nerve in his head. “Dammit answer me!...Can you hear me? Malcolm?”

A burst of static cut through the line.

The Major decided to put Antony out of his misery,

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he had suffered enough for the moment. “ KSchhhhhhh...Sorry Secretary, the line isn’t too good down here.” “... cking know the line isn’t good, so tell me what is going on there NOW!” He didn’t know whether it was due to the bad line, but the Major hoped that the fluctuations in the volume of Antony’s shouting was due to him struggling to control his arms from violently gesticulating as he shouted.

“It’s the girl, Secretary.”

“I know something has happened with the girl!!

Now tell me what it is, is she still secure?”

The Major took another sip from the slightly plasterinfused whiskey. “No, Secretary. The girl has escaped.”

He hung up, enjoying the mental image of Antony’s dance of rage. Perhaps the drink was a distraction, but he knew deep down that this would backfire on him. For a brief moment, he relished Antony’s despair. He poured another drink with a sigh. This was not over. He was responsible. He had to remind himself why he had done it. It was the right thing to do.

Antony’s anger subsided after a few minutes of primal screams. Detailed mental calculation took its place. Running through all possibilities, contingencies. He took a minute to collect himself, then went over and picked up the bin. He would get Jones or someone to push out the dent that had been made

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in one side. He went over to the wardrobe that was in one corner of his office and checked his appearance in the mirrored door. He spent a few moments reassembling his neat parting. He took off his sweatsaturated shirt and replaced it with a crisp, white new one. He put on a new tie. Black, firmly fastened in a Windsor knot. He picked up his jacket and his briefcase and left his office, the scene of a crime that only he need know about. He would talk to his personal assistant later. *

*

*

“We’re nearly at Dover,” Pete said, barely taking his eyes from the road. “We’ll be coming up to the checkpoint any minute.”

“What time is it?” Marie asked sleepily, brushing her dark curls from her face.

“Half four.” Pete said. “I took a lot of quiet roads, made a few false turns to confuse any trail.”

Marie nodded. “Have we passed the checkpoint yet?”

Pete frowned. “No were coming up to it now lets hope that the Major is still looking out for us.”

The car pulled up at the checkpoint, and the window slowly slid down. A guard leaned in.

“Good morning sir.”

“If you can call it morning.” Pete said, slumped as if exhausted against the window frame..

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“Can I see your pass please?”

“That’s a government vehicle Sir.” Said a second guard, behind a computer in the checkpoint.

Pete tried not to let the nervousness show in his face.

“My apologies sir.” The first guard said. “If you’d just let me scan your key card.”

“Of course.” Pete handed over the card, hoping that he’d be able to get it back.

The guard inserted the card into a small machine, similar to a credit card machine. It bleeped. The guard read out the information.

“This car is being driven by the chauffeur of Major Malcolm Wroth. Highest possible clearance.” He looked over Pete’s shoulder. “Who’ve you got in the back there?”

Calmer, Pete looked the guard directly in the eyes.

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, it’s a level six security matter.”

The guard was taken aback. “Ah I see sir excuse me.”

The guard nodded. “Let him through.”

Taking back his card, Pete started the car, pulling away once the barrier had been raised. He pushed a button, and the window slid back up.

“That, Peter, was very cheeky,” said Marie, attempting to stifle a giggle.

“I got away with it, didn’t I?” Pete was obviously trying to hide a boastful pride

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“Just about.” She knew how to playfully irritate him. It amused her, and felt right.

Charlotte’s eyelids flickered, and the radio crackled again, despite not being turned on this time.

“Is she waking?” Pete asked, shifting moods, and his concern clear in his voice.

Marie scrutinised Charlotte’s face in the orange, flickering lights of the street lamps passing overhead.

“I’m not sure.” The radio went dead again. “I guess not.”

Pete sighed, disappointed. He looked at the sky, which was slowly becoming lighter. “Dawn is on its way. It’s been so long since she saw the sun. It’s not right. It was never right. We’re doing the right thing, Marie.”

Marie nodded. “What are we going to do?”

Pete shrugged. “Keep our heads down low?.”

“We’ll need somewhere to stay.” Said Marie, stroking Charlotte’s hair. “She needs somewhere to rest, and nowhere will be open for hours.”

“I know.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, seconds passed. “ Mmm...where are we?” Charlotte asked, stirring from her sleep.

Trying to mask his relief, Pete said. “Dover. How are you feeling?”

“Alright. What are we doing in Dover?”

“Looking for somewhere to stay, mon petit chou.”

Marie said, giving her a small squeeze.

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“Aren’t there loads of derelict houses down by the cliffs in Dover? I saw it on a documentary.” Charlotte murmured sleepily.

“Really?” Said Pete. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

It was still dark when Pete first caught a glimpse of the famous ‘white cliffs of Dover’. The pitch blackness of night had subsided, making way for dawn, transforming of the chalk’s colour to a bluish grey, as opposed to the blackened shade of night. Pete smiled at his journey, particularly the ease with which they had travelled to Dover. This natural land-mark raised his morale far more than the faceless streetsigns which had been lit up by searching headlamps of a runaway car.

He turned round to see a sleepy Charlotte laying her head on Marie’s lap. Catching his eye, the Charlotte muttered the timeless question, “are we there yet?”

Pete was happy to hear his sister’s voice. “Yep”, he replied, “Not long to go now.” As they moved off the main road, streets became more familiar to a suburban mind, and each turn channelled the car towards an ever busier centre. Of course, in such early hours of the morning, there were only the occasional cars passing, and even fewer pedestrians. As an industrious section of the town was reached, smoke billowed in the air. The town had changed so much since the arrival of the aliens, to the extent that it reflected

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the early success of Liverpool. It was proof that a country will always adapt to its circumstances. London was still the capital but Dover, a tourist spot for countless years, now had a skyline littered with towers.

Charlotte was right. Here in the gritty back streets of the city, almost engraved into the whitening cliffs, was a hidden and disregarded - almost shanty - town within Dover. It had been reached due to Pete’s decision to turn down the most intriguing roads, not the ones which spoke out as being lived in or commercialised. No one would look for them in here.

Who would dare? It appeared to be a ghost town, with its boarded up doors and grimy walls of derelict garages and convenience stores. Little did the deadened spirit of this town know, just how convenient these rundown houses would be.

“This looks suitable.” Pete stopped the car in front of a boarded up house. “I’ll just pop in and take a look.” He said, jumping out of the car.

“You be careful.” Marie said, slightly but sincerely concerned.

“Don’t worry about me!” Pete replied, smiling in at them before closing the door.

“You like him, don’t you Marie?” Charlotte asked, sitting up slowly as Marie watched Pete ripping some boarding off a front door before heading inside.

“What? No! I, I don’t know. No.” Marie stammered, blushing.

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Pete and Marie would be perfect, Charlotte thought.

Marie began. “You’re brother is an excellent man.

He loves you very much.” She smiled at Charlotte, but seemed to be restraining some inner sadness.

Charlotte picked up on it, receptively and sympathetically. She had not wanted to be a pain, after all Marie had done for her, too.

“Sorry, did I upset you?”

“No of course not Lottie.” Marie replied, putting her arm round her. “You just always know the most awkward questions to ask.”

“Right!” Pete said, pulling open the door to let Charlotte and Marie out. “I think I’ve found something. It’s fairly scruffy, but it’s better than most I reckon. There’s even a some sort of television in there - though what state it’s in, who knows!”

As Charlotte stepped out of the car, a shaft of sunlight, peeking between the houses, illuminated the pavement. She stared at it for a second, before turning on her heels to look at the source.

The sun was rising, and the light shone through holes in the cloud, left by the ships and factories, to bounce off the ocean and brighten the harbour. The rays covered Charlotte face as she closed her eyes. It warmed the depths of her soul. This was what she had missed out on. This was what it felt like to be normal. Pete took her hand, and she felt wholly safe.

“It’s the sun. Pete it’s really the sun!” She turned to face him, whispering in disbelief, her eyes shining

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with tears. “I’m outside.”

“I know Lottie.” He said, his voice strained. “It’s wonderful.”

They stood together for a few moments.

“Come on you two, we should get indoors.” Marie said, and they followed her into the house. All the way in, Charlotte looked into the light. *

*

*

Back in the bunker, the Major was waiting for Antony’s arrival. Charlotte’s escape had been a success. Rather than let the Minister burst into his office without knocking, the Major left the door open. The swifter the Secretary came in, the swifter he would leave.

When he did enter, his wild eyes contrasting creepily with his ordered appearance, the Major was left with the dilemma of what to do next. He needed to retain his position, he knew that sacrifices would have to be made.

A pre-emptive strike would probably be best, “Secretary, I had no idea that this plan was in motion. I should have been on top of this. If I had known what was being planned... I should have been willing to use more force, but my judgement was clouded. I underestimated the girl’s power. We all did. There was nothing we could do to stop them once they got out.”

The Major had already decided where his lie was going. He had helped Charlotte yes, and he would never

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regret that, but he wasn’t going to be a martyr. He wanted to be remembered in the right way, the way that he deserved.

Seething, Antony barked in his face, ‘’Someone has to be responsible! And at the moment the only person I can see is you, Malcolm. It certainly isn’t me.

If I had my way, you know that this would never have happened.”

The Major paused. Waiting and considering what he was about to do. He knew he couldn’t let his reputation be thrown away, so close to his retirement.

He wanted to be remembered. He reiterated to his conscience, sacrifices had to be made.

“I’m the wrong person to ask. Dr. James was with them right before they escaped. You know how he has been with the takeover. He disagrees with what we are doing. He never wanted the same things as we did. I’m certain he was involved somehow.” The Major was surprised at how easily the lie had slipped out of his mouth. It unnerved him, he didn’t think he had the capacity for it. His mouth wasn’t dry and his hands were, his heart rate was normal, his breathing measured. This was pure, unethical self-control.

He didn’t flinch, lose eye contact, nothing. Antony was so close to his face that he could see that his pupils hadn’t even dilated. He had been used to liars and cheats, it had been part of his job to single them out during investigations. “He’s still here somewhere, he’s kept a low profile since the escape. All signs

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point to it being him. It was him.”

Even as he spoke he felt hollow, but this was the only way he could balance the situation. The Doctor should be pleased that his daughter had escaped. If not, well, the Major would not care about helping such a man anyway. This betrayal was the only way out.

Antony patted him patronisingly on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Major.” He spoke with the satisfaction of a man who had been proved right. “Thank you very much indeed. Does it feel better being on the right side for once, hmm? But enough of that. It’s in the past now. Thank you, Major. You may stay here until I’m done with sorting out this business.”

Leaving the room, Antony asked the guards to follow him to Dr. James’ office and called up his assistant to tell him to schedule a press conference.

All-powerful, and with his entourage of guards, the political force advanced towards Dr. James’ office. *

*

*

It was evening by the time that Dr James had finally returned from delivering a debriefing on Charlotte’s condition and everything he had discovered up to her disappearance. He sat down at his desk, tired with professional and paternal strain. He replayed the questioning in his mind.

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“What is her potential?” The repetitive question being spat at him by some government scientist. Cold, clinical. Is this what his daughter had come to? A “potential” threat? His little girl? This one was clearly an Imperial College graduate, no courtesy, nor skill in exposition, just coarse and unfeeling. The government always swept them up. This one could not even tie a Windsor knot. His priorities were up the spout. Dr James remembered trying to explain that he did not, and would not, possibly know what Charlotte’s true potential was. He had considered whether to refer to Charlotte as a girl, or as a science project. Which was it to be, his daughter, or his experiment? The potential of either was at the cost of the other. Eternally intertwined. One not quite existing without the other. Child, or lab-rat.

Lab-child. It was always going to seem unnatural.

Dr James stood up. He ritually switched off the monitors and tucked in all the chairs. Walking purposefully into Charlotte’s room, but without a purpose, he stared at the bookcase. He noted the small collection of novels that Pete had bought Charlotte over the years. He walked across to the bed and sat down. He held his head in his hands and thought about the past few weeks. He scanned his mind for an answer to the question that had plagued him since the beginning of the research. “Am I a father or a doctor?” He murmured to himself. “Regardless of my actions, maybe she would be safer in the hands

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of Marie”. After all, Agatha was always better with her than he was. He had always worried something may happen to Charlotte because of him, that somehow he would, or could, break her. Marie would be able to protect her from the pain, the aliens, and the spite of the world.

He suddenly looked up to see two military police officers stood at the doorway to Charlotte’s room.

“Don’t worry, I’m just on my way out. I was just, just having a moment.” Dr James stood up, straightening his suit jacket. The military police officers approached him. He stopped, and they took a hold of him.

“I’m perfectly capable of making my way out of my own lab, chaps. I appreciate you have a job to do, but I’m not in the mood for this, not today.” He shrugged them off.

“Sorry, Dr James. We have orders to escort you to a holding cell at base.”

“Don’t bloody apologise. He’s a traitor to the country.” Antony had been hanging back behind the two guards, but now emerged, exuding smugness.

“Come along Doctor, It’s over. No point delaying the inevitable any more.”

The Doctor held out his hands for the guards to handcuff.

They escorted him out. *

*

*

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“Right!” Pete said as the door closed behind him.

“I’ve hidden the car and found us some supplies.

How’s that TV coming along?” He entered the lounge to see Marie and Charlotte sat together on the sofa, with the television upside down on the floor. “Ah. I guess it isn’t.”

“It’s not a ‘telly’.” Marie said, slightly sulkily. “It’s nothing more than a box. It doesn’t work.”

“Crikey. That bad eh?” Pete said, smiling as he ruffled Charlotte’s hair. “How you doing?”

Lottie shrugged. “I’ve got a bit of a headache, but I’m OK.” “Good. Well, now I’ve got some food, let’s see if I can get it working. The news has never been so important!” He knelt down on the ground beside the television, gingerly turning it over.

“It isn’t even HD.” Marie said sniffishly, as she headed into the kitchen with the bags.

A few minutes of twiddling dials, adjusting and plugging in the discarded set top box, Pete almost jumped back, as he suddenly achieved an, albeit fuzzy, picture on the screen. The sound boomed at high volume.

“And we go live now to the press conference with Secretary of State for the Home Department and Alien Affairs, Antony McCrea. This is live breaking news. We shall return to regular programming following the news conference.” Just in time.

A hastily assembled stage and podium stood out-

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side the hub of the Home Department headquarters.

Antony was standing behind this podium. Though his hair and clothes both looked immaculate, a slight mark on his collar and a crease on his jacket betrayed a rushed assembly of the appearance of calm and poise. To the trio’s surprise, the Major was ushered onto the stage as well. He was made to stand next to Antony, where he looked highly uncomfortable without the protection of the podium. Moving his clasped hands from behind his back, to laying them awkwardly by his sides and finally resting them in his pockets, he has an expression of total exhaustion.

