Aliens In My Garden

by Jude Gwynaire

  ‘Raaaark, he might, as well,’ said Razor, from his perch on the lefthand pole of a banner that read “Down Withe Kinges And Suchlike.” ‘Likes a good head-zapping if he can get away with it, raaark. And he can.’

  ‘Voice of experience there,’ said Alditha, getting up and sniffing appreciatively. ‘What’s got you all riled up anyway?’

  Old Tom took off his hat—it’s always wise to show deference to a witch, especially when she’s lost her hat and might be touchy about the subject. ‘Timmoluk,’ he said, and the crowd murmured its agreement.

  Alditha narrowed her eyes, feeling the prickle of something in the air that was going to make her angry. ‘Timmoluk Van Der Buck, sturdy lad from The Sheds?’ She blinked, slowly. ‘What about ’im?’

  It was Verno who plucked up the courage to tell her what had happened.

  ‘I see,’ said Alditha, long seconds after Verno had finished speaking.

  ‘Not just him,’ said a voice behind her. Odiz came forward. ‘Blighter killed my housekeeper, Mistress Fazackerly. Not right. Not right at all.’

  The crowd reacted, a wave of shock rippling through them all—Mistress Fazackerly was famous for her pies.

  ‘Raaark, not to mention Harper and Gunkin,’ said Razor.

  Alditha’s head snapped up to him. ‘What?’ she said. ‘Harper? My Harper? Is he-? Explain yourself, Mr. Razor and be quick about it.’

  ‘Raark, well, I mean, I’m not sure. Things were going a bit mad when I...Raaark, that is to say, I...’

  ‘You left him behind. Them, you left them behind,’ said Alditha.

  ‘The world was going nuts,’ squawked Razor. ‘There were all these things popping up out of the ground, and these weird-looking fellas coming out, saving your presence, friend-’ He nodded at Alpha.

  ‘Oh, no,’ moaned Celeste. ‘The bio-mechs are awake. That means the Sleepers are up, too.’

  ‘What about my owl?’ demanded Alditha with the patience of salt on a cut.

  ‘Well, I don’t know, do I? I know he was left behind with Gunkin. If it’s any consolation, this here is Harper’s Army, raark. Memorial, y’know? For the brave owl that stood up to my mad master, raaaaark. We’re protesting in his name.’

  ‘Consolation?’ said Alditha, quietly.

  ‘Oh corks,’ Odiz muttered, backing away.

  ‘Consolation,’ said Alditha again, just as quietly, but breaking into a sweet smile.

  ‘She’s gonna blow,’ said Odiz urgently to Celeste and Alpha —he hadn’t lived to be an old man by not knowing the signs of a witch about to explode.

  ‘CONSOLATION?’ roared Alditha. ‘That little owl was worth a dozen of you, Razor Blackwing, and another dozen for best. And you left him to die at the hands of that, that-’

  There was a fluttering noise that Alditha barely heard in her fury. If she’d been paying attention she would have noticed that the crowd wasn’t looking at her, which, given that she was an angry witch, was remarkable in itself. Then there was the feel of claws on her shoulder.

  ‘’s’nice to see you too,’ said Harper.

  Alditha turned her head. ‘Harper Fluffbelly, you are a nightmare. See what you’ve caused,’ she said, more or less out of habit, before rubbing him just at the top of his chest feathers. He turned his neck, and she scratched where he let her.

  ‘I’ve caused?’ he asked. ‘Seems to me like your alien friends there are the cause of all this. Well, them and that loopy wizard.’

  ‘This is Celeste, the girl from the teacup.’

  ‘It really isn’t a-’

  ‘And this is Mr. Alpha, who I gather you’ve met.’

  ‘Met the teacup-girl too.’ Harper sniffed at Alpha, then turned his head to look into Alditha’s eyes. ‘And you’re sure they’re not going to try and kill me, are you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Or invade and enslave us all and take food off our tables?’

  ‘Pretty sure, yes.’

