“Acceleration warning,” announced the ship’s AI, sending the same message to everyone’s implants which made them activate their seat harness’s. The room went silent for a few minutes as the pressure began to build, before levelling off and vanishing as the ship reached its chosen acceleration. The AI gave the all clear, at which point everyone began to talk again and Duke Gallagher answered several more questions before excusing himself, leaving Collinson to chair the meeting.
When he was two days out from Wayland, to Patrick’s immense relief, an encrypted signal came in from Vimes with a message from Alexander, confirming he was safe and currently making his way to Arisia to join and take command of the new fleet. As Vimes had correctly assumed, Patrick was to continue with his current mission and go to Wayland’s Jump Station where he was to assemble his own Sector fleet and await further instructions. Unable to converse in real-time due to the light speed delay, Patrick had to make do with simply sending his Emperor a heartfelt note of congratulation and reassure him all the resources of his Sector was at his disposal. Immediately, Patrick sent instructions to his eldest son to meet with him at the Jump Point, which by now had re-established and was open to incoming and outgoing traffic, albeit every ship was being comprehensively searched before allowed to progress, resulting in considerable delays. Already, many of the large mercantile houses and corporations were complaining about their mounting costs caused by the disruption and not for the first time, Patrick appreciated the wisdom of insisting every solar system was self-sufficient and not reliant on trade for the necessities, able to function almost indefinitely even if cut off for long periods. This self-reliance was a hard-learned lesson from the early years of Empire when a two hundred year period of turmoil and internal strife resulted in many systems regressing back to a point where they could no longer sustain space flight or advanced technologies.
As instructed by Alexander, Patrick kept news of his survival to himself, his sharp tactical mind running through the obvious, and not so obvious, implications. He was also looking forward to seeing Christine again, although he wished it could have been under happier circumstances. The problems and assassination attempt on Heaven, which had seemed so important at the time, now paled into insignificance as the full extent of the rebellion across the Empire unfolded. Now that the majority of Jump Points were finally open and information could come through from other parts of the Empire, the current desperate situation was becoming increasingly obvious to the general population, despite the controls put in place. For many, the thought of two civil wars in their lifetime was an awful prospect, remembering as they did the horrors of planetary bombardment and the horrific loss of life. One thing Patrick knew with total certainty, whichever side was victorious, the Empire was not going to be the same and change was inevitable.
Scene 30, Dagenham, 1943. Imperium Revelations
The night was dark and still when the staff car left Christine’s rented house, taking Station Commander, Group Captain Adnams, and a female WRAF, whose name Christine couldn’t remember, back to the airfield. Despite the offer of having the WRAF stay to keep her company through the night, Christine had declined the offer, too numb and shocked at the news they had brought.
Earlier, the unexpected knock on her front door and seeing two shadows through the frosted glass as she walked into the hallway had immediately sent alarm bells ringing in her head. Her heart rate increased as she walked to the door and by the time she reached out her hand to the lock it was already shaking. Christine had immediately recognised the Station Commander and seeing the other officer was a woman, obviously there to provide emotional support and sympathy, her worst fears were realised, releasing an icy hot shock through her bowels that threatened to overwhelm her self-control.
Captain Adnams had seen the same look on the faces of more than his fair share of wives over the past few years and no matter how many times he had to break this sort of news, it never became any easier. He was grateful to the WRAF for coming with him, for at times it was difficult to deal with the outpouring of grief and shock that almost invariably came with the realisation the woman’s husband was dead or missing in action. Immediately the door opened, he could see from the look on Christine’s face that she understood why they were there and he was impressed with her stoicism, inviting them into the neat and spotless front room, obviously kept for greeting visitors. The WRAF made them all a pot of tea while he had sat opposite and explained how Alexander was missing, bravely taking on a number of attacking Focke Wulf’s single-handedly so the slower bombers could return safely. The news Alexander was being put forward for a gallantry medal had been received with no emotion, other than two tears that had run down her face as he explained what would happen next. Christine had simply asked if he was sure that Alexander wasn’t somewhere safe, so Adnams went through the sequence of events and how everyone at the airfield had waited for news, hoping he might have made it across the coast to land at Manston or had been picked up by a patrol in the Channel, but as darkness fell, so did any chance of his coming back.
Christine had taken the news stoically, at least on the outside, hanging on to the slim hope that he had safely parachuted and was a prisoner of the Germans, but inside her thoughts were a turmoil and she hardly heard what the two of them were saying to her, simply nodding or asking questions she already knew the answer to. They stayed with her an hour before leaving, obviously relieved to be going, despite doing their best to mask it. Christine remained sitting on the sofa where they had left her after letting themselves out, listening to the car drive off, looking at nothing, her mood black as the night outside. There had been knocks on the front door as several neighbours wanted to see if they could help, obviously having seen the car turn up and the two officers come out and only too aware of what it meant, but Christine ignored them, not wanting to share her sorrow with anyone and just needing to be alone with her thoughts and grief.