“I shall keep this brief. I have an announcement to make that concerns the safety of the public, and I consider it my responsibility to make sure they are kept up to date with the latest developments in our fight for our freedom. There has been an as yet unconfirmed alien attack on one of the government laboratories. One of the current experiments, a ‘potentially dangerous alien weapon’, may have been seized by a number of alien collaborators who are currently fleeing from authorities. All of this is, of course, unconfirmed at the moment. However, we have reports suggesting that these betrayers of our freedom are currently in the city of Dover.” The Major grimaces at the mention of a ‘potentially dangerous alien weapon’, but he never expected Antony to be holding a press conference to announce that

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one civilian girl is on the loose. Of course, the girl couldn’t even be considered a potentially dangerous weapon, if Antony hadn’t got the government and the military involved.

“A possible alien collaborator has been apprehended and will imminently be imprisoned. Dr James was in charge of the facility before the government took over, and it is probable that his experiments lead him to fall under the alien influence, a further demonstration of the immediate threat they pose to us all. He is believed to have aided and abetted both the attack and the escape. We have taken immediate action, and this man is therefore currently being held by government police. We have the situation fully under control and expect everything to be under control once again, and be able to again show our superiority over the alien menace through humanity prevailing through adversity. Thank you very much. There shall be no questions.”

Back in the Dover safe-house, Charlotte was panicking. “They’ve got Dad!” She shrieked as they pulled her to her feet.

“What?” Marie came out of the kitchen carrying packets of sandwiches.

“They’ve arrested the doc.” Pete said, trying to stay calm for Charlotte’s sake.

“What? Oh the poor man! How could they do such a thing?” Marie said, clearly concerned.

“Apparently they think he helped us.” Pete said to

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Marie, before turning to his sister. “Charlotte, please try and stay calm.” He moved to put his arm round her, but she shrugged him off, tapping nervously at her arm as she paced the room.

“They’re going to hurt him, I just know it!” She said, her voice escalating in pitch. She put her hands over her ears.

“What’s that noise?” Marie said, peering out of the cracks in the window boards.

“I’m sure they won’t, Charlotte.” Pete said, moving to hold his sister by the shoulders. “The government wouldn’t let him.”

“They mustn’t hurt him! Why have they taken him? I want to see my Dad!” Charlotte cried, her voice choked with hysteria.

Suddenly the television exploded into flames.

“Bloody hell!” Pete shouted, shielding his sister from the sparks. “Charlotte you need to calm down.”

“I said, can you hear that noise?” Marie shouted over the increasing din. “It’s coming from outside!”

HOLD. Quietening down with the urgency resounding in Marie’s voice, Pete and Charlotte certainly heard a strange moan. The door slammed behind them as the trio instinctively tumbled out of the house into the street. The wind was rattling the windows and bushes, and the air throbbed.

“Where’s it coming from?” Pete shouted, attempting to make himself heard as he shielded his face from

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the wind.

“Up there!” Charlotte yelled, pointing to the sky.

The ships were descending. After over a decade of their peaceful, if not uneasy presence, the ships were coming closer, dropping from their usual 17km height at incredible speeds.

“They’re falling!” Marie shrieked.

“Not falling!” Said Charlotte, “They’re coming.”

The reflective base of the saucer, already unusually low, was slowly but clearly rotating. Everyone knew, from living beneath them for so long, that the alien technology allowed them to remain at dizzying heights, but completely still. Now, the saucer was clearly moving. There were a tense few moments where all anyone could do was wait and watch. Many people from the street joined the group out in the road, gazing at the sky. The saucers, usually just a dot in the sky, were becoming visible. The rushing and throbbing wind was the sound of their foreign engines. A loud crash sounded at the end of the street.

“I’m going to go see what’s happening,” Pete shouted, stepping away from Charlotte and Marie. “at the end of the street!” Marie’s face turned to shock. ‘What?’

She instinctively put a protective arm around Charlotte, who just stared blankly at the underside of the descending saucer. Another ship, hovering above some far away urban sprawl, moved down and past the sun, blocking it for a few moments. It was enough

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for Pete.

“I need to see what’s happening in the city!” He yelled again into her ear.

Marie nodded, and Pete sprinted to the end of the street.

In two minutes the ships had descended seven kilometres and now, as they clustered around Dover, the city was plunged into darkness. Up until this point, there had been an unnatural silence. ‘You could have heard a pin drop’, the saying goes, but now the object, having dropped, was far more drastic than any pin. The dull echo which vibrated through the body of Dover was how anyone might imagine the afterhum of the Big Bang. However, to everyone around, this was not a sign of any new beginning. This was the birth of hysteria.

At the rushing thuds of Pete’s feet, followed shortly by the first scream, the silence was broken forever.

Shouts and wails rose so highly that the aliens themselves should have been as shocked at the world, as the world was of them. Men were banging through their front and back doors, any doors, in a primordial instinct of protecting families. Their efforts were only impotent, as no force of love could return those ships back to their nonthreatening positions.

The lack of sunlight spelt out a doomsday, not yet beyond the desperation of mankind, whose panicked breaths of fear seemed to combine into beating the pulse of the world. Not only were minds clouded over

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with the reek of dread, but the warmth of the Sun’s reaching waves were blocked, snatched away by the icy shadow of alien ships. The shakes of despair were combined with a wintry frost, which seemed to scrape through blood, making it feel like stiff and brown-red ice.

Fear is indiscriminate. No words could be deciphered amongst the throng of feverish mayhem. Undoubtedly, “help” and “Oh God!” were amongst the monosyllabic yells, as people found an inner pang of religion rising through their mouths, with the seeming finality of looming death catching their souls in their throats. Hearts and tongues were the only muscles working together in this mob of chaos, as one pumped, the other would holler. People became beasts in a jungle fire, and felt a terror which could only be compared to that momentary jump of a horror-filled shock, sustained over the time it takes for anarchy to return to normality. It seemed as if the whole world was to crash, and to burn.

Pete ran back up the road to where Marie and Charlotte were still standing. “It’s chaos out there!

People think we’re under attack.”

“What shall we do?” Marie yelled, trying to make herself heard.

“I don’t know. I think they’ve stopped coming down for now.” Pete replied, as they stared at the end of the street.

Suddenly, Marie shouted, bringing Pete out of his

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reverie. “Pete! Something is wrong with Charlotte!”

Pete spun around to find Marie’s eyes wide with fear, looking up at him from the ground. Charlotte had collapsed, and she lay in Marie’s arms, moving in and out of consciousness. ‘What’s happening to her?’ He shouted, helping Marie lean her against the garden wall. Marie shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

Suddenly, with a loud popping noise, the radio in the car parked next to them exploded in a shower of sparks, setting the upholstery on fire. “The car!”

Pete shouted, becoming distracted as Charlotte began to shake violently. Her hand twitched at her arm repeatedly, convulsively. “P- Pe-Pete.” She stammered, as thick and oozing blood started to slug slowly from her nose.

Pete was petrified. ‘What the hell is happening to her?’. Marie was equally panicked. ‘I don’t know.

They’re lower. It’s hurting her.’ Pete was just about to reply when he drew his hand out from under his sister’s head. It was covered in her blood. “God Marie! She’s bleeding from her ears!” He shouted over the roar of engines. “We have to get her to a hospital!” “It’ll be chaos out there!” Marie shouted in return. “Get her inside.” Together they hurried her through the door. They rested her on the sofa, using tissue to soak up the flow of blood.

“I need to find a Doctor for her, she can’t stay here.” Pete said, pulling on his jacket and heading for the door. “Please, stay with her.” His concern

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for Charlotte was paramount.

“No!” Marie protested. “You should stay, I’ll go.”

Pete shook his head. “It’ll be too dangerous out there for you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

With that, he headed straight for the door. He couldn’t even face turning to see his sister in such a vulnerable state. He had to find her some help, if he was unable to heal her himself. whole of the northern hemisphere, but not the southern. As a result, mass panic makes way to mass exodus as people try to get away from the ‘impending’ alien attack and head south. Pete, Charlotte and Marie are amongst them. The go about trying to organise transport out of Dover.

Outside, fear filled the air. It combined and mutated into sounds of violence, theft and vandalism.

Pete hurried worriedly along the street until he saw that his path was blocked. A huge group of people had gathered a little way up the road. They all stared into a shop window. Pete was exasperated. He needed to get through! Pushing through the crowds, their speech was eerily stunted, as they listened to the booming sound of the news, coming from the shop. Despite his desperation to get Charlotte medical help, no one took heed of his shouts of, “is anyone here a doctor? A nurse even? Please, my sister is very sick!” They all just stood, staring and listening. Pete was dumbfounded, he himself turning to silence and resorting once more to pushing his

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way through the crowd. Without his own voice ringing in his ears, he was able to pick up some of the words and footage from the large, invasive screen.

It must be important, he concluded, otherwise, why would all of these people be herded round it? As he stopped at the back of the group, one of the people, an elderly gentleman, his eyes full of concern, looked at him in a silent greeting. Pete nodded at him, then turned his attention to the news broadcast on the televisions. It was only just audible over the sounds of rioting further off into town that were still ringing out as a relentless soundtrack to the bizarre gathering. The picture was fuzzy, and continuously deteriorating, but it was clear the news anchor was flustered, anxious, and very tired. He had obviously been on air for many hours. ‘We have received confirmation that, as first suspected, the alien ships have descended all over Europe and America... It appears as though they have descended all over the world, I-...

Sorry, excuse me... Are you sure?’ The newsreader had his finger up to his ear. His eyes widened. The newsreader nodded. ‘I... Uh... It appears as though the descent has occurred all over the world, north of the equator... We still don’t know why at this time, or what the aliens are planning, but... It appears as though the Southern hemisphere is safe... for now...’

At this, the crowd became a flurry of motion. People ran screaming and searched frantically for the friends and relatives they were with. Pete just moved further

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forwards, towards the televisions, pushing through the frenzied crowd. ‘We are still waiting for word from the Government, but many religious and antialien groups are claiming that this is it... This is the attack we’ve been expecting... This channel will now be going off air. We do not know when... Or... If...

We will return. This is Dan Macintosh for TVKent saying... Good luck. And God bless.’ The screens all simultaneously went blank on the frowning, tired face of the aging news anchor. This snapped Pete out of his trance. Suddenly the fear gripped him. He had to get back to Marie and Charlotte. There was no time to help Lottie now, and he would find no one in these appalling riots. They had to get out of Dover.

They had to go now. He raced back down the road. *

*

*

“Have you heard the news?” Pete shouted as he rushed in. “How is she?”

“I can’t get any response out of her.” Marie replied, hovering over the sofa where his sister lay, blood congealing onto the fabric. In the deserted, grimy building, she was surely at serious risk of infection.

Pete and Marie were panicking about what to do next. Charlotte lay unconscious still. The length of time she had been under was becoming more and more concerning. Charlotte’s eyelids flickered and Pete rushed to her side, “Charlotte? Charlotte, can

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you hear me?” Charlotte’s eyes flickered again, instantly an old wireless radio growled in the corner.

“Marie, we need a plan. We need to get out of here.” He trembled as he spoke. “The ships have only dropped in the Northern hemisphere. Listen!”

He tuned the radio in to the twenty-four hour news station. A crackling voice was slowly manipulated by Pete, as he fumbled with the archaic radio dial. “At this moment in time, the aliens have lowered their ships, but only in the North. I repeat, the Southern hemisphere has not been deemed a hostile area, yet.

Please remain calm, and try not to travel...” Pete turned the radio off. He stared at Marie intently, then at Charlotte.

“We have to get South. It can’t just be coincidence that Lottie got ill at the exact moment those things came closer.”

“How on earth are we going to go South, Pete?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve got to get there, and we should use this panic while we can.” He walked to the door and looked outside. “We’ll take the boats.

The same as everyone else. If we do that, we run less of a risk of the government finding us.”

“But what about the riots? We’ll have to carry her through all that...” They both look at Charlotte. She twitched gently, almost seemingly aware that they are watching her.

“We have to try... If there’s any chance it can help her and make her better again, we have to try.”

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Eventually, Marie gave the smallest of nods. “You’re right.”

Pete looked at Marie, and they knew what they would have to do. Pete walked over to Charlotte. He stroked her hair back off of her face.

“Lottie, it’s Pete. We have to leave Dover much sooner than we’d planned. We’re going to take one of the boats, but before we get there we’re going to have to spend a bit of time outside, and I just need you to hold on, just a little while longer. I won’t let you out of my sight, and Marie will keep an eye on both of us.” Lifting her gently, he smiled. “Light as a feather.”

“Ready?” Marie asked, smiling sadly.

“Yes, let’s go.” *

*

*

Marie led the way as Pete carried Charlotte down to the dockyards. The scene by the water was chaotic.

The crowds who had not already found a boat were only getting worse. The panic surrounding the imminent attack had gripped everyone in Dover. People were shouting and screaming. Inescapable fires dotted the horizon and lit up the sky above Dover.

Nobody knew what was going on. People all over the country had always assumed that they were prepared for any eventuality. Everybody had been lulled into a false sense of security. Now, finally the time

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had come, and the entire country had gone insane.

It was only getting worse the nearer the trio got to the port. Since the final news broadcast, everyone was heading for the sea to get out the country as quickly as possible. Every boat in the area had been drafted in. Dover was one of the busiest ports operating in England, but no one had expected this.

People packed the streets, all pushing towards the port. Many were trampled underfoot. Many were victims of the looters. More still were lost in the riots. Careful to avoid the masses, Marie led Pete and Charlotte to the water.

The nearer to the waterfront people got, the more ruthless they became. Pushing, jostling, biting and punching their way aboard. How strange that chaos turns people into beasts. Some of the tired and weary were pushed into the sea when a new boat was available for boarding. The whole port was fighting. “There’s a boat!� Marie pointed across the water. Little more than a deep-sea fishing trawler had hurriedly docked and secured itself against the pier.

As it did so, the crowd at the chain link gate stirred impatiently, people shoving and shouting to try and make sure they were near the front of the crowd. The line of Police and soldiers on the other side readied themselves against the impending onslaught of a rush for the limited space on the boat. Even they, surely, would have pushed for a place on the boat, had their uniforms not exposed them as upholders of the law.

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Pete looked at an alarmingly young-looking private who was clearly staring at them. Pete made sure to hold the Privates’s gaze. Eventually, the young soldier approached one of the more senior Policemen, said something inaudible to him and pointed at Pete, Marie and Charlotte. Just for a moment, Pete let himself feel hopeful.

The Policeman pushed his way over to them, brushing aside the clinging, pleading people who each had their own reasons as to why they needed a space on the boat.

“You two, with the ill kid. Come through.” The Policeman turned his attention to the rest of the crowd.

“NO PUSHING OR NOBODY WILL GET ON THIS SHIP. LET THESE PEOPLE THROUGH. THEREST OF YOU WILL HAVE YOUR TURN!” Somehow, the people surrounding them actually responded to this stamp of authority, some even managed to manouver themselves to allow Pete and Marie a little more space to carry Charlotte and their limited belongings through the gate. Pete said a little thank you under his breath as they moved along the small pier. It was almost like a prayer, but he didn’t know who (or what) it was to. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps the dedication of Marie and Pete, but more probably - given the circumstances - it was a helping hand from the sky.

