“Welcome back to the land of the living.”
“What time is it?” Asha said, shuffling over to the kettle. It was still hot and had enough water for Asha to make herself a coffee.
“Early,” Nell said. “Mikey’s not awake yet, so keep it down. Hopefully he’ll stay asleep for another couple of hours yet.”
“Did you put him to bed?”
“Yes. I found the two of you asleep on the sofa.”
Asha grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Mm, school rang me, too. Late to pick Mikey up as well?”
“Yes, but I did get the homework done,” Asha said, bracing herself.
But Nell just softened. “You didn’t even stir when I picked him up, Ash, you must have needed the sleep. You been working too hard?”
Asha raised her eyebrows. “Me, working too hard? I’m not the one working every hour at a restaurant around completing my degree and raising a four year old.”
Nell stayed silent a moment, then said, “It doesn’t matter, anyway. We’ve got nothing to get up for today. Go back to sleep for a bit if you want.”
“Nah,” Asha said, sitting down opposite her sister and sipping on her coffee. “I’m awake now.”
“Well, at least get a proper shower while you’re here,” Nell said. “A bath, if you want.”
“I have fixed the hot water on the motorhome, you know.”
Nell made a face. “Even if it’s working, that shower isn’t great.” Her expression softened, and Asha knew what she was going to say before she said it. “You can always move in with us, you know? Mikey would love to have you round a bit more. I know you wanted a bit of space, but now Daneel’s not around… I’m just saying, you don’t have to live in Dad’s old motorhome if you don’t want to.”
Asha had never brought Daneel back to the motorhome. They’d always stayed at his - she’d told herself it was because he had a proper place. A bedsit, sure, but four walls and working hot water. Besides, the motorhome was on Mal’s garage forecourt - they couldn’t exactly have any privacy there. It wasn’t because she hadn’t wanted to let him in to her private space.
Was it?
“It’s not that I do or don’t want to live in the motorhome,” Asha said. “It’s just… Well, you guys need your space from me, too. What if you meet a really cute doctor and want to start playing house? You’re not going to be able to do that with me in the spare room.”
Nell grimaced. “I’m sworn off men after Ricky.”
Ricky, Mikey’s father, had swept Nell off her feet when she was only twenty and two years in to her nursing degree. He’d made all the right noises about getting a place together when Nell finished her studies, but when she got pregnant, he’d cleared off so fast he’d almost left an outline of himself behind, cartoon style. Neither Nell nor Asha had seen or heard from him since.
“The motorhome is also super convenient for work,” Asha said, making Nell laugh, banishing the memory of Ricky and his betrayal for now.
“Well,” Nell said. “Have a think about it, anyway. I still hate that you spent your house deposit on Mikey’s surgery.”
Asha’s stomach tightened. There hadn’t been a house deposit - that was just the lie Asha told. Nell would never have taken the money if she knew it had been borrowed from a loan shark.
Nell closed her text book, rubbing at her eyes with the heels of her palms.
“I give up,” she said. “Can’t concentrate. Breakfast?”
Nell put the radio on while they made eggs on toast together, humming along tunelessly to the latest hits. Just as they were sitting down, the news started. The main story was about the street party celebrations that were taking place later on. The 115th anniversary of the end of the First World War had been a couple of days ago, and there was going to be a record breaking attempt at the worlds largest tea party outside Buckingham Palace, along with other street parties taking place across the city.
“I’d forgotten that was today,” Nell said. “I was going to take Mikey.”
“To Buckingham Palace? I think you need an invitation.”
“It will be like when they do the London Marathon,” Nell said. “They’ll put barricades up, but you can see over the top of them. Lots of people will go to get a glimpse of the King and all the celebrities.”
“Mikey wants to go see the King?”
“The alien Prince has been invited,” Nell said.
“Ah,” Asha grinned.
“It would make Mikey’s year if he got to see a real live alien. Even if it was through a crowd and from a distance. What do you think - fancy coming along? We could go find one of the smaller street parties to join in with afterwards, maybe.”
Asha thought of the cash in her jacket pocket. “I’ve got a couple of errands to run first thing,” she said. “But if I leave here early, I should be free by eleven. That’s when it starts, right? I can meet you there. We can elbow our way through the crowds if we have to.”
If Mikey wanted to see the alien Prince, Asha figured it was her duty as his aunt to get him as close as possible.
“Okay,” Nell said with a smile. “Let’s do that.”
It was unseasonably warm for November, the sun bright in the sky, just a few clouds here and there, not enough for rain. A perfect day for a street party.
Already there were people putting out tables, laying them with crisp white table cloths, mismatching tea cups and stacks of paper plates. Bunting hung from many windows and fences, with Union Jack flags everywhere.
Even as Asha stepped down into the Underground station, there was an air of celebration. The busker on the corner - usually working through a selection of late nineties indie rock tracks - was playing a bizarre guitar version of Rule Britannia. Some of the passengers even sang along, many of them clutching flags or carrying rucksacks stuffed with picnic items. The parks by the palace were going to be crammed full of people today. Asha only hoped she and Nell could get Mikey close enough to get a glimpse of an alien. He’d be so disappointed if they couldn’t.