  ‘Erm-’ said Celeste.

  The crowd held its breath as Alditha stopped scratching Harper’s neck feathers and turned around, slowly.

  ‘You don’t want to invade and enslave us all,’ said Alditha firmly. ‘Do you?’

  ‘We don’t, no,’ Celeste agreed, gesturing at herself and Alpha. ‘But it’s not as simple as that.’

  ‘Please,’ said Alditha, smiling a little too sweetly, ‘do go on.’

  ‘Oh blimey,’ muttered Odiz.

  ‘We were sent to find the Sleepers. There was supposed to be a team we’d call in once we’d found them. A team skilled at re-orientation. The Sleepers were originally on a mission to find an uninhabited planet for us to settle on. They thought they’d found it, then we lost contact with them. Although we figured out part of the story from their last transmission, we now know exactly what happened—there was an accident which forced them into cryo-sleep. If they’ve woken up cranky on a planet that’s not so uninhabited any more...actually, if they’ve woken up cranky on a planet that’s not so uninhabited anymore and met Skoros as the first example of what you’re like...well, I don’t know, the variables are not strictly calculable, but they might well decide to sterilize the planet, take it back to the uninhabited state they found it in.’

  ‘They might what?’

  ‘I’m not saying it’s right,’ said Celeste, ‘but it makes a certain amount of sense. From their perspective. Possibly.’

  ‘Oh good, I’d hate to die horribly if it didn’t make sense.’

  ‘Told you not to trust the aliens, didn’t I?’ whispered Harper in Alditha’s ear.

  ‘So there are good aliens, and bad aliens?’

  ‘Astarians,’ said Celeste. ‘And of course there are. Aren’t there good and bad witches? Good and bad wizards? Good and bad owls? Good and bad everything?’ she asked, appealing to the crowd.

  ‘There are only good elves,’ sniffed Brangle, but everyone ignored him.

  ‘Besides,’ said Celeste, ‘they’re not necessarily bad Astarians. They just might possibly want to kill everyone on the planet.’

  ‘If we survive this,’ snapped Alditha, ‘you and I are going to have a long talk about the meaning of good and bad around these parts, Missy.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Celeste, as something struck her.

  ‘Oh blimey,’ muttered Odiz, who also hadn’t got to be an old man without recognizing the moments when things don’t seem like they can get any worse, and then suddenly do.

  ‘There’s more?’ Alditha demanded.

  ‘Today. It’s today, isn’t it? Your Midsummer-?’

  ‘Hallowe’en, yes. Why? What’s that got to do with- Oh.’

  ‘Will somebody finish a bally sentence around here?’ Odiz exploded. ‘’s’enough to give a fella acute heartburn.’

  ‘Ven Tao, the Gardener,’ explained Alditha. ‘He pruned the Hedge today.’

  ‘Well yes, of course he did, we all know that.’

  ‘It was doing its thing today.’

  ‘Raark, it always does its thing today, dunnit? Very pretty and all that.’

  ‘It’s the time when dimensional boundaries are at their weakest,’ said Celeste. ‘When this world is closest to others. Believe me, it’s stupidly hard to get in here safely at other times. You can get in here dangerously, but you’d probably do all sorts of damage to the dimensional integrity if you did that. I think the scout ship only got here by luck.’

  ‘Luck and someone having a faulty grasp of dimensional physics,’ Alpha added.

  ‘Here, is there a dimension where there are giant worms and beetles and things, suspended in the sky?’ asked Harper.

  It was such an odd question right at that moment that people turned to look at him.

  ‘I shouldn’t say,’ said Celeste. ‘But yes, that would make a great deal of sense.’

  ‘Then I reckon the walls between dimensions have been thinning for a while now. Don’t...don’t ask me to explain,’ pleaded Harper, looking up at the sky beyond his visor.

  ‘Harper, d
arling bird, you know I’m going to ask you to explain.’

  ‘Yes, that was what I meant by don’t.’