As they made their way along the pier towards the

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boat, Pete turned to Marie. “Will we need passports?”

“In this chaos?” Marie replied. “Not likely!”

They reached the boarding plank, and Pete led the way to carry Charlotte on board.

As the boat set sail, Pete and Marie sat down on the deck with Charlotte between them. They felt lucky, for once, and were safe, for now.

Chapter 5

Alarm. Anxiety. Awe. Fright. Panic. Shock.

Terror. This was the reaction to the ship drop.

When the great metal discs dropped towards the earth, riots broke out across the Northern Hemisphere. Vladivostok, Washington and Stockholm were razed to the ground. The governments of the world were powerless to stop the destruction, rioters easily outnumbering those who were trying to restore order. Countries in the Southern Hemisphere were reluctant to accept refugees from the north. Many closed themselves off entirely, ordering their armies to patrol their borders. Only Argentina, South Africa and New Zealand were sympathetic to their fellow human’s plight. The reflective underside of the ships was now so close to earth that the cites they were covering could be seen clearly in them, doubling the destruction of the riots and increasing the paranoia and anxiety of those moving underneath them. Stalactites of twisted metal hung in the sky, which was dotted orange with fire and flames that were consuming

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the ground below. When the ships plunged to the ground, the world tumbled into chaos. *

*

*

Once the boat was safely at sea, Pete and Marie moved Charlotte over to a corner obscured by a small cupboard attached to the side of the boat. Although still noisy, the sound was less invasive, and the adults could at last hear one another’s voices.

“To France, then”, Pete sighed, feeling the exhaustion that the chaos had left behind overcome him.

“Yes. The dreaded French, eh?”

Both laughed, the joke seeming funnier given how tired they were. After a shared silence, Marie put her head on Pete’s shoulder.

“I feel as if I know you so well now, Pete, but what do you know about me?”

Leaning his head back against the wall Pete sighed.

“I know that you’re clever, strong, and that you love Lottie.” He paused. What did he actually know about Marie’s private life? Nothing. He had been too afraid to ask before. Turning his head downwards, he accidentally caught the warm smell of her hair. “Tell me the rest?”

“I am French.” She said. “I am French and I live in England. This means that I am an outcast.

Now I am returning to France, and I may well be an

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outcast there. I want to see my family, and I can’t.

I promised my sister that I would visit her, and I haven’t. We were so close. I miss her, truly.”

Pete thought his shoulder was becoming damp, but could not be sure. He could not tell if Marie was crying, or not.

“Yes?” he whispered, waiting for her to continue, “My mother and father are separated. They broke up. Before the aliens, you know? My childhood was okay but my parents divorce was hard on us. I spent much of my time growing up looking after my sister.

I just wish I could see Celine more. I don’t know.

It’s almost a guilt. You must know. A helplessness.”

“I know. At least, when I thought I wouldn’t be able to see Charlotte, I felt powerless. It wasn’t my fault, but how was she to know? You’re right. It was almost a guilt. But it’s not your fault, you know that, Marie.” Kissing the top of her head, Pete felt Charlotte shift against his knee. Even now, feeling so utterly helpless with her, Pete wanted to be free of the guilt which kept him by his sister’s side, scared to ever lose sight of her again.

“It is such a shame about your parents. I am sorry to complain about mine, when they are still here!

But you have Lottie, yes? And the Doctor. He is a good man.”

Pete scoffed at the thought of his own, cold parentage. He had never known his real dad, and ‘the Doc’ had been a crude impression of the idea of what a fa-

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ther should be. Even to his own, natural, daughter, he was clinical and unfeeling. His Mother had been so different. She had a presence around her which warmed and soothed. She embraced everyone and everything. But she had died, and the affection he had felt for her had entered into Charlotte.

“A good man? Would we really be here now if he was a good man, Marie? I mean, he’s hardly the devil incarnate, but good? Look at poor Lottie!”

Marie pulled away from him. “It was only what he had to do, Pete. Remember that. He never wanted Antony’s changes.”

“Why do anything in the first place! The world and its wife would never make me harm Lottie, so why does her own father harm her and snatch away her childhood? It’s wrong, Marie. Clinical, cold, and wrong. I don’t know how you could bare working for him.”

“He always treated me well. He always thought it was for the best.”

“At what cost?” Pete pithily concluded. The sensitive topic would not be touched upon again.

Meanwhile, the other passengers had also calmed down. Those who had no room to sit were leaning on one another, uncomplaining, sharing the refugee spirit. There was not the hush of when the ships first dropped, but the cacophony of noise which had followed it had drained away to create a titter of tired anxiety. The boat sailed ever Southwards.

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After twenty minutes or so, Charlotte rose her head from Pete’s lap and, as he felt the weight shift, he placed a protecting hand instinctively upon her shoulder, despite being half asleep himself.

“Hi.” She said quietly.

“Hello you.” Smiling at his sister, Pete was glad to hear her voice, but cautious that he should contain his delight.

The nearer they came to France the more Lottie seemed to recover. By the time the captain called out that the ship was heading into port, she seemed almost chatty. Still pale, but certainly relaxed, Charlotte kept noting her progress.

“I’m feeling a lot better.” She said, as the boat was docking. “But still pretty shaky.”

“We’ll rest you here for a bit, Lottie,” Pete began, “Marie says that they won’t even so much as notice us over in France. They’re all so distanced from England and our news now, anyway. You can rest with us here, and then.”

He looked to Marie, who seemed to understand him, nodding her head and finishing his sentence, “then we’ll go South again”. *

*

*

Antony stared out at central Dover as it passed slowly by the window of his car. The road was clogged

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with people, stationary cars and snail paced traffic.

He grimaced at the smashed windows, the people running back and forth seemingly undeterred by the torrential rain. He watched a group of people come together to heave a car door through the glass front of a shop. They all rushed inside and emerged moments later, laden down with expensive-looking boxes of things. He turned away from the window, glad to have the protection that the tinted window and reinforced steel of his car provided. He folded his arms tightly, aware that a slight shake had developed in one hand. Stress, not fear. Either way it could be seen as a weakness.

“Can’t we get there any faster Benton?” The car had seemingly ground to a halt. “Go up on the pavement, it’s what the horn is for.”

Antony’s driver hesitated for a moment before pulling the steering wheel hard left and bumped the car up the kerb. Pedestrians in various states of anger, shock and pain flew past Antony’s window as they bumped along the pavement, headed for the docks. The car arrived at the entrance to the port, but it did not stop for the checkpoint. The guard knew better than to stop Mr. McCrea. He waved them straight through.

The car continued down to the cargo area of the docks, and then stopped. Antony stepped out of the car.

The sea breeze froze against Antony’s face as he surveyed the damage done to one of England’s largest

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and busiest ports. Most of the larger fires had been put out now. Cranes and cargo lay twisted and mangled on the quayside. The white cliffs of Dover, no longer white, already damaged from the industrialisation of the town, were standing proud in the evening twilight. There were ships lined up all along the quayside. Huge freighters, once used for ferrying cargo now had thousands of people packed into them, part of the mass exodus. The crowds that had amassed when the ships first fell had dwindled slightly, but there still remained large queues lining the docks, hundreds of people wide and deep, people jostling, trying to get to the front while the army attempted to enforce order.

He thought about how the aliens must be watching this all in utter amazement. It must look like a bloody ant farm. Change one aspect of the environment and everyone breaks out into a sodding hysteria. The chaos disturbed Antony. It was a delayed result of all those years of soft sodding peace mongering parliament. Gradually they were returning the Churchill England. The stoic Englishman will return. But it would take something like this to weed out the bloody useless.

Antony stormed into the on site mobile police command unit. The police reinforcements had restored a fragile order. Optimistic estimates predicted Dover would be on the mend in two or three days, although there would obviously be major staffing problems

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what with half the city running with their tales between their legs. This bothered Antony. He was a politician at heart. His concern for the country’s well-being ran through his veins. His more pressing personal concern was the girl. He wouldn’t get the blame for Dover. Anyway the only place you can get to quickly from it was France, and the only way he’d end up there was if he drifted there as a corpse. His face reddened as he headed towards another shipping office, still without any answers.

“Jones” He barked.

“Yes Secretary?”

“This is ridiculous! Why have I been walking around this concrete battleground for the last hour and a half?”

“Because... w-we’re looking for the girl.” Jones sputtered through the downpour.

“Yes but you’ve bloody not got anywhere, have you Jones? Can you even tell me who the hell is in charge round here? I’ll get this done my bloody self.”

Jones pointed a steady hand at a crowd around a large army truck, “Sargent. Dickerson, he seems to be telling people what to do.”

Antony fought his way through the throng of people. The army seemed to be making up as much of the crowd as they were controlling. Antony was making mental notes as he walked through of reports that would be submitted to important people, reforms to be made, resolutions to be passed, heads that would

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roll. “Dickerson is it?” “...no they go over there, just make sure that you keep them separate from the other lots. Yes I’m Sergeant Dickerson, who are you?” The Sergeant had large eyebrows that met in the middle as he talked.

“Antony McCrea. I need to know if a small girl accompanied by a Frenchwoman and a young man have left these docks.”

“Oh, you’re that new Secretary for Alien Affairs aren’t you?. Do you really expect me to remember three people among all of this?” He gestured to the writhing masses that the army were organising into something approaching large queues, which lead to the ships.

“No. I’m not expecting you to. I’m telling you to.

It is a matter of national security. It’s not just any girl, it’s the subject that escaped from a government lab...”

“So you need us to help you clean up your mistake?” Sgt. Dickerson was scanning the crowds, barely taking notice of Antony.

Antony gritted his teeth and stared at the bridge of the Sergeant’s nose.”It was not a mistake, Sergeant.

It was an unpreventable alien intervention. Anyway, Jones? Jones.” Jones had been off liaising with another military officer, but on cue he appeared at his side, brandishing a piece of paper.

“The description of the girl sir.” Jones had a way of knowing what Antony was going to ask for before

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he had to. It was the reason he had survived while other of Antony’s assistants had a job lifespan of mere hours.

“She is Pale, thin, dark eyes, white blonde hair, 12 or 13 years old.” He read this all off the sheet before turning to look hopefully at the sergeant.

“I can ask around, but I can’t promise anything.”

“I don’t need promises, I need results. She should stand out, she would probably be ill, or maybe even look like she’s dying, she’s not a regular little girl Sergeant.” A young private who stopped to listen in on the conversation suddenly spoke up in an uneven, pubescent voice.

“Erm...I think that...earlier...there was a...”

“Speak up, boy! Have you seen this girl?” As Antony rounded on the young man, he seemed to recoil before gulping loudly and continuing.

“Yes, it was...strange...there was a couple...they had a daughter, the crowd seemed happy to let them through to the front...I was... can you please move back!...I was going to send them to the back, but then I saw the girl. She looked really ill. So I let them through.”

Antony’s smile spread across his whole face. He could feel the situation once again coming under his control. Restoring order, minimum exposure of what he wouldn’t admit, even to himself, was a near catastrophe. Quiet the achievement “And where is this ship now?” Antony was already

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scanning the ships lined up at the quayside, expecting to catch sight of his prey amid the thousands of people.

“I’m afraid...it...it left hours ago.” The private knew that this was not what Antony wanted to hear, his hesitation putting off the moment of revelation.

“It what? Fine! Well, where was it headed? If you can’t tell me that then you had better go and throw yourself into the sea now, and save me from getting Jones here to do it himself.”

“France. It was headed for...France” The private’s voice was quivered and his eyes had a watery sheen that was not just caused by the sea breeze lashing the docks. He had only been in the army a few months, he was not ready for this interrogation.

“Typical.” The private saw Antony rotating on the spot to face his assistant and used the opportunity to scamper away into the crowd, away from any possible retribution. The Sergeant had disappeared as well, so Antony swallowed his prepared rant about the state of disorganisation here at the docks and begun thinking of his next course of action, determined to wrestle the situation back under his control.

“Jones! Get me the king of France, or whoever runs their country, or whoever is the most important person you can get hold of. Someone who can get me answers Jones! And I want an office, somewhere professional looking. Don’t want them thinking we haven’t got control of this thing.”

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Jones set off at a quick pace. He seemed to be able to run without appearing to actually run. Antony walked to his car and prepared himself to talk with the French. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He may even have to be nice to them.

“Follow Jones’ car. And get me a printout of all the important government people in France. I don’t want them knowing more about me than I do about them.” He threw open the door of his car and tried to steady his shaking hand as he sunk into the leather seat.

PUT ON CHARLOTTE IS CAUSING HER PAIN. THE STOP ALLOWS MARIE AND PETE TO CONNECT AND DEVELOP THEIR RELATIONSHIP FURTHER. CHARLOTTE REACTS WELL TO THE RELATIVE COMFORT SHE IS IN. *

*

*

The boat pulled shakily into the port, colliding gently with the pier. Marie woke up. She hadn’t noticed how tired she had been. She had been leaning on Pete, his arm was wrapped around her affectionately. Charlotte had been dozing, her head resting on Marie’s lap when without hardly noticing, Marie had drifted into a gentle sleep. Marie stayed there, listening to the creaks of the docking boat, her head sleepily leaning against Pete, basking in the peace

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of the moment. She buried her head a little further into Pete’s warm chest and ran her fingers over Charlotte’s pale hair. “Sleep well?” Pete said sheepishly. Marie started, “Oh I’m sorry I thought you were asleep,” she started to move. “It’s okay, honestly.” Pete said, regretting he had said anything, hopeful that she would stay in is arms just a little longer. They locked eyes in a moment of tenderness, their faces almost touching as the rocking of the shallow waves against the dock pushed them closer.

Their lips touched lightly as Charlotte stirred, “Are we there yet?” They both exhaled and turned their heads to Charlotte. “Just landed, kid.” Said Pete, exchanging a bashful look with Marie. They had arrived at the port of Biarritz, the overcrowded boat’s passengers had started disembarking and were trickling onto the dock. Small skirmishes broke out intermittently but the crowd, too existed by the journey to put up a fight, still moved on steadily. The saucers were still a threat in the backs of their minds as they arrived but it felt safer. The aliens seemingly didn’t deem the French port worthy of their attention. “My father’s holiday home in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port will be even better, it’s much further from those urban areas affected by the Aliens.” Marie’s words reassured Pete. Charlotte was still sleepy, but she too was comforted by Marie’s words, in fact she even looked forward to being in the countryside. Even though the ordeal of travelling with the mysterious illness was

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an unbearable strain on Charlotte she felt free and positive in the company of Pete and Marie.