The train took Asha out into a run down, industrial area of the city. She didn’t like coming here - avoided it as much as possible. The buildings were boarded up, graffiti staining their walls, smashed glass in the gutters. Crastor kept his ‘offices’ in an old warehouse - ostensibly used for ‘storage’, but Asha suspected it was a front business for distribution of illegal goods.
The warehouse door creaked open, announcing her entrance better than any sort of bell or alarm. Much like at Mal’s place, the front entrance opened into a waiting area - a customer facing zone with comfy chairs and out of date magazines. Behind the counter, a door lead in to what Crastor called his ‘office’ but was really just an old desk and some filing cabinets left behind by whoever had used the building before. It wasn’t like Crastor kept paperwork, beyond a ledger of all the money he’d loaned out. He kept that on his person. Asha had seen him pull it out from inside his jacket pocket, the little notebook browning at the edges where it had been thumbed by grubby hands too many times.
“Asha!” Crastor said, gesturing for her to come through.
As per usual, he was wearing a cheap suit, puffing on his vape, filling the air with the sickly smell of bubblegum. He always stunk of bubblegum - so much so that Asha didn’t think she’d be able to chew the stuff ever again. He had a wide smile on his face as she approached.
“Asha, how are you this fine morning?” Crastor said.
His friendliness put her on edge. He rarely had more to say to her than a grunt and a ‘hand it over’.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said, reaching inside her jacket pocket for the roll of cash. “I’ve come to make...”
But Crastor waved her off before she could speak. “Such an ugly thing, money. It makes monsters of all of us. Let’s talk about something else.”
Asha stared at him. “Money is literally all we have to talk about.”
Crastor grinned, letting out a huff of bubblegum breath. His eyes glittered with
something Asha really didn’t like.
“Well now, that’s a shame. Because I was hoping to speak to you about a business opportunity.”
“I’m not interested,” Asha said.
“Ah, but you don’t know what it is yet,” Crastor said, still smiling his yellow smile.
“No offence,” Asha said. “But I just want to make this month’s payment and go. I’ve got places to be.”
“No,” Crastor said.
Asha opened her mouth to answer him but surprise had robbed her of any ability to form words, never mind sentences. Crastor leaned forwards, jabbing his vape at her to punctuate his point.
“You owe me, Asha. I’m the one who decides how that debt gets paid, and I’ve decided that your money is far less valuable to me than… other services you might offer.” Asha’s face must have made her dread quite clear, for he started laughing and shook his head. “Oh, I’m sure I could find customers willing to buy you for that, but that’s not my intention. I want you to steal something for me.”
“I’m not a thief,” Asha said.
“That’s no matter,” Crastor said. “Stealing - at least, this kind of stealing - is much more about being bold than having any particular skill. And you are bold, aren’t you, Asha? You came in here all on your own and asked me to loan you money. Negotiated terms. You were so adorable, I even lowered my interest rates for you. Shouldn’t have, but what can I say? I have a soft spot for bold young women. And now it’s time for you to repay my generosity, as well as the rest of your debt.”
The rest of my debt?
“What’s the job?” she asked, wary. Anything Crastor was offering that would wipe her debt clean wouldn’t be good.
Crastor beamed at her. “It’s a simple thing, really. What you are stealing is neither valuable, nor rare to those it belongs to. There’s no security, and no reason for them to have any suspicion. All you have to do is walk in, pick up this particular item for me, and walk back out again.”
“If it’s that easy, why don’t you have him do it,” Asha said, indicating the heavy behind her. He’d stepped into the doorway at some point, as if Crastor thought Asha would try to run away. Her nerves ratcheted up a notch at the thought.
Crastor snorted. “Benny there has something you do not. He’s indispensable to me. Besides, I think a young, attractive woman will be less noticeable in this circumstance.”
“Just get to the point,” Asha said, losing patience rapidly.
“I want you to steal me a translator device from the Intergalactic Community.”
Asha burst out laughing, realising too late that he was being entirely serious.
“I think your estimation of ‘no security’ is a little bit off the mark,” she said. “There’s no way I can get on board the Space Station, or in to any of the places where they’re likely to be.”
“Not as someone just off the street, no,” Crastor conceded. “But, as a Match…”
“No,” Asha said, her horror at the very idea slipping in to her tone.
“Yes,” Crastor said.
“I am not taking that stupid test and being shipped off to be some trophy bride to an alien on the other side of the universe.”
Crastor shook his head. “That won’t happen.”
“What do you mean ‘that won’t happen’, you don’t know that.”
“I don’t know that, but I know good business,” Crastor said, tapping his finger against his desk. “They want Humans to sign up for the Match program. Probably so they can test genetic compatibility, send our women off to be little alien breeders or whatever, it doesn’t matter. The fact is, if they’re going to convince more people to take it, they need more success stories. Nice, public success stories. Like that blonde and the big green guy, all happy days in front of the cameras. They’re going to want more attractive women like that to make believe that all is good so more women sign up for it. You’re not bad to look at. You’re a perfect candidate to be Matched to one of the crew up on that Station. And when it happens, you can walk on in there and steal me what I need, and then take the next shuttle back down here and hand it over.”