How long she sat there, Christine didn’t know, her mind running through endless permutations before looping back to where she had begun, only to start all over again. Eventually, she got up and took herself to bed in a vain attempt to find sleep, a part of her wanting this to be an awful dream that she would wake from in the morning light. She sobbed quietly into the pillow until tiredness and the emotional strain drew her into a fitful, nightmarish sleep full of horrid images and despair, a part of her mind still awake and aware of what had happened, listening out in a vain hope for something, anything that might signal her husband was safe.
High in the night sky above, a testy and nervous Alexander paced around the command deck, frustrated at himself for waiting so long, but he had to make sure none of the neighbours would be awake. Frustrated now beyond tolerance, from the deck he ordered an exo-suit to form around himself, then told the yacht to descend, stealthed and cloaked and land in the waste ground and open fields that spread out from behind his rented house for almost a mile, providing plenty of cover. While still a thousand feet above, he gave Patrick his orders, then stepped out of the airlock and into the cold night sky, dropping like a stone before activating the repulsors and guiding himself in a controlled glide towards his back garden. The yacht vanished completely once the soft light from the airlock vanished and the cloak became perfect again, Patrick guiding it to land in a level area of empty ground six hundred yards from the house, well away from the ribbon of terraced houses that ran down to within a short distance of the small river.
Alexander could hear the wind whistling outside his helmet, then began to slow his descent, angling in so he would skim over the tall privet hedge at the rear and not have to clamber over it in his armoured suit and risk waking the neighbours. The helmet’s wraparound viewscreen showed everything as if it was bright daylight, and he glided down into the middle of his lawn, landing a little heavily, the boots sinking six inches into the rain-softened earth with a muted thump. Softly, he walked towards his back door, but not before looking up at all the darkened windows of the neighb
ouring houses, alert for a twitching curtain or a face. Fortunately, everything had so far gone to plan and he had arrived unseen. He moved closer to the door, then instructed the armour to open up, allowing him to step out in his RAF flight-suit and quietly open the door with his key, taking care not to make any noise.
He stepped into the familiar little galley kitchen and headed towards the stairs, taking them slowly and avoiding the two he knew would creak, afraid he would alarm Christine into thinking she was being burgled. Having been on the receiving end of her street-fighting technique once before, he was in no mood to repeat the experience, especially now when she would likely strike out in anger and not hold back in any way. At the top of the stairs, Alexander halted outside his bedroom door. Now the moment was here, all his plans and what to say faded away, leaving him standing there with one hand on the bakelite door knob, almost paralysed with indecision. What if she didn’t want to come away with him? What if she thought him mad and refused to even go look at the yacht? What if she hated him for lying to her?
He looked down at his hand, only partially visible in the dim light of the landing, for a long minute, unsure what to do.
“Oh for goodness sake, Alex, get on with it,” the voice of Vimes spoke in his mind, sounding louder than usual and making him start with surprise, “everything will work out fine. She’s a wonderful woman, loves you dearly and would follow you to the ends of the earth. ”
Reassured by Vimes and no longer paralysed by indecision, Alexander slowly opened the door and knelt down by his wife's sleeping form, her normally gentle face looking pinched and strained as she slept, hair tousled over the pillow. He knelt there, looking lovingly at her face, realising how much he loved her and feeling horrible for the pain he had just put her through. He reached out his hand, gently stroked her hair and began whispering.
“Christine, it’s me, Alexander. Wake up darling, there’s something I need to tell you. I’m back.”
With a start, Christine sat bolt-upright in bed and threw her arms around him, kissing him fiercely, sobbing as she hugged him so tightly, surprising even Alexander at her strength.
“I knew they couldn’t kill you…not you, Alex. Did a patrol boat pick you up? What time did you get back from the coast, or did you land somewhere or what happened to you?” she asked, the questions falling over themselves as she spoke them, not knowing or caring which was the correct answer, just overjoyed he was back in her arms again. The familiar warmth and firmness of his body as she ran her hands all over him, making sure he was unharmed and she wasn’t dreaming, told Christine everything was alright, and she held him tight, not wanting to let him go.
Alexander returned her kisses with a similar passion and had to resist the temptation at that moment to get into bed with her. He let his wife finish, waiting for her to break and come back down to earth again, before moving on to the really difficult thing he had to do.
“Christine,” he began, “there’s more to what’s happened than meets the eye. Please forgive me, my dearest, but I’ve been keeping things from you from the moment we met, not because I wanted to, but because they are so ridiculous that without solid proof I couldn’t expect you to believe me.”
Christine, knowing her man so well, realised from the tone of his voice that he was serious, so she responded with a simple “Go on,” then sat up in bed, waiting for him to continue, her eyes searching what she could see of his expression in the dim light, pleased and relieved he was finally opening up to her. She could feel his hand reach out across the blanket for hers, so she took it with a squeeze, reassured by this simple gesture of affection that everything was going to be alright.
“You know those stories I tell you..you know, the ones you like to hear about aliens and space travel, galactic empires and marvellous gadgets and spaceships?” She nodded. “Well, they’re not exactly made up stories, in fact…actually, they are all true.”