“We should take the night bus, it will be more discreet than the train.” Marie seemed confident and comfortable in her native country. They boarded the bus without arousing any suspicion. Maybe Marie was right as they did indeed seem to be more relaxed about the whole ‘Alien’ thing in France. They sat at the back of the bus, allowing Charlotte to lie down across the seats and sleep again. The bus was only half full as it was late and most people had apparently opted to travel by train from the port. Despite their surroundings seeming comparatively peaceful, Maries expression betrayed a nervousness which Pete had never seen in her before.

“Everything okay Marie?” She let out a weary sigh.

“It is just that this is the first time I’ve been home in nearly ten years. My family will be at the cottage, they always are at this time of year.” “You must be excited to see them,” Pete offered. “I am a little apprehensive, I fear that my little sister will not be happy to see me.” “Life’s been complicated since the aliens arrived. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t get home. Surely your family will understand that?” “After my mother left, there was no one to look after my father and sister. I don’t think they blame me but I don’t think they understand why I stayed in England, especially after the reports about the hostility they harboured towards

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other countries. My sister waited for me to come home and take care of her, she needed me.” “You mustnt blame your self Marie.” “I know you are right Peter but I need her to forgive me.” The bus pulled up outside a long gravel driveway in amongst expansive fields and trees, a wooden fence separating the driveway from the road they had travelled.

“This is us,” Marie said. They stepped off of the bus and headed up the driveway towards the modest farmhouse. It was charmingly French in its appearance, overgrown rose bushes covered the sides of the driveway as they walked towards it, a light visible through the window on the upper floor of the cottage.

Marie took a deep breath and turned towards Pete and Charlotte. “Ready?” she asked. “Yeah”, said Charlotte excitedly. Marie knocked on the door, they waited, no-one answered. She looked through the letter box and knocked once more. Again no one answered. They all looked at each other, “Don’t worry, they always...” Marie turned over a large plant pot and took a key from underneath it, “...leave a key.

The door opened into a warm and homely-looking room. To the side was a large kitchen with typically French features, a large stove stood against the wall on the stone floor and wooden beams ran along the ceiling. They were all exhausted and the bus ride followed by the inviting heat of the cottage only added to their drowsiness. “Come on I’ll fix you both a bed, and then I’ll show you around in the morning”

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Marie reached out her hand to Charlotte. As she helped her up the stairs, Marie turned to Pete and smiled warmly at him. He beamed back. “Goodnight...” She mouthed. As he watched her leave, a warm tide spread through him. She felt it too. Marie awoke with a start that morning to the sound of the front door slamming. There were only two people that it could be and her stomach knotted in a mix of anticipation and apprehension. She jumped out of bed, just as Celine entered the room. The figure that stood before her was of a grown woman, not of the nine year old girl she half-expected to see. Charlotte awoke to the sound of shouting in another room, she could hear two women arguing in French. One voice was recognisable as Marie’s. She tugged on Pete’s arm, he was already awake. He made his way into the hallway following the highly-strung voices. A young woman bolted past him, slamming the front door again on the way. Marie ran after her shouting desperately “ Celine! Celine attente! S’il vous plait!”

The harsh sound of a car pulling away at speed over the gravel and Marie’s desperate sobs filled the air.

Celine had gone and Marie knew she wouldn’t be coming back. Marie knew they were not welcome in the cottage they would leave that morning. *

*

*

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Antony charged into the office, his heavy footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. He decided Jones had just about made up for his poor performance at the docks with this setup. He sat down heavily on the leather chair behind the desk.

Jones bustled in after him, and went over to the far side of the room. He pressed three buttons on the control panel, mounted halfway up the wall. Both men were surprised by the sound of the mechanism whirring behind the wooden panels. The wall in front of Antony divided down the middle to reveal a large, flat television screen that occupied two thirds of the wall space. Antony patted down his suit jacket and ran the fingers on his right hand through his hair in preparation. Jones stood off to the side, looking slightly smug. Antony didn’t like smugness in other people but couldn’t see it in himself. He would admit to himself that Jones had done a good job, but he wouldn’t let him enjoy it. After all, Jones was paid to do this, and he would have fired him if he hadn’t got it done.

“Jones? Who is this we’re speaking too?”

“Claude Jobert. He’s at the French Foreign Affairs office.”

“I’ve never bloody heard of the man, Jones. He doesn’t sound particularly important, Jones. In fact it sounds more like we’ve been fobbed off. And you know I hate being fobbed off. And it’s not done to let an Englishman be fobbed off by a bloody Frenchy.

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Is this the best you could do?”

“The Minister was unavailable today. This is the highest ranking person that we could get hold of at the office at such short notice.”

Antony grumbled under his breath. He straightened his tie. “Right, put him on then.”

Jones pressed another button on the control panel.

Black transformed into into a vivid and blurry satellite display. A thin man with black hair and redrimmed spectacles now occupied the wall. He stared out at Antony and Jones.

“Mr. Jobert?” Antony offered.

“Oui. You are Monsieur McCrea, no?”

“Secretary McCrea, Yes.” “And for what reason do we have the honour of speaking to you English today?”

“I’m going to cut to the chase, Jobert” “What chase? We have not cut anything here, and if we have it is on French soil, so it has nothing to do with you.” Antony realised that he was on video call rather than simple phone call. He had wanted to be able to intimidate the Frenchman to his fullest capability, but it meant he had to keep his emotions in check. He inwardly sighed and muttered a few derogatory things about the French while appearing to pause.

“Sorry, you misunderstood me. We believe that there are fugitives from England currently either on their way France, or already docked at one of your

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ports. Obviously you do not want to be seen to be harbouring known criminals, and so I would hope that they will be apprehended and extradited back to England immediately.”

The Frenchman wore a reptilian grin. His eyes remained cold, his mouth merely turning slightly upwards at the sides.

“Of course we have heard about the...research that has occurred in your country, and as one government to another, we obviously sympathise. Whenever mistakes are made they must obviously be rectified as soon as possible. Of course, after the ship drop, our ports have become as chaotic as yours. If people are not arriving they are leaving. The chance of spotting three people from amongst the many thousands is very unlikely. Of course, it is unfortunate and embarrassing, that they managed to slip through one of the holes in your net.”

Antony grew tired of the Frenchman’s tone. “Listen. If we found a girl believed to be fleeing from your authorities, we would try to stop her and, unlike you, we would make sure that she was not able to slip away quite so easily again. Of course if any of this did happen, then it would be down to our own goodwill and generosity if we revealed the details of this to your country. I mean, before this, when was the last time our two nations had any sort of formal contact?”

“So it is not our first act to come running with

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news to you English. Especially if it is news that the media may want to hear about first, of how the French have succeeded where the English could not!

How the French have discovered a girl with ‘special powers’ who will do wonders for their Extra Terrestrial program, which, as you may or may not know, is among the world’s most advanced.” The Frenchman smiled his strange grimace again. “Of course, not that I am saying we have heard anything from our police.”

Antony could not control his rage. He found it hard enough to suppress his anger if he was spoken to without respect by a colleague, a superior even. But to be treated this way by a Frenchman? The lowest of their international neighbours! It tore at his heart, bypassing any self-control that he had cultivated in years of meetings and negotiations in parliament.

“Now see here you bleeding Froggy bas...” He could not get the words out quickly enough as they bubbled up from inside him. “If you think that you can get away with speaking to an Englishman like that then you’ve...I mean your country is...” Antony paused again, the Frenchman’s awkward smile continuing through Antony’s tirade. Tony was used to people being intimidated by him. He was reminded why he hated and avoided video calls whenever he could. Many people did think he was much more intimidating in person. It was how he had risen so quickly ahead of the rest of his contemporaries. The

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Frenchman was not intimidated. ‘’Normally, wild horses couldn’t drag me to your filthy country, the arsehole of the globe, but I’m going to come down there. When my country’s security is at stake I would go anywhere. I will come there and you will be sorry for speaking to me like that. You will never regret anything more than disrespecting me and my country.” Slightly off cue, Jones flicked the switch and the screen died to black again. ‘’Jones! I hadn’t finished! I’m going to look like an idiot!” ‘’Sorry, I thought....”

“Christ Jones...Look, I never thought I would be saying this to you. But get me to France. I don’t care how, but I want to be there yesterday!” Jones started to head out the room with a nod. “And set up a bloody press conference!” *

*

*

Journalists had filled up the hotel around the corner from the Home Department headquarters. The country’s newspapers were incurring expenses at a faster rate than normal, as hundreds of sleep-deprived men and women kept themselves pepped with various forms and combinations of expensive food and drink from the minibars. All of them were waiting for the latest update on the government lab escape

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story. There was a raucous atmosphere when the Secretary announced that there was to be another press conference regarding the latest developments.

The journalists liked Antony McCrea. They liked him because he always sold copy.

The hubbub died down as Antony stepped up to the podium. The onlooking press, with Dictaphones and laptops in hand, were primed to hear, write and send off their next article.

“I shall keep this brief. First of all, I am pleased to bring you the news that Dr. James Edmund has been officially charged with ‘Conspiracy to Collaborate’ under the ‘ Inter species Terrorism Charter’.

He will no longer be a threat to the public, and I would like to praise our police force for their swift response to the information passed on, by my department, that has seen this alien collaborator brought to justice, before he could bring about any major aggression against the people of our country.

“However, we are still working to resolve the situation that has come about as a result of the doctor’s actions. Due to the previous government’s peace mongering attitude, our security forces were ill prepared for a lapse of this kind, and the escapees from the laboratory are still at large. We do not believe, at the moment, that the public are faced with a possible threat, but I will now give a description in the hope that the public shall not only be able to maintain vigilance, but be able to assist us in overcoming

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the alien’s act of aggression against them.”

“They should be on the look out for a girl, twelve or thirteen years old. She is pale, thin, with dark eyes and white blonde hair. She may be showing signs of illness. This is an act of alien subversion, that we believe is supposed to subdue her human nature, and force her to comply with alien control. As yet, for reasons of security, I am not able to reveal the powers of the girl, but we believe they were forced upon her by the aliens. Let me assure you that, whilst they may not be insignificant, they are no match for the power of true English endeavour, for English will, and for English strength. For my regime and for me.”

“That the aliens have chosen a small girl as their vehicle of mayhem shows the lengths that they will go to. A ruthlessness and brutality that must be matched. The military has been drafted in to assist our search, and we already have many leads that we believe will result in a resolution of this problem in the imminent future. I have faith in the people of this country, that we shall continue to demonstrate our strength and superiority over these aliens, and that we will prevail against the alien menace. Thank you, there will be no questions.” *

*

*

Pete, Marie and Charlotte had briefly rested in

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France, but they they could not stay there indefinitely. They knew that France would be the first place that Antony would look for them, being Marie’s native country. Marie did not feel comfortable staying in her family home after the fall out with Celine, and Charlotte’s health was not improving. They left that morning, heading to the port in an attempt to haggle their way onto a boat to travel south once more Approaching the port, Marie, Pete and Charlotte, mingled with the crowd. Men, women and children - even pets - were desperate for a passage further South, as it was clear that the security of the perceived disaster was weaker in the Southern hemisphere. Pete and Marie were frightened for Charlotte, as she was still weak, and ensured that she was ahead of them at all times.

In the midst of the mob, Charlotte was disorientated. She could not see above anyone, couldn’t tell how close Pete had got them to the front of the crowds. All she could hear was the harsh blow of a whistle. She followed it, knowing that she should not leave her brother and Marie, but she feeling drawn towards the sound. In the crowd, people seemed to give way to the energised child. Marie and Pete were able to follow Charlotte without much difficulty.

The noise which Charlotte heard came from a sturdy cargo ship, much larger than the small trawler boat they had sailed on to France. The ship looked gigan-

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tic in the dock. Its metal framework gleaming in the sun. It appeared old, but its size was reassuring when compared with the many passengers who wished to board its decks. A man, gaunt and bearded, stood out amongst his passengers and approached the child, who was joined by Marie and Pete.

“Sir? Sir, are you the captain of this ship?” Marie half expected the man to say no and point her in the direction of someone else. He seemed too old to be the captain of a ship this size.

“Yes I am, my dear woman.” He replied stoutly.

“May we sail with you?” Marie gasped. “We are travelling south and desperately need just a small place on a ship.”

“I am indeed travelling south, my lady, but my ship is full.”

Marie rested her hand on Charlotte’s shoulder with a sigh. “Never mind Lottie, we’ll find another boat.”

The man regarded her, her grace and composure in the chaos, her kindness. He leant forward, and nodded. “No need my lady. I can always make room.

Come aboard, my pilgrims, we set sail in five minutes.”

“Thank you sir, you are very kind.” Marie said, before they all made their way to the steadily growing queue at the ship’s side. At least on this boat they would they would have a little more space. *

*

*

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The Major was spending more and more time alone in the military compound. He was being isolated by his colleagues and by his work. Information was bypassing him, and orders were being carried out that he no longer knew about. He had begun to lose faith in his own influence and authority, his inner strength was wavering for the first time in years. He was ignored by one of his own men, someone he had brought through the ranks himself. An officer had asked the Major to expect a phone call from Antony, in Room 5. The Major asked the officer in question to bring him the swipe card for Room 5 personally, a small request that should have been granted with a blink of an eye. He was told he would have to collect it himself due to security issues. Someone whose talent he had nurtured and developed had ignored him like he wasn’t even there.

Could he even make any difference out here anymore? He thought about Dr. James in that claustrophobic pit. Thank God it wasn’t him. At least this way he still had a chance to help Charlotte.

He walked into Room 5, the electronic nerve centre of the compound. It was a huge circular room that was designed by his close friend Colonel Warren, a large, sarcastic Welshman with a killer wit. He had retired a few years ago. A brilliant mind for electronics, gadgets, navigation, the army was not the same with out him.

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Projected on the curved wall was a huge map, capable of zooming in with the touch of a hand to any part of the world. It showed details of terrain, weather patterns, the conditions of the roads, geomorphology and how tectonic plates shifted. It was work of a genius. The Major looked at the projection, from behind a control desk, considering the different possibilities of derailing Antony’s pursuit of Charlotte. He’d have to lie, something he had become quite good at in the last few months, but it was a skill he had never needed before. Something that was not a requirement of the job.

The phone rang and The Major’s heart sank, he saw Antony’s caller ID flashing up. At least it wasn’t a video call. Since the technicians had installed it in his office, he had waited with trepidation for Antony’s face to be projected 5ft by 5ft on the wall in front of him. The Major slowly picked up the phone and lifted it to his ear, he considered for a second trying to use the ‘hands free’ device but didn’t think it suited him. ‘’Secretary?” ‘’ Malcolm, I need your help! You seem to be the kind of guy who gets on with the Frogs. I’m stuck outside the bleeding docks, and the bloody Frogs won’t let me in!”

“What are you doing in France?”

“It doesn’t matter what I’m...Well, I may as well keep you up to speed. It’s the girl. I’m close to

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getting her back Malcolm. She’s here, in France, or at least she’s been here. I’m going to get her Malcolm!”

The Major rolled his eyes, he hated to hear the energy and drive in Antony’s voice, while he was losing the strength to fight, Tony only seemed to be buoyed by the stress of the chase. “ Erm, well actually Antony, there’s something...”