“And what do you need one of their translator devices for?” Asha asked.
“An associate of mine intends to take it apart, see if they can manufacture their own. Imagine if such a device were available for sale - it would be a different world overnight. And my associate is prepared to give me a percentage of profits. A very tiny percentage, but what does it matter?” Crastor’s smile threatened to split his face in half. “A tiny percentage of a fortune is still a fortune, after all.”
“What if it comes back no Match?” Asha said. “That’s supposed to be possible, isn’t it?
Crastor smirked. “If it comes back no Match then you walk away, all debts considered paid. And if I’m wrong about the propaganda machine, you get to leave and never have to see my face again. Who knows, maybe it’s the real deal and you end up married to an alien fella you adore and have lots of half alien children.” He turned to her, the smile gone from his face and voice. “But when it does come back as a Match to the Station, I’m giving you forty eight hours to bring me what I want, or perhaps I go ask your pretty sister to do the job instead.”
Asha went cold. She’d never mentioned Nell, or anyone she cared anything for, to Crastor.
“You don’t get far in this line of work if you don’t learn to read people, Asha my dear. You might be tight lipped about your personal life, but here’s the thing.” Crastor grinned, showing far too many of his yellowing teeth. “After a while, you get to recognise desperation. It has a certain…” He sniffed exaggeratedly at the air, as if he could smell anything besides bubblegum and his own body odour. “…scent. When you came to me, you reeked of it. I thought to myself - a girl like that doesn’t get desperate for herself. No, you had to be looking out for someone else, and that kind of knowledge is power. So I looked in to it. Nell, isn’t it? Lovely thing. Even prettier than you.”
“Leave my sister out of this,” Asha said, clenching her fists to hide the trembling. “I’ll do what you want.”
The smile was back. “I knew I could count on you to see things my way, Asha,” he said.
Benny drove them to a clinic. Asha watched as Crastor kissed the receptionist on the cheek and handed her a roll of notes. She pocketed it, then gestured Asha over. Mutely, Asha filled in the forms she was passed, handed over her ID card and opened her mouth for a quick cheek swab.
“Be five minutes, hon,” the receptionist said to Crastor, disappearing into one of the other rooms.
The receptionist reappeared moments later, clutching a bit of paper in her hand. Asha’s mouth had gone dry as bone, swallowing suddenly difficult. She tried to keep her breathing even, calm, as she repeated to herself again and again:
Be no Match
Be no Match
Please, be no Match
As if her thoughts could influence the outcome somehow.
“Well?” Crastor said, rubbing his hands together.
“It’s weird,” the receptionist said. “The training manuals said there would be some sort of dating profile sent through, but this just says ‘please wait for the car’.”
Crastor snatched the paper out of the receptionist’s hands, but Asha heard all his questions through a fog of panic. If they were sending her a car, she had a Match. Would they be on the Station as Crastor predicted? Or was she about to be shipped off to the other side of the Universe, never to see Nell or Mikey again.
Chapter 4
“THERE’S A TEAM ON THE GROUND already,” Tarkken said as they stepped off the shuttle at Heathrow Airport and into the waiting car. “General feeling towards the Intergalactic Community has improved some, largely thanks to Angela.” Tarkken paused to acknowledge Angela, who blushed while Randar beamed with pride. “But the security efforts of the Humans are quite expansive, so I figured we were best to match it. I’ve got Garrix, Cribishk and some of the other higher level security team per
sonnel in place, and direct liaison with Superintendent Katherine Jackson, who has oversight of the Police and Emergency Service operation. Basically, there’s a lot going on.”
“So you’re comfortable for us to walk round, engage with people on the street?” Cael asked, then grinned. “In so far as you’re comfortable with anything outside, of course.”
Tarkken nodded. “If it’s okay for the King of England to be walking around, I’m as comfortable as it’s possible to be that it’s okay for you, too, sir.”
“In other words, he’ll be having kittens until we’re all safely back on the Station,” Angela said.
“What do feline young have to do with anything?” Tarkken said.
Angela laughed. “It means you’ll be worrying.”
“Why?” Tarkken said. “And what is with the Human preoccupation with cats in general? They’re everywhere you look on your Internet.”
“I don’t know why, it’s just one of those things we say,” Angela said. “And cats are cute.”
Tarkken didn’t look convinced. “Humans are unnaturally fond of keeping other creatures captive in their homes.”
“I suppose that is one way of looking at it,” Angela said, then smirked. “I’m going to laugh so hard when you’re Matched with an adorable Human woman who runs an animal sanctuary or something.”
“Not likely,” Tarkken said. “The Match test finds your perfect Match. I can’t see myself being Matched with an animal lover.”
“You might be surprised,” Cael said, thinking of his sister and her unlikely Match. “We don’t always know what we need.”
Angela studied Tarkken. “You know, I can’t even begin to imagine what your Match might be like.”
“Nobody can,” Randar said.
“I don’t see what’s so difficult about it,” Tarkken said. “I’m not particular about looks. Interests - as long as she has some, that’s fine.”
“You don’t want her to share your interests?” Angela said.
Cael Page 3