Christine said nothing, his nervousness and obvious sincerity fighting with her natural inclination to dismiss what he was saying out of hand.
“My size, my body temperature, the strange way I sometimes seem to be listening to something only I can hear. You have always known that I was keeping something back from you, haven’t you?”
She nodded. “Prove it to me, Alex. I know you have never lied to me and I trust you with my life, but where’s the proof?” she asked him, the logical part of her mind cutting through the emotion and getting right to the heart of the matter. “I’m still trying to come to terms with you not being a prisoner or burned or dead somewhere in France, so let’s not beat around the bush…prove it to me or take those clothes off and get into bed and prove this isn’t all some crazy dream I’m having.”
Alexander nodded, then stood up.
“OK. Get dressed and come with me. Put a cardigan on as it’s a bit nippy outside and we will be walking over towards the iron bridge…the one going over the railway line. I’ll show you all the proof you will need. There’s also something downstairs that will help you believe me,” he said, with a smile.
“This had better be worth it, Alex,” Christine said. as she threw back the covers and slipped out of her nightdress, going over to the wooden chair over which she had draped her clothes before going to bed. A change of underwear and a strong pair of socks later, she was dressed for going outside. Alexander waited patiently as she went into the bathroom to fix her hair and wash her face, knowing it would be easier to get her to go outside if she felt respectable, even if there was no-one around to see her. He marvelled at just how practical his wife was and the faith she showed in him, even though he suspected that if hadn’t been telling her the truth she would make his life miserable for a while.
A few minutes later Christine came out and they walked down the stairs and out to the back door. She stopped for a second, seeing the shadow of his exo-suit through the back door, silhouetted by the moonlight.
“Who’s that?” she asked, looking at Alex.
“Part of the proof, love. It’s a what, not a who. No, don’t put the light on, I don’t want to risk any of the neighbours seeing it,” he said, as she went to switch on the kitchen light for a better look. Alexander opened the back door, the cool, night air coming in, making Christine go back into the hall and pick up an overcoat and hat from the hook next to the full-length mirror. She walked back to Alexander, adjusting the hat so it sat at a jaunty angle.
“What are you waiting for, come on,” she told him, gesturing Alexander to go out first, not sure what was waiting just outside the back door. He stepped out and walked backwards into the suit, waiting for her to get a good look before giving it instructions to close. Christine stood at the threshold, seeing Alexander framed by whatever it was, then heard him say quietly, “Watch.”
The suit flowed silently around his body, sealing him in, leaving just his head exposed so she could watch his face.
“Goodness, gracious me. Is that one of those battle suits you told me about?” she asked quietly, stepping forward and to Alexander’s surprise, reaching out and running her hands over the smooth, dark metallic surface, then walking around to the back, feeling the smooth contours and playfully trying to pinch his bottom through the material.
“Can it fly?” Christine asked, and even in the dark, Alexander imagined he could see her eyes light up at the thought.
“I told you she was a good one, didn’t I,” Vimes self-satisfied voice sounded in his mind, “quick on the uptake too. When are you going to introduce us?”
“Shut up, Vimes,” Alexander replied. Vimes took the hint and became silent again, but Alexander could sense he was watching, enjoying the moment.
“No, love, this variant doesn’t fly, but it can glide very well. Is this enough proof for you that I’ve told you the truth about what I am?”
Christine stood on tip-toes and looked closely at her husband's face, leaning forward to give him a kiss. Obligingly, he bent down at the knees, and they kissed, a brief, yet loving touch of lips.<
br />
“Oh, I’m so happy you are safe, Alex, I just want to shout out loud,” she whispered to him, her voice taking on a tone of excitement. “What’s next?” she asked.
By way of an answer, Alexander swept her effortlessly up into his arms, the powered suit taking all of the strain. “Put your arms around my neck and hold on tight to your hat, we’re going for a run. Now keep quiet and don’t wake the neighbours,” he whispered, running towards the five-foot high hedge and leaping up and over in one fluid motion. Despite herself, Christine let out a badly muffled squeal of excitement, but by then they had already left the house fifty yards behind, Alexander accelerating the suit to fifty miles an hour within seconds, causing Christine to hang on even tighter at the unexpected turn of speed and the wind rushing in her face. He looked down at her and laughed softly as he saw the look of sheer joy on it, her eyes definitely now twinkling, perhaps with the rush of air or more likely, with excitement and emotion. Christine looked back at him with a smile of encouragement and Alexander’s heart almost burst with pride, knowing now that everything was going to be alright. He looked ahead, not needing to say anything, as they rushed out into the night, through a gap between the round, yard thick concrete tank traps which marched into the distance, and out into the open fields.
For Christine, the run was over far too soon and Alexander let her gently down to the ground, her reluctance to let go obvious in the way she hung on, hoping for another experience like that.
“Oh, Alex, that was amazing, can we do it again?” she asked, not needing to keep her voice down now that they were hundreds of yards away from the nearest house. Alexander smiled but shook his head.
“When this is over you can have a suit of your own and can run for as long or as far as you like.”
Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy Page 34