“Now look here, Malcolm, I don’t have time for one of your chats. I just need you to get on to some Frog General somewhere, one of your mates from back when we were all friends, something like that, anyway I need you to make them let me through.”

“No, you see it’s about...”

“No you look here Malcolm, you’ve been nothing but insubordinate to me. You should know that insubordination isn’t to be tolerated. You’re meant to be an army man and yet at every turn you seem to be ignoring the chain of command, defying me. Now sort this out now so you can go back to wasting your time in your office with your damn cigarettes and your damn whiskey!” ‘’I’ve been in contact with the French girl, Marie.”

Forming and delivering the lie came surprisingly naturally. ‘’They’re heading to South America...you need to head towards South America, I would have thought Southern Brazil, but possibly Uruguay or Argentina, I’m sorry I can’t be more accurate.” The Major was pleased with the expected silence from the other end.

The first time that Antony seemed to not know what

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to say. He wished now that he had been on a video call, so he could see this moment that he had put Antony off his always measured and confident stride.

The silence went on for a few seconds more. Then there was a beeping down the line.

“Sorry Major...call waiting, hold on one moment.”

Antony took a few deep breaths. The Major’s words hadn’t sunk in. He rubbed his eyes. He needed some sleep. A voice came down the line.

“Secretary?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“My name is Jenkins, I work for the RAD boys at the Cambridge lab. We’ve just got the computers back online since the accident. We’ve located her Sir. The signal from the aliens, we...

“South America, yes?”

“She’s on a ship headed for Africa. We hacked into the French shipping systems to confirm it. A cargo ship headed for South Africa. No doubt about it sir, checked and rechecked before we called you.”

“What! You’re certain? Thank you very much Jenkins.” Antony hung up. The Major’s heavy breathing once more began to come from the speaker of his phone.

Antony smiled. He had him. He knew it. He was going to make him pay, make him suffer before, when it was only collaboration. He had been talking with the French girl. Antony had been going to keep him out of jail because at least he had admitted it and

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tried to help. Now even that was revealed to be a lie.

He had tried to deceive him. Antony licked his lips.

Yes, he would make him suffer for that.

“Sorry Major. So to confirm, you say they’re heading for South America, and you’re sure of that?”

There was something different about Antony, the energy and drive was still there but he sounded satisfied and content this time round.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I am partly to blame for their escape. But I hope this makes up for it. I just don’t want to see them come to harm. Please. Go to South America, bring them back safe.”

Antony chuckled down the phone. As it travelled down the line the Major felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Thank you Major. Thank you. You see, I only wish that you showed this kind of initiative for me. It’s the first sign of promise you’ve shown, and to commemorate that I think we’ll leave Dr. James inn prison, a homage to your work. Lying.

Deceiving. Duplicity. That is the kind of behaviour that gets you places. But unfortunately for you, Major, it does not work against me. If you had been with me all this time I could show leniency. But I’m going to make the rest of your life a living hell. No retirement. No pension. I’m not even going to let you live the short amount you have left seeing the light of day. The authorities will be informed. There are many laws now concerning traitors to the country.

Especially when the aliens are involved. People can

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be made to practically disappear. Goodbye, Major.�

The Major was left with the receiver in his hand starring ahead at the huge electronic projection, he glanced at South America, to France, to England and back to South America. He had failed, how did Antony know he was lying. Maybe he hadn’t become such a good liar after all. It was a scant consolation.

He turned off the huge projection. With the press of a button it disappeared into itself with a fuzz. He took a seat. He had sealed his own fate.

Chapter 6

The evacuation of the Northern hemisphere was shambolic. Most countries had ceased external communication. Boats appeared at ports all over the southern hemisphere, only to be turned away.

Worries about the spread of disease and insufficient resources were the only thing that broke the radio silence. If a port was showing the refugees mercy, it quickly became jammed with Icebreakers, Ferries and Cargo ships. This slowed down the processing of refugees and caused desperate accidents. At Montevideo, the port became so crowded that it became a floating graveyard, the seagulls circling over the carnage and neglect. Overcrowded ships were left to drift, low on fuel and supplies, unprotected from dangerous weather conditions.

People were trapped on their cramped islands which floated aimlessly through the South Atlantic and South Pacific Oceans. Fevered appeals for rang through the shadows as people died in the darkness on board their saviour vessels, the humidity and hunger proving too much for them.

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*

*

*

The moon hung in the sky - a white sliver of luminescence directly above their heads. Both Marie and Pete had been staring up at it for a while, looking out across the sheet of midnight, relaxing for the first time since they left the bunker.

Pete had managed to use his last coins and his watch to haggle for some bread, brie and ham. Charlotte had disappeared to bed leaving Pete and Marie in the quietest corner they could find on deck. Slowly the other passengers had migrated inside, giving up on the cold or giving in to sleep. Pete and Marie remained, grateful for the long awaited peace. Their conversation had been slow and comfortable, rocking, like the boat, between past and future. Neither of them missed home, the monotony of England, and the sterility of the bunker. The boat was beautiful and free, sliding across the waves and slicing into the night.

“What will you and Lottie do when this is all over?” Marie asked quietly.

“Lottie and I? We’ll be in Africa. Travelling down, seeing everything we can. We’ve been planning it for years. I just want her to be free.”

“That sounds wonderful, you are lucky you have each other.” Marie spoke without sadness, but with a certain emptiness. Pete picked up on it, and was silent for a moment. He considered what he wanted

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to say. It seemed so perfect, too perfect. He had adored their time together, all three of them. Looking out into the beautiful stars, and shimmering waves Pete couldn’t think of a better opportunity.

“Why dont you come with us? I meanif you want to obviously. Lottie loves you and she’d love to have you around. It will be wonderful, and you should be there. If this ever ends.” Pete had turned to face her whilst he spoke these words. As he had been speaking she had slowly turned to look back at him.

She looked happy, but then he could not be sure. His body tensed as he awaited her reaction.

“I cannot impinge upon your future with Lottie.”

“But...But I would like to you to be in our future with us. Lottie would like it too.” He knew Lottie would love it, knew that she had gone to bed early in order to leave them alone.

Marie smiled to herself, and felt a warmth spreading through her chest. “When we are done, that is what we will do, I would love it as much as you.”

Her words were laden with meaning, Pete understood but kept quiet. They both slipped back into their separate reveries, comfortable in each other’s silence.

Both with smiles traced around their lips.

Moments past before they spoke again.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Marie spoke first, her head still facing the stars. Pete gulped in the sea air. Their intimacy had not surfaced since France and the connection between them this evening was just as pal-

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pable to them both. The silence lasted a few seconds longer before Marie spoke again. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

Pete gulped again, he knew this time she was not referring to Lottie’s company.

She did not look round, but remained staring into the sky. Pete’s chest swelled, and his pulse fluttered.

The chill in the air raised the hairs on his arms and he could feel the soft warmth of her arm next to his. It had been at least thirty seconds since she had spoken and Pete was fully aware that he needed to reply soon otherwise she may not realise that he felt the same way.

“I...I know what you mean.” That was not what he meant.

“Hmmm.” She looked downwards now, at the water.

He watched her head drop and his heart began to pummel his rib-cage. She was going to leave the deck, he knew it. He needed to prevent it, he couldnt let the moment end.

Pete spoke, “You’re beautiful.” For a second he thought he had made it worse. She did not move, she did not smile and she didn’t even thank him.

Finally she turned, and Pete could confirm he was right, she was most certainly ‘beautiful’. Her blue eyes glimmered in the moons reflection and her soft skin glowed iridescent like the waves. They both knew right then, that they could have everything.

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Lottie, happiness, safety and freedom.

Their lips touched, and their bodies quickly followed suit. He had not noticed she was shivering, but as his arms pulled her to him, her whole torso shook with the cold. Without ever separating Pete wriggled free of his coat and draped it over her shoulders. She thanked him by parting his lips with her tongue. The cold air whipping up and down Pete’s forearms did not bother him, the constant and unsteady motion of the boat did not bother him. There was only one thing that could break his happiness.

Charlotte’s howling scream.

They heard it faintly on the deck, the whisperings of pain and fear carried along the wind. Their bodies broke apart immediately, but their hands remained entwined. They made straight for their room. Pete’s did not think his heart could have beaten any faster, but as they approached the room and the screams were reaching their chilling crescendo he thought it would burst through his chest.

They reached the doorway with a gasp. Inside the room, Lottie cowered in the corner as a large figure dressed in an overcoat and no shoes advanced towards her holding something glinting on his hand.

Pete sprung immediately to the figure, grabbing both shoulders and pulling them back with all of his might.

The man landed with a dull, hard thud onto the floor of the room. Noah’s speech was garbled as he lay scrambling beneath them, his hands reaching out for

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something. Marie had already rushed over to Lottie, cradling the sobbing child to her chest. Pete’s face glowed poker red and he stormed over to Noah, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him onto his back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He screamed down at the snivelling man.

Noah did not look up at him, but seemed to be grabbing at something. About a foot away from Noah lay the top half of a broken beer bottle. Pete shouted in outrage and approached the bottle, with one strong stamp he crushed it underfoot.

“You disgusting...” Pete leaned down now, his hands wrapped around Noah’s collar he was shaking him hard. The veins on Noahs forehead pulsed.

“She’s a child..!”

Pete remained at his neck for a moment, but suddenly found himself being clumsily lifted off of Charlottes attacker. The screams and thumps had woken the rest of the boat and most of the men were stood in their pyjamas in the doorway. The giant man that had plucked Pete from Noah stood over both, watching Pete figure out what happened and Noah coughing the air out of his throbbing lungs.

This mountainous beast was John, a fisherman from Portsmouth. John hailed as leader not only for his unquantifiable size but also for his flaming temper.

“What is going on here?” John began. “It’s midnight. You woke me. Noah, what has this man

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done?” John’s voice was controlled, for now.

“I...I was just ...” Pete tried to interrupt but as he opened his mouth John’s hairy toes wedged into his ribs.

“Its the girl, I’ve told you all she’s connected! She’s with them, the aliens. She was screaming, another language. She’s not human!” The giant man’s words tumbled out, and he appeared genuinely frightened.

“I was trying to save us, she’s...she’s...” The man stepped back, his foot moved from the underside of Pete’s rib-cage, he was staring at Charlotte.

“She was probably having a nightmare!” Pete yelled back, “She’s just a child!”

“You all must listen! You are my friends and these strangers have come on here, bringing this...child...this alien with them.” Noah had started to raise himself up, pointing randomly into the audience as he spoke.

His voice was a coarse whisper, Noah was preaching to the crowd that had gathered. They all looked on, entranced. The room was becoming cramped now, the corridor outside of the room crammed with spectators, all bustling to get a better view of the preacher and the alien. The crowd heaved.

“Right!” John boomed back into the crowd, stomping back into them as they shuffled and cowered away from his route. The sea of onlookers parted as he moved, and he shouted constantly as he did. “No more pushing. Do you hear me? One more push from any of you and I will toss you overboard. You

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know I do not bluff.” The crowd had diluted and so he moved back into the room. “Now Noah, I think we need to sort this mess out, dont you? Lets go up on deck where theres more room.”

Pete knew what that meant. If necessary someone was going overboard. As large fingers fastened round his neck, Petes body went limp with fear.

Jostled and bumped up two flights of stairs, Pete’s dragging body finally reached the cool salty air of the deck. The crowd had grown now, the women and children had joined their fathers and husbands to watch. John slammed Pete down onto the slats on the deck. Pete’s chest heaved with exhaustion, and he stared up to the stars. Noah stood over him, staring down. On the edges of his vision Pete could sense the crowd parting and a hushed interest building up.

The mob parted fully, and Marie and Charlotte stumbled into the clearing. Marie was still gripping tight onto Charlotte, her face scared but fierce. Charlotte, huddled into Marie’s chest looked frightened, though Pete knew his sister would be safe from attack.

John stepped forward towards Marie and Lottie, Pete’s heart picked up speed. “So this is the child, Noah?” His voice remained controlled.

“Yes, yes its her. I heard her, screaming...”

“Children scream, Noah. John replied tersely. Let me look at her.” He removed his inhumanly large hands from his pocket and swatted Noah from his

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way. Marie’s grip upon Charlotte tightened, and her eyes ignited a warning so severe that John stopped, but only for a second. “Fiery.” He said, raising his eyebrows.

Marie’s scowl did not move, even as the massive hand reached down closer and closer to Charlotte.

“You leave her alone!” Her voice was high and authoritative, but not enough to perturb John.

“Someone get that woman out of the way!” Noah shouted diving hungrily to her side. He grabbed at her feverishly, trying to pry her arms from Lottie.

His hands jabbed and scraped at the pair, pawing at Marie like an untamed animal. Marie resisted and yelped as his hands wiped up and down her, he touched her face and shoulders and finally for a moment she felt his clamping fingers grip around her breast. This time she screamed, releasing Charlotte and reaching out her hand to slap his face. Before she could complete her blow to his slavering jaw, his whole body was knocked sideways onto the deck.

Pete’s tackle had sent Noah sprawling once more.

Noah recovered his breath quickly, “You see, these people are animals! Brutal wild animals. I am an old man, and yet they beat me!” He panted.

Pete scrambled towards Marie who was stared at him, awe-struck. She reached out her hand.

Noah’s rasping voice reached an inhuman pitch as he watched them embrace. “We must not let these people stay, they are a risk! An abomination! The

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child, the child of the devil is among us and we are meant to let her? We must stand against them, united Humans!” The crowd stirred and Noah moved over to Charlotte “This child, watch her. She stays quiet and then she screams, she has not the brain of a twelve year old...”

The crowds attention shifted instantly to Charlotte. Forty pairs of eyes locked on her face. Instinctively the fingers on her left hand reached for her right forearm, the tapping was fast and complicated, it had a fast but steady rhythm and it was clear this was not just a nervous twitch.

“Watch her ladies and gentlemen, she is not one of us! God only knows what she is doing. Telling her alien family to kill us? Send down more aliens? For all we know soon this ship will be filled with fleshhungry, brain-starved aliens - We must act!”

The crowd had slowly become infused with his words, reacting to each of his rallying cries. Lead

by John, the crowd let out a short but load cheer of approval.

Pete looked around him. The crowd was becoming energetic, more bustling and shoving. The clearing around the three of them had reduced in size and Noah became enveloped within the crowd, hissing the words “Abomination!...Alien!..Fight!” Marie let go of Pete, and he knew she was reaching for Charlotte, his heart swelled with gratitude and love. Hands reached down now, amid the cries and shouts of revolution

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from the crowd and Pete was lifted, away from Marie, away from Charlotte.

The crowd seized Marie and she was forced away from the others. Trying to resist the pull from the mob, and fight against the impossibly strong hands all around her, she ended up face to face with Noah.

She first noticed his smell, a foetid breath rank with ale. And then secondly she noticed the sudden tight grip around both of her wrists. She turned to face him. His eyes were wide with excitement, insanity.

“I can save you Marie.” He said quietly, his face so close to hers that she alone could hear him. “You come with me, we wont hurt you. Leave them, come with me. I can save you, save your soul. They will die but you can live, with me.”

With her hands locked down at her sides, the only action she could take was to spit at him. And she did. A spray of hate misted over his face. He let go of her wrists immediately and brought his hands up to her neck. Murder in his eyes. Marie screamed as loud as she could. He was pulled away, his face disappearing back into the crowd as the mob moved more and more. Marie battled now, knowing she had escaped her first look at death and managed to force her way through the mob to reach Charlotte, who was being raised by the mob above their heads. The look on her face was panicked. She knew these people, she didnt understand how they could be acting like this.

If only they would let Pete explain, everything would

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be alright. She looked desperately around for him, spotting him a few feet away from her being swallowed by the limbs of the raging group. Grasping hold of Charlotte’s hand, Marie managed to pull her away, underneath the crowd. They managed to regroup as parts of the crowd turned against each other in fear.

“Get her overboard, we dont want her on this ship, who knows what trouble she’ll bring”.

“She’s just a little girl, she’s no harm to any of you!” Marie tied to reason.

“She will bring this ship down around us! You will all drown! How can you let that happen!?” Noahs rasping, voice shouted high above the other voices.

The crowd moved suddenly to the edge of the deck as fights broke out. The man who had tried to calm the crowd earlier screamed as he was thrown overboard. Pete stood in front of the girls trying to protect them from the manic crowd who were now throwing bottles and anything else they could get their hands on. Marie looked down to her feet which had hit something hard, she realised they had been backed against a small locker.

“Quick Charlotte, get inside!” Marie shouted over her shoulder to Lottie.

Charlotte pulled out some life jackets which were stored inside, and beneath those she found a green metallic box marked “FLARES”. Wrenching the box open she grabbed out a flare and threw it to Pete.

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Pete let it off immediately. An explosive bang could be heard followed by the dispersal of a massive puff of red smoke, the flare screamed into the sky in a flash of red and orange light. The crowd backed away from the small locker looking confused, for the first time since the mutiny broke out. The crowd went deadly silent. Pete took advantage of the opportunity to stand on top of the locker. In the silence, Charlotte moved over to Marie and wrapped her arms around her waist.

Marie stroked her hair protectively “Its going to be okay, Lottie.” She pushed her into the cupboard.

Youll be safe here! Pete addressed the crowd.

“Now, you want us of the boat, we’ll get off the boat” Pete shouted out to them. “Look, we’ll take the lifeboat, youll never see us again”. He pointed over the side of the boat.

A voice rose from the crowd.

“No! The tide is flat. We’ll be side to side for hours.” They all knew it was Noah. “You’ve all seen her evil powers!” He pointed to the sky where the dying red light from the flare was hanging in the sky. “...how safe will any of us be at 50 metres from her?” the crowd began grumbling now, Pete could sense they were becoming angry again.

“It was a flare you lunatic!”

“She is the Devil’s cohort, we have all seen it!”

Noah was unrelenting. The crowd, absorbed by his theatricality, descended to mayhem once more. Fights

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broke out in every corner of the boat, hands flailing, mostly in the direction of the cupboard. John, whose head rose above the crowd, reached out to her and managed to grab the sleeve of Marie’s jumper. Marie did not see Noah behind him. She had become separated from Pete. They were stranded at the other side of the deck. And then the crowd went silent as the screaming began. She was screaming over and over. The crowd stopped, looking over to the source.

Marie looked down, half of a wine bottle protruding from her stomach. Noah was standing over her, eyes wide. All he could do was gaze petrified at his reddened, shaking hand. The crowd fell silent and parted to avoid dirtying themselves with Marie’s blood. She did not ask for help. She saw the fear and disgust in their eyes.

Blood flowed freely down onto the deck, pooling around her feet. Her helpless gaze met Pete’s across the deck. Their eyes locked in a shared sorrow. It felt like there was an ocean between them. She felt her blood draining from her veins. A tear trickled down her pale cheek. This was good bye. She tried to mouth the words I love y... to Pete.

But her body fell to the deck, the last remnants of her life draining away. Pete rushed to her side but it was too late. She was gone.He spoke the words he hoped she knew “I love you too Marie.”

He sank his face into her dark hair. He could not breathe. His airways felt as if they had been taken

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over by another creature. His heart pounded as if it might rip through his chest at any moment. He heard, dimly, the cupboard door opening, felt Charlotte’s arms reach around his shoulders, her sobs mingle with his own. Her heartbeat matching his, beat for beat. Suddenly there were unsympathetic arms grabbing at them, Pete forced himself to let go of Marie’s lifeless body and hold Charlotte close to his chest as the mob dragged them towards the hull of the boat. They had no more fight left in them. All they had left of Marie was the blood that stained their clothes. worried *

*

*

“I can’t believe she’s really gone.” Charlotte said, curled up in Pete’s lap - hours later.

Around them, the ship hummed and throbbed.

They had been imprisoned, by the mob that had killed Marie deep in the bowels of the freighter. It was dark and damp, the air foetid. They had been here for hours, and neither of them had spoken a word till now. From the far corner, a dull red bulb cast a faint glow across the room. Charlotte could make out some objects. There was a crate with a hammer on top and a large, full sack.

Pete made no response. He just sat against the wall, arms crossed, tapping his finger slowly on his

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arm, lost in thought.

“Can you stop that, please? It’s so loud.” Charlotte could barely shift her gaze from the pile of objects in the corner of the room. There was still no response from Pete. “It’s hurting my head.”

It was not like him to ignore her when she asked him something. She turned to him, lifting her head from his lap. “Pete?”.

She saw his catatonic state and couldn’t help feeling that something fundamentally wrong with him.

Struggling to her feet, she looked down at her brother, and saw his fixed, pained expression.

“What’s wrong Pete? Please tell me.”

“Something’s wrong Lottie,” he murmured quietly, “I don’t feel right.”

She watched him quietly, moving to sit on the crate with the hammer next to her. Minutes passed.

Suddenly from somewhere near them the ship boomed with a noise, hollow and loud, followed by a nearer and more violent clang directly behind her head. Charlotte, jumping to her feet, turned to see the hammer stuck into the metal of the wall, as if it has been flung by some unseen force.

“What was that?” She shrieked, unable to keep the fear from her voice.

“I don’t know.” Said Pete, who had moved to stand beside her. “It was you wasn’t it?”

Lottie shook her head. “That wasn’t me! Believe me, I’d know.”

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“Oh I don’t know Lotts, just leave it.” Pete returned to the floor, exhausted and uncaring. All of his emotions were fixated on the loss of Marie - a friend, far more than just a friend.

But Charlotte couldn’t leave it, something unusual had happened, and for once she could be certain that it wasn’t her fault. Her mind was buzzing with questions, and she had to know the answers.

“Pete?”

He ignored her.

“Pete please?” He turned to look at her. “What day will my birthday be on next year?”

“Tuesday” Pete answered unthinkingly. “Why would you care about that?” he was staring at the wall, barely blinking “I just wondered - I’ll be 5,000 days old...”

“No you won’t, you’ll be 4,748.”

“I knew it!” Charlotte leapt to her feet. “Something’s happening to you! You’re like me.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous Lottie.”

“You are - you moved the hammer and now you’re doing Maths! You never do Maths!” She paced the floor, fingers itching at her arm in excitement.

“It’s not proper maths, it’s obvious.”

“Really? Is 2,111 prime?

“Yeah-” Pete hesitated.

“Is 496 perfect?”

“What?”

“Sorry - if you take all the numbers that divide

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into 496 and add them together do you get 496?”

“It’s...” Pete’s eyes had opened very wide “It is.... and the next one is 8,128, then 33,550,336 - oh Lottie I’ve caught maths from you!”

“I knew it!” Charlotte shouted in delight. She continued pacing, her mind whirring and her hand twitching repeatedly at her arm.

“But don’t get carried away - there’s no way we’re going to be able to escape!” Pete said, watching her frantic movement.

She stopped. “What?”

“You said we could use this to get out of here that’s never going to work.”

“I didn’t say that.” Lottie said, her eyes wide and staring.

“Yes you did.”

“No, I mean I didn’t SAY that. I was thinking it.

How did you know?”

Her hand scratched at her elbow. “I don’t know.

I don’t know. Look, stop asking me will you?” Pete snapped, before freezing.

“I only asked once.” Lottie said, clearly irked.

But light had dawned on Pete. “No you didn’t.

You kept asking me. You were writing it on your arm.”

“What?”

“That tapping and scratching you do on your arm.

It’s a language. You’re speaking to me!” Pete backed up against the wall, his hands shaking. “What...what’s

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happening to me Lottie?” *

*

*

The Major strode down the prison corridor, the Custody Sergeant behind him. The world was a curious place, a small place. Of all the places to run into his old driver? Of all the times. They’d been younger, obviously. Neither had aged particularly well. The Major had been a Lieutenant, rising rapidly through the ranks. Tom had been his advisor, his therapist, even his friend. He’d tried to keep him with him, but Tom had his own career to consider. ‘’I see you haven’t lost your hair.” He looked at the guard’s regulation buzz cut, running his hand over his own bare head.

“They say it’s stress that does that to you.” The guard chuckled, “There’s not much to be worried about down here, Malcolm. The days are easy, bloody civilian work, isn’t it? I do my shifts, I go home.”

The guard span his set of keys in a relaxed, habitual manner. “They sent me down here after I tried to make a name for myself. The new breed aren’t asking for individualism, for rational thought. I tried making a difference. They said I was being insubordinate, not following orders correctly. I went for promotion, didn’t get it and found out I’d been punished, guess they thought Id be less of a nuisance down here.”

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They stopped walking.

The guard looked around at the cells, most of them empty, its guests either moved into prison, or released. He looked at Malcolm, and thought about how he had made it as far as he did, while he was stuck in this place. He wondered which of them had it better off.

“Do you shine that thing or what?”

The Major was momentarily confused before realising he was talking about his bald head. He laughed it off, rubbing his head but knew that it was his nerves that were causing him to sweat. He took a crisply folded white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it.

“Thanks for letting me in Tom, I know this might leave you in the brown stuff.”

“I don’t give a fuck anymore Malcolm. I’d rather get a severance payment rather than stay down here being paid to do nothing. It’s easy work but boring as hell. Nothing like the thrill of the old days. Fading away, that’s what we’re doing here Malc.” He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, “Your chap’s just down there.” The guard handed the Major the keys, “All yours.” He patted the Major on the back, who in turn took a deep breath and approached the Doctor’s cell, letting the guard’s foul language go, just this once. The keys shook in his hands. He had never been this nervous, but for the first time in a long time he knew what he had done was wrong. He

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had taken a man’s rights away, his life. He did not even know what had happened to his own daughter.

He turned the corner to see Edmund on the end of his bed, looking ready, like he had been waiting for him.

“Major Roth.” He stood up, but did not move towards the front of the cell. Dr. James no longer cared about professionalism, as it no longer mattered.

“Dr James.” He looked thinner; more aged.

“Have you found Charlotte? Is she safe?” Those were words the Major did not want to hear. He cared about Charlotte, and that was why he was here, he had known what it was like to be a father, a father who has had his daughter taken away from him.

However different the pair were, they would always have that in common.

“She is fine, Doctor. She should be completely safe by now.” He placed the heavy key into the lock of the cell, turned it sharply and slid the door open.

“Why am I in here Major? Antony can’t believe that I had anything to do with Charlotte’s disappearance. Even if I wanted to get her out of there, why would I have stayed behind myself?”

“I’m afraid he does, Doctor, and I am responsible for that.” The Major could not hold it in. “I’m sorry.”

“What? But, why? Do you know where my daughter is? Did you kidnap her, did you take her for Antony? I knew I couldn’t trust you!” The Doctor

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took a step back. His body shook with rage. He was doing everything in his power to keep it inside him. He had never hit anyone, he did not believe in violence, but in this moment he wanted to tear the Major limb from limb.

The Major walked closer to Dr. James, willing to accept any blow to his body, he raised his huge hands, he seemed to have become bigger again, more in control with the release of his internal struggle.

“Just sit down, Doctor, and let me explain.” He stood in front of him, “If you want to hit me, then do it now and get it over with. I need your full attention for this.”

The Doctor stood tall, for a moment, looking at the Major and realising he was far older than he had ever noticed before. “What’s the point, it doesn’t bring Charlotte to me, or get me out of here.” He sat down.

The Major walked back, noticing the claustrophobic size of the cell. He circled the Doctor, who never took his eyes off him, and tried to decide how to explain himself. “One thing that we will both agree on, is that Charlotte had to be removed from that laboratory. The things...” He stopped walking and turned to face Dr. James, “the things that we made you do to her, to your own daughter, they couldn’t continue. Antony was insistent upon using her for the benefit of the country, which is right. Antony took it far too seriously, which I hadn’t anticipated.

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You must understand, Doctor, I’ve done my best not to send men to war, knowing that they will die, but it is a necessary evil that must be faced. The world is not clean of fault, not yet, and never will be while men like Antony are around.” He sat down on the bed next to him, both of them staring directly at the wall opposite.

“Is my daughter alive, Major? Is Marie with her?”

“Yes she is. I blamed you for their escape. I manoeuvred it; I planned it, but I had to blame you, Edmund. That’s why you’re in here. I’m sorry.”

“Why blame me, you should be in here! Not me.”

The Major took a seat on the end of the bed and the Doctor shot up, he could not fathom the Major’s selfishness. His disregard for the his life, for his freedom. The Major looked down at the floor. It was Edmund’s turn to pace the cell.

“Get me out of here now then.”

“You need to be patient.”

“Patient! You’ve got no idea what it’s like in here.

You’re a coward!’

“Look! You’re no use out there! I can help your daughter, you can’t! Not anymore!” The Major erupted, jumping up from the bed. He had lost control, his own guilt had made him defensive, he wished that the sole reason for his betrayal was Charlotte’s safety, and the impact he could have on it in the future but that was a lie. He thought first about his reputation, about his bloody legacy. It was selfish.

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He could not bring himself to tell Dr. James this, though, maybe he was not the man he had thought he was. Maybe he was a coward. “I can help your daughter, and hopefully, you, in the future, please understand me.” Malcolm was desperate for forgiveness. He had sought approval in the past but not like this, he had earned it before.

“Do you promise you’ll keep her safe?”

“Yes. That, I give you my word on.” He would do his utmost, but he surprised himself he had agreed to a promise. The Major offered his hand to Edmund, who accepted, holding on to it longer that the Major had expected. He tried to pull away but he would not let go, staring into the Major’s eyes one last time.

The Major broke free from Edmund’s grip, and the Doctor noticed a glimpse of despair in the Major’s eyes. He slid the door back into its locked position, took one last glance before turning on his foot and marching off to the exit.

The Doctor sat down on his bed, he considered how he may have just experienced his last contact, his last piece of information about his family, his legacy. Was this the sacrifice he was resigned to make? A man of science is not a religious man, but his fate was at the hands of the gods. He began to accept that this was the price he must pay for both his exploitation of his daughter, and for the freedom of Charlotte. He lay down on the bed, and closed his eyes.

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*

*

*

The ship crept slowly into the port. There was only space enough for only one more ship to dock and it was a tight squeeze. People were everywhere, swarming and faceless in the blistering heat. They were loading and unloading cargo onto the many ships.

Ants could not have looked so dedicated to these mundane tasks. They begged and haggled for a right of passage, degrading but necessary. The whole place was heaving, eventually the ship was anchored almost securely in the barely sufficient space in the dock.

Onboard, in a rare state of religious confusion, Noah had managed to calm his passengers down.

They had stopped off in Gabon to stock up on resources, as so many bottles and barrels had been shattered or splintered in the riot. Lying on the equator, the country was boiling hot. Noah knew they couldn’t stop here for long. The immense heat made his conscience feel even more stuffy and confused. He had accidentally killed a woman in an attempt to kill the strange child. A woman that he once perceived to be as holy as the Virgin Mary herself. Even if this child was an un-holy sign from the alien creatures, did not Jesus tend to all beings as equals?

These invasive doubts seemed strange to Noah, who simply knew that he had to attempt the deed at the time. But now a woman was dead and her friends lay imprisoned in the hull. “Thou shalt not

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kill”. Noah bumbled the words with a twisted face and statuesque frame, eyes wide, and black as his thoughts. Could the Lord forgive him for his sins?

Or was this it. Was this, the searing heat of Gabon, merely a taste of the fire to come? *

*

*

Lottie paced the room, her eyes bright and energetic.

“We have to get out of here.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Well obviously...”

“No, I mean this boat, all this metal is stopping us.” She said, exasperated Pete struggled to his feet. “From what?”

“From talking to them.”

Pete frowned. “But when they talk to you it makes you sick Lotts.”

“It did, but the further south we’ve come the better I’ve got. And now you’re involved...Oh Pete don’t you see we have to go talk to them. We need to know what they’re trying to say.” She looked at him, her eyes pleading at him to understand.

He nodded. “Right, so we have a locked door. You can get out of locked doors, can’t you Lottie?”

She hesitated, her brow furrowed. “Well...”

“What?”

“The thing is that last time, I was scared.” Her uncertainty shocked him most.

“So?”

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She shrugged. “Well I’m just not scared now. And neither are you.”

Pete opened his mouth to speak, but realised that she was right. “No, I guess not. I guess the worst has already happened.” She nodded, it felt hopeless.

“So what do we do?”

She looked at him as if to say ‘how should I know?’.

She had to think, there had to be a solution. Her eye was caught by the hammer still sticking out of the wall. She grinned.”Why didn’t I think of it first?”

“What?” Pete’s voice was tinged with fear, he knew her too well.

Walking over to the wall, Charlotte wrenched the hammer out of it. It was pretty hefty. She was sure that it would do the trick. She walked towards Pete, who backed into a corner. “Don’t look at me like that! This is going to work.”

He wasn’t reassured. “Charlotte...” He tried to sound authoritative, it didn’t work. “You’re never going to...ow!”

She hit him, surprisingly hard, on the upper arm.

“That hurt!” He shouted.

Charlotte looked disappointed. “Why didn’t it work?”

“Because I didn’t think you’re actually do it!” Pete yelled, rubbing his arm angrily.

“Well now you know I will!” Charlotte replied, taking her upward swing.

Terrified, Pete backed away. “Don’t do it don’t do

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it don’t...” She struck out.

Instantly the hammer was repelled, flung back into the wall were it stuck neatly, next to the imprint of where it had stuck before.

“Oooh.”

“I told you.” Charlotte said, smiling smugly.

Pete nodded, excited. “Alright!” He moved towards the door. “Pick up the hammer again, and I’ll go and stand by the door. Ready?”

Charlotte grinned, running to grab the hammer.

“Yeah.” Pete stood by the door, as Charlotte headed towards him.

“Hang on, is this still gonna be scary?” He asked.

“Dunno...” She said, the hammer dropping slightly.

“Maybe not...Ah well!” She swung again.

The hammer flew out of her hand, and the door sprang open.

“Fantastic! Let’s get to the deck.” Pete beamed, grabbing her hand.

Pete and Charlotte moved through tiny corridors in the bowels of the ship. It would not be long before their presence outside the brig was noticed.

The corridors seemed to go on forever. Nothing but blind fear of their pursuers was guiding them towards the main deck. They had to get to the top if they stood any chance of escape. They turned a corner, only to be confronted by John standing directly in front of them. He wielded a large piece of piping.

“Back to the brig, kids.” His voice boomed out

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and filled the echoey corridor. A sadistic grin slowly spread across his face. Pete stepped towards him.

“No.” He said, making John’s grin drop.

“Well, you asked for it.” With all his might the brute swung the pipe at Pete’s head, only for it to bounce harmlessly off. In the following brief moment of confusion, Pete grabbed his sister’s hand and they ran past the thuggish man, leaving him with yelling for others to control the chase.

They raced through the warren of identical corridors. A newly-formed mob soon gave chase. Pete and Charlotte reached the stairs. Another crowd had formed at the top of them. They stayed in the doorway, engulfed by people accusing them of witchcraft, fearful of what they could do. As one, the crowd pounded continuously on the forcefield’s outer layer, trying desperately to break in to satisfy their bloodlust. Pete and Charlotte found themselves trying to stay calm in a storm of hatred. Pete again took Charlotte’s hand and started leading her through the crowd, the crowd parted to let them through, forced out of the way by the intrusion of the mental shield.

The two of them slowly started to struggle breathlessly up the stairs and out of the depths of the ship.

They made their way along the walkway along the side of the ship, past the cabin port holes. So many hate-filled eyes tracked their movements. Hands, fists and makeshift weapons all the while were pounding on the force field, trying to break through. Pete lead

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Charlotte by the hand towards another set of stairs, shorter but steeper than the last. Together, they slowly struggled up them, the strain of their journey starting to show. They eventually managed to heave themselves towards the top. and Charlotte are attack the petrified Pete and Charlotte. He instantly released the soldiers he had for protection, like a pack of dogs, upon the crowd. They rounded up the people, like sheep, and quickly restored order to the deck. He prepared himself for the possibility of making first contact with the aliens. *

*

*

Antony stood at the prow of the army boat as it pulled alongside the ship that had grown steadily from a speck on the horizon to the promise of a conclusion to the unsavoury course of events that it now was.

A flare had been seen going up from this vessel earlier and he became convinced that this was evidence of the subject and its affiliates and followed the ship to the busy port of Gabon.

With a shout to Jones, ever-present on Antony’s right, a collection of aides and advisors were summoned around him. They were all wearing suits.

Some had the appearance of hired muscle, unfamiliar at being forced into formal dress unless they were

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standing outside the doors of a nightclub. Together they all strode towards down the gangway and onto the dock. The aides struggled to keep up with Antony.

He turned and barked, “Jones, where is air support? I want them in the air NOW. Not five minutes.

Not ten minutes. I want them in the air NOW.” Jones nodded and started talking back into the mobile phone that had become like an extra appendage growing over his ear. Antony turned his attention to one of his other advisors. “Is the captain aware we are coming aboard?” The poor sycophant looked petrified, but managed to eventually spit out a stammering confirmation. “Good!. You there.” Antony pointed to another worried man following in his wake over his shoulder. “The subjects are still on board?”.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do we know what the situation on deck is yet?”

“I... I don’t know, sir.”

“You don’t know?”

“No sir.”

“Well what the hell am I paying you for then? Get out of my sight!”

“Sir?” “NOW!” “It’s been a pleasure, sir.”

The advisor obediently performed a perfect u-turn without breaking step and headed straight back towards the boat. Antony and the rest of his entourage gathered at the dock. Antony looked up at the side

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of the ship impatiently. He screwed up his face at the scratched worn red paint that spelt out ‘Mary’ in large letters on the side of the ship. There was activity on deck. Antony saw a few crew members struggling with a gangplank. “Come on, come on. At least we run things on bloody time back in England.

Jones! Why are we waiting?”

Jones put the mobile phone away. “I’m not sure, sir. But it isn’t looking likely that we will get the armed support you wanted.”

“What? Why?” “Simply put, sir, we’re just too far away from... anywhere...”

“This is why I don’t leave England. I’ll sort this mess out myself. As usual.”

“Sir, you are aware of the reports of rioting and violence on board?”

“Yes, Jones, I am aware, thank you very bloody much. But if the subjects are up there I need to...And who the hell is that?” Antony nodded towards a jeep that was approaching and pulling up, full of heavilyarmed soldiers. Amongst them a distinguished-looking man in a well-tailored suit.

“Uhm, I believe it’s the local representative for Alien relations, sir.”

Antony pointed at an advisor. “You. Get rid of him. The subjects are English, dammit. They’re going to deal with the English representative.” The advisor ran off to the jeep. Antony yelled after him

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“Tell him if we wants something to do then get some troops down here. Get them to set up a perimeter here.” He pointed at his feet. The advisor gave a wave of acknowledgement as he continued his run towards the approaching vehicle.

The boarding plank was finally lowered towards him. Antony shook his head. “About bloody time.”

500- Pete and Charlotte Dialogue with Aliens *

*

*

Pete and Charlotte arrived on the deck and out into the blinding afternoon sun. As they blinked their eyes in the sudden brightness, they could see some commotion off to the side of the ship, the crowd was distracted. Antony the wretched politician from back in England appeared to be shouting at the crowd, his lackeys and a handful of local soldiers hurriedly trying to control the rioting passengers. Another boat had pulled alongside them, pinning them up against the dock.

Neither Pete nor Charlotte were able to focus, both of them were becoming increasingly aware of a strange sensation. The crowd, on deck, parted and Antony McCrea advanced towards them. His quick stride was bringing him quickly bearing down upon them.

There was a manic look to him, eyes flashing brightly, glinting in the sun, his lips pulled back baring white teeth. They both recoiled a moment, then Pete felt

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Charlotte’s hand slip into his. He grasped it firmly.

Antony was a few feet away, when he stopped suddenly. He rubbed his forehead, a look of confusion spreading through his features. He placed his hands out in front of him, feeling the invisible barrier. He reformed his face into a smile. Not friendly. It was strained, forced.

“Kids, I’m Antony McCrea, Secretary of State for the Home Department and Alien Affairs. I’m here to help.” They just look at his outstretched hand. He inched it towards them, hitting up against the force field. They saw the brief, reactionary flash of anger coming to the eyes and a twitch to his mouth. They remained unmoved despite his advances. The strange sensation they felt was becoming more pronounced and noticeable all the while. “I need you to tell me what is going on.”

“We don’t know,” came Pete’s concise answer.

Pete and Charlotte looked at each other, then the brilliant blue sky above them. They could both feel that something was wrong. Somehow, everything going on outside their bubble took on a sense of insignificance. The sounds of the shouting and the threats of horrific violence that had plagued them all through their movements from the brig seemed to fall away. The crowd were clearly still livid and baying for blood, but suddenly they didn’t seem nearly as close or as immediate a threat.

There was an eerie sense of calm in the force field,

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as though the awareness that nothing could touch them had finally taken hold. They had to concentrate to maintain a healthy fear, even paranoia, about the events around them to keep the force field up. As long as they did not forget themselves they would be fine.

Charlotte squirmed in discomfort, provoking Pete to look at her.

“What is it?”

She shrugged. “It’s like pins and needles all over.”

“You too? I thought I was just nervous.” He grinned.

Automatically, Charlotte’s hand started tapping on her arm.

“I’m not afraid Lottie.” Pete said, squeezing her shoulder.

“That wasn’t me.” She said, watching her fingers tapping against her arm. “That was them.”

Don’t be afraid... We’re coming...

“No way...” Despite his new understanding of an alien language and their odd intonation, Pete was still at a loss for words.

They looked upwards. That’s now where the ringing in their ears seems to be coming from. Slowly, and at a dizzying altitude, an alien saucer moved across the sun, plunging the ship into the shadowy darkness of an eclipse.

Pete was first to look away. He spotted Charlotte’s arm and fingers moving on their own again.

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Pete and Charlotte read the movements, completely captivated by their speed and fluidity.

Diagnostics - Condewit complete... Triangulashun suksessful... Altitude above see level optional for communicaton... Resending...

Pete frowned. “What do they mean...conduit?”

Charlotte looks at him. “I think they mean us.”

NorthSouth unified... Don’t be afrayd... We’re coming... We recwire your assistanse... Respond...

NorthSouth unified... Don’t be afrayd... We’re coming... We recwire your assistanse... Respond...

NorthSouth unified... Don’t be afrayd... We’re coming... We recwire your assistanse... Respond...

“NorthSouth?” Pete queried aloud.

“How do we respond?” Charlotte shrugged.

Pete paused for what seemed like an eternity, thinking. “It hurt your head when I was tapping my finger in the brig, right?”

Charlotte nodded her head.

“Let me try something.” Pete said, cautiously taking his own hand and slowly tapping what he now instinctively knew to tap on his arm. “We are here.

Can you hear us?”

They waited, and suddenly Charlotte’s own fingers began moving.

Greetings. We recwire your assistanse...

Pete looked at his sister, a grin of realisation and excitement of discovery spreading across his face. I send. You receive.

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Charlotte returned the smile. What are you waiting for?

He tapped on his arm. “How can we help?”

They waited again.

We will now attempt explicashun...

Charlotte’s arms and fingers twitched and moved, spelling out the message loud and clear. She didn’t show any signs of fatigue, but her voice took on a strangely fractured, stumbling tone as she channelled the alien’s message and read it aloud to everyone on the boat. She was clearly in control.

The mob’s lust for violence had subsided into silent and anxious curiosity since the siblings’ mysterious display began.

We cayme to your home . Hunted and chaysed over the galaxy... There was a coo on our home. Too sydes. Genosyde. Purj... We were forced out...

“Inter-bloody-galactic, asylum seekers.” Antony couldn’t help but mutter to himself.

Many of us did not mayke it... Some passed close to your home. We spotted synes of life. Light glows and heat sygnichure. Fallowt from nuclear tests and reacktors. Radiashun... Your home intent on nuclear war. The radiashun would hyde us from our terminashon-intent pursuers forever, thanks to volume of nuclear weapons... But it seemed our arrival forced you retreating from mutually-assured destruktshon...

With this, a murmer rippled through the crowd

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as everyone remembered a time that was even more tense. A second Cold War, some had said. Everyone was only forced to back down because of the brief wave of global fear as one of the alien ships crashed in Portugal. Antony’s hand was shaking. He did not try to stop it, his eyes were focussed on Pete and Charlotte. His thoughts were constantly whirring away, attempting to process what this all meant for him, for England.

We do not understand your home. We kept our distance... Watched and wayted, afrayd of the barabarick population of your home. You sent masheens up in The sky... We knew you to be hostile. We are not aggressors but we WILL defend our-selves... We expect clarIty and understandings on this...

Antony’s deep concentration was briefly snapped by the talk of aggression. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He just managed to hold his tongue before one of his rehearsed diatribes rolled out. His hands clenched and unclenched with the expended effort of self-control.

We tryed contact. kould not identify a Single leader of men, your polytics fractured and fickle... We broadcast our first-contact signal for a decade now... First attempt was most successful, signal briefly reached a number of people around your home. But return signals soon dwyndled and diappeared... We are eternally apolygetic for the accidental dystructshun of potenshal conduwyts.

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Charlotte turned to Pete, “Do you think that Mum was...?”. She let the idea hang in the air, met only by a slow, serious nod from Pete as he gazed at he the sky.

We constantly and tirelessly reconfigured our broadcast signal... Unifyed signal was too strong for home’s dwellers’ minds, we deemed it necessary to split sendrecieve... We moved ships and reconfigured so Northern hemmysphere recieved, South sent. This recwired matching send-recieve conduits...

Pete and Charlotte exchange a glance of realisation.

Also, sadly, rewired relocashun to point of NorthSouth unity...

“Point of North-South unity?” Charlotte enquired quietly to Pete.

“Equator, I guess...” Pete was quite happy to let his words trail off as the ailens showed no signs of stopping to let their words sink in.

Send-recieve signal strengths would here be balanced to allow accurate triangluashon to their posishon as well as minimal interference created by imbalanced signal... We again are eternally apolygetic for inconveeniyence on such a relocayshon... Too for our attempts to reposishon closer to home in Northern hemesphere to enhance our signal strength for aiding locayting the source of recieving conduit’s ping signal, and any unforseen negative syde-effects from this...

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Charlotte and Pete shared an unimpressed look.

This was clearly all the apology they will get for everything that had happened. The visitors clearly didn’t know much about Earth, its politics and customs. Antony had finished his mental calculations.

He had run through possibilities. Possible outcomes, possible failures, possible embarrassment. His face shifted from steely concentration to faux-friendliness.

It settled easily into the familiar expression constructed through years of campaigns. Inwardly he smiled broadly and felt a warm glow spreading at the new challenges he saw rising before him. New opportunities. First contact with the aliens that had cluttered the sky for years was a major step. It would be more beneficial to him to let it play out rather than continuing to try and recapture the subject. He watched the two youngsters, silently waiting the moment when he could begin to set things in motion.

We also started to receive of faint signal from Southern hemesphere conduit. Glytch recwired investigashun... We had not planned for it to meet Northern conduit away from point of North-South unity...

Pete started tapping on his arm. “So what do you want from us?�

Radiashon wood protect us from those who still hunt us. It wood hyde us.... It is lyttle more than luck, maybe fear of what our new alien allies from your home are capable of, that has kept us sayfe for now... It will not do forever. The radiashon is

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necessary for long-term protecktshon. Please, home, launch your nuclear weapons. Detonate them at seventyfyve aytee kilometers high... Detonation in atmsosphere shood sheeld us with a protecktive clowd....

See level will still mostly be raydiashunless...

There were collective mumbles and groans of disagreement and distrust. All the nuclear weapons on Earth? Pete again began tapping on his arm. “Sorry, but we can’t-.”

Antony knocked frantically on the forcefield, interrupting Pete’s train of thought. The knocking’s volume made Pete and Charlotte jump slightly, momentarily increasing the size of the forcefield a little, but it was still much smaller than it had previously been, the two of them feeling increasingly secure somewhat ironically due to Antony’s commanding, controlling presence. He looked Pete in the eye, deadly serious.

“Tell them we can do it.”

Pete opened his mouth to say something, but Antony cut him off. “Just do it, kid.”

Pete tapped out the message. Charlotte got a reply.

Thank you, home... We awayte your response...

Our fayte is in your hands...

Antony grinned. “Jones! Get me my phone.” *

*

*

The main deck of the ship had become crowded.

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Antony was talking to Jones, he looked up while Jones rattled off another nonsensical bunch of figures, projections on potential fallout from the missile strike. Antony did not care about numbers, it was not his concern if it went wrong. If it worked, and intergalactic war of some kind could be avoided, then Antony would gladly take responsibility. If it all failed, there were plenty of heads to roll before his would be placed on the block. Poor Jones, no doubt he hasn’t played the game long enough to know how to cover one’s arse.

He looked at Pete and Charlotte, embraced, a possible divine figure, but more importantly a potential scapegoat. He was fine, he was protected by the game of politics. He returned his stare on Jones, whose eyes were buried in a dossier.

“Those are the statistics, and as you can see, it’s not entirely foolproof.” Jones closed the folder and waited to be berated for another piece of information that was out of his control.

“It’s good enough for me, Jones. Don’t be so bloody pessimistic all the time! The missiles are going up, detonated far, far away. Positivist, if you stick with me on this then we’ll get you higher up on the old political ladder. Bombs away, Jones, get the phones ready.” He shooed Jones away like a fly.

Pete saw Antony alone, and approached him.

“What are you going to do?” enquired Pete. Antony realised that the boy was addressing him. He looked

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at him, before turning to the direction that Jones had disappeared off in.

“Jones! Jones you layabout, get the prime minister on the phone! Now!” “Sir.” Jones reached into his pocket and produced a phone. He dialled started dialling the number.

Antony was becoming impatient.

“What are you going to do? What are you doing to the aliens?” Pete asked with frustration. Antony turned to face Pete.

“Doing what they want, boy. Giving them a nice and expensive fireworks display.” He leaned closer to Pete. “So if I were you, I’d keep my fingers crossed, and hope that you didn’t cock up the message.”

Jones eventually walked over, holding the phone.

Antony snatched it from him.

“Don’t be too useful, Jones.” The comment was dripping with sarcasm.

“Mr. Prime Minister, sir? Hello sir. Yes, I’ve made first contact. Absolutely, yes prime minister. My thoughts entirely. Yes...In the interest of brokering solid and amicable alien-human relationships I am utilising directive alpha three treble six...yes prime minister. They want a launch and high-altitude nuclear detonation, up in the Mesosphere, a few kilometres above the Stratosphere. Yes. Well, this is apparently their request. No, no we predict a zero risk upon the population on Earth.” He raised his eyebrows, sighing silently. “All of them...Globally...No

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prime minister...I feel, as do my advisors,” he looks at Jones, If we can just organise a conference call with everyone still allied to us...I know, but time is pressing, prime minister. I can explain everything, happily... Thank you Prime Minister. I look forward to it.”

He shut the phone and thrusted it in the direction of Jones. Antony turned back to the group, meeting their quizzical gazes with a steely, determined eye.

“I used a special directive that allows the Secretary of State and Alien affairs to issue direct orders to the military, even the Prime Minister, in times of crisis.

We will soon find out if we can help these visitors.”

He let this hang in the air. “Right, Jones, get these kids a chair or something. It’ll be a hell of a view here.” Antony walked away from the group. *

*

*

A number of hours later, Antony came back out onto the deck. The skies were clear above the port of Gabon. He had finished the last of his calls and the smile that was draped across his face was proof enough to Jones that they were on the brink of the launch.

“Successful, sir?” Jones asked, nervously.

“Well, we haven’t got everyone. The Americans and the Russians have stuck their tails between their legs and have chosen to hide their heads in the sand.

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Anyway, we certainly have enough to give these aliens what they want. Let’s just hope this isn’t a bloody trick, as we’ll have no nuclear defences. We’d be forced to roll over quicker than the French usually do.”

Jones whispers in Antony’s ear.

“Sir, how do we know this isn’t a trick?”

“Jones. Think about it man. Unfortunately we have to trust these kids. I don’t trust many people, but we don’t have any options left I’m putting my arse on the line here, that means your arse is firmly here with me. So try being more bloody positive!”

Jones frantically nodded his reply. “And if it goes belly up, we blame it on the children.” He winked.

Jones did not react.

“Good. Please inform our alien allies that first launch should be within the next two hours.”

Pete nodded and started tapping furiously upon has arm, within a few seconds Charlotte’s arm mapped out the reply.

Thank you.

Antony laughed quietly to himself. “Where would we be without manners?” *

*

*

The Major knew that his time had come. He sat in his office, resigned to his fate. Prepared. He did not have his jacket on. He carefully straightened his tie.

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The sounds of sirens were getting closer. Blaming Dr James had been weak. He was not willing to spend the rest of his life in prison at the hand of Antony, no chance. He thought about the gorgeous daughter and stunning wife he had lost. Arguing with him because they wished he would give up smoking, begging him.

He never had.

He thought about the first time he saw Charlotte, beautiful, young, innocent. An amazing young lady.

The sirens got louder, he could only hope that the truth would someday come out. He could only hope that he would be remembered the right way, and that his legacy would not be in the hands of Antony of all people. He hoped Charlotte would find out the truth, how he had done his best to help her.

The Rubik’s cube sat completed on his desk. He had done it twice, anything to try and keep his mind blank. Moving and shifting the blocks, meticulous in his logic, it quickly came together, it hadn’t wasted the time he had hoped. He had a last smell of his whiskey, a beautifully aged ten year old malt, heather honey, fruits and oak. Fiery. He reached over and finished it in one. He went for his cigarettes and his lighter for the last time. ‘’To My Malcolm”. He decided against it, putting the lighter in his top pocket and the pack of cigarettes in the bin to his right.

He got up and walked around his desk to a window and saw three army vehicles approaching the compound. Three, he was only one man, he consid-

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ered Antony, he would want a big show, a spectacle, he considered briefly jumping out the window, but think of the mess, 16 stone of Major smashed over concrete, that would give Antony the spectacle he craved, it wasn’t really his style.

He opened a cupboard, removing a dusty cardboard box, he carefully removed the lid and the red velvet fabric covering his medals. He clipped them on, one at a time. Each won during his service to his country. The first and one he was most proud of was the ‘Distinguished Service Order’, awarded to him while he was a junior officer for ‘successful leadership during active operations’. He prized it so highly because that is what he was, a leader of men. A man to be trusted. He hoped that Pete, Marie and especially Charlotte would recognise that, and one day possibly Dr James would too. On went the ‘Distinguished Service Cross’, ’The Military Cross’, and the ‘Distinguished Service Cross’.

He clipped on his final medal, ‘The George Cross’.

He could hear the the vehicles parking outside. He had a little time they would reach his office on the fourth floor. Time for another drink? Why not?

He walked back-around his desk and took a seat, he poured another glass and downed it immediately. He pulled open his desk drawer slowly and took out a .22 calibre handgun. He hadn’t used it in years. His hands grew clammy and moist. Alongside the gun was a silencer, as he screwed it on to the gun the

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noise became acute and harsh, the scraping of metal on metal.

They must have been close now but he couldn’t hear anything except the scraping of the metal. He raised the gun with to his head and placed it against his temple. It was ice cold. Once again he thought of his daughter, his wife and Charlotte. He squeezed the trigger slowly. He closed his dark brown eyes.

There was a loud banging at the door. “Major!”

He heard nothing. *

*

*

Everyone’s faces were turned upwards. Vapour trails slowly streaked the sky. It was oddly quiet. All around the world, nuclear missiles were hurtling towards space, and all they could hear was the seagulls that followed the ship. Everyone held their breath.

Nobody knew whether this would actually work. They would soon find out.

It was strangely peaceful. In the clear sky, a smoky flower slowly spread out over the blue. The altitude made it seem so small and insignificant. The awesome power of a nuclear missile reduced to little more than a nigh-on insignificant speck high in the afternoon sky. The lack of oxygen made the explosion smaller, but despite the explosion’s size, it was the spread of radiation that everyone cared about. Slowly, another flower blossomed. Then an-

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other, and another. Gradually, it seemed as though the whole sky was becoming dotted with dark spots of nuclear detonation. Pete and Charlotte couldn’t tear their eyes away from the sky. It was not because of fear, but because the slow, silent chain of dark bursts was strangely hypnotic. Out the corner of their eyes, they could see Antony starting to shift uncomfortably. They could see he was slightly nervous, but trying to not let it show. The crowd were still silent. They too just watched and waited reverently. For some it was akin to a religious experience.

Humans offering help to the angels. For others it was as though humans were trying to bomb heaven itself, but the silent destruction was a wonder to behold.

Pete and Charlotte had to wait for a few more agonising seconds, looking up at the blue-and-black sky, before any word could be expected from the aliens saying if it worked or not. Nobody dared to speak.

Charlotte’s arms started moving. Pete beamed. It worked. The entire ship erupted in rapturous cheering and applause. *

*

*

Six weeks pass.

Things have moved fast.

Antony McCrea, the newly-appointed InternationalAlien Liaison steps up to the lectern set up on the platform outside the Houses of Parliament. He beams

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and waves to the cheering crowd that is stretched out before him. On his left, stands the Alien ambassador.

On his right, Pete and Charlotte, his aides and translators. Behind them, many of world’s most powerful leaders have assembled on the platform.

Big Ben, silhouetted by the reflective belly of London’s saucer, strikes twelve noon. Antony steps up to the microphone. The crowd immediately fall silent.

“People of England. People of Europe. People of the World. We have finally been reunited as one. We have endured years of darkness, of pain, of suffering.

That age is at an end. Today we stand at the gateway of a glorious new age of the Earth. No longer are we split along lines of colour, or race or belief.

Brought together by these visitors to our planet. For Aeons we wondered if we were alone in the universe.

10 years ago we found that we were not. And now I stand before you today glad of that fact. Thankful for our brothers from a distant world, without whom, we would not be looking ahead, eyes aglow with the promise of the future that he thought of only in our dreams. No longer is this future consigned to fantasy. We have overcome great adversity and come through a changed world. We shall be forever thankful to these two brave young people, who brought us together.”

There is a smattering of applause that slowly builds, forcing Antony, smile still intact, to raise his voice. “...without whom none of this could have happened...”

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The applause is too much to fight. Antony holds out a hand towards Pete and Charlotte. They need no introduction. Word of their actions has spread fast. Antony steps from behind the lectern and stands behind them, basking in the loud applause and affection that arrives in waves on the stage. One hand clasped on each of their shoulders. The three of them wave and acknowledge the crowd. Eventually it is quiet enough for Antony to continue.

“Obviously, there is still much work to be done.

Many hurdles to overcome. Many hopes to be realised. We are confident that together we can usher in a new period of prosperity, of progress and most of all of peace. Though mutual cooperation amongst our peoples we can create our utopia. I promise to all of you watching around the world now, that I shall devote my every waking moment to ensure we do not fall back to our old ways. To not let the world fall to the corruption that ruined it before. To make our dreams our reality!”

There is more applause and cheering from the crowd.

Antony’s smile somehow broadens.

“There is only one thing left to say after all these years...” He turns to the alien ambassador.

Sir, welcome to Earth.”