  ‘If there’s been a weakening...’ Celeste stared up at the sky, but saw nothing but a blue sky turning pink as the afternoon wore on. She shook herself. ‘Yes, if the Hedge flares, it’ll be the best chance for the Sleepers to report back to Command. They’ll want to report that everything’s as it should be.’

  ‘Which means none of us should be here?’ asked Harper.

  Celeste nodded.

  ‘And you think they could kill us all?’

  Celeste looked pained. ‘They’d have the technology. Depends how desperate they are to conclude their mission.’

  ‘They’ve been asleep for nearly seven thousand years,’ said Alditha, ‘they’re probably going to want to get things done.’

  There was a cough.

  ‘If we might return to the small matter of the wizard who’s declared himself our king,’ sneered Brangle down his nose.

  ‘Don’t be a dingbat, man,’ roared Odiz. ‘Skoros is round the twist good and proper, but he hasn’t got his orbs anymore, which means any one of us can take care of him. Any mage, anyway,’ he amended, before the crowd got any ideas. ‘Meantime, bunch of alien Johnnies might blow us all to kingdom come for the sake of a gold star on their “What I Did On Me Holidays” essay.’

  Wizards? Thought Alditha. Talking sense?

  ‘You lot go blundering up to the castle, he’ll pick you off soon as look at you. But without his orbs, I can take care of the loon before he can crown himself king of anything more than his stupid slippers.’

  ‘Meanwhile we go and confront the Astarians,’ agreed Alditha. ‘And you lot go home,’ she told the crowd. ‘There will be a reckoning today, for Timmoluk and Mistress Fazackerly. You’re all going to be in the square tonight anyway for Midsummer Hallowe’en, but if we can make sure the Sleepers aren’t intending to blow us all sky high before that happens, there’s no sense you getting in the way.’

  The crowd shuffled.

  ‘Raark, fnmarpersarmy,’ muttered Razor.

  ‘What was that?’

  Razor faced Alditha. ‘I said we’re Harper’s Army,’ he repeated. ‘We don’t have no kings, and we don’t need no witches to swoop in and save us all. We’re not useless you know? We’re not stupid.’

  A small cheer went up.

  ‘I know you’re not,’ agreed Alditha. ‘Course you’re not. You’re Gardenfolk.’

  ‘I don’t know whether this helps,’ said Celeste, ‘but if the Sleepers decide to sterilize the planet, it’ll happen everywhere in a second, so being at home won’t save them.’

  Alditha’s thumbs were itching. ‘I sense Fate happening,’ she said, disapproving. Witches disapproved of Fate on principle, because things like Fate and Destiny depended on some people being more important than others. Witches thought of themselves as many things—more intelligent than most people, wiser, more likely to be right most of the time. But never more important—they’d sit up with a sick animal, help a dying troll find peace, bring a difficult child into the world and soothe the mother too, all because they could. Witches found their importance in the importance of other people. ‘What’s more, I have the peculiar sense that I would lose an argument with you lot, so it’s one I don’t propose to have. Come if you’re coming, but do nothing until I tell you. Do you understand me?’

  Brangle snorted. ‘And why should we take orders from you, madam? You’re late to this protest.’

  ‘Witches don’t give orders, either, Mr. Brangle. We give suggestions. Up to you if you follow ’em. Just so happens though that today, if you choose not to follow ’em, as is your right, you might condemn everyone in the Garden to death. Your choice.’

  And without another word, Alditha picked up Sprat the pixie, and carried him through the crowd, followed by Celeste and Alpha, the crowd folding back on itself to follow her, leaving Brangle at the back.

  __________

  ‘Whut do yoo wunt?’ croaked Zirca.

  ‘Good question,’ said Gamma. ‘Excellent question, and we’ll come to that. But first, some answers. What’s your plan? What do you intend to do?’

  Zirca looked into Gamma’s eyes, but they gave nothing away. Win or lose, live or die, he knew it depended on his answer. ‘The Astarian fleet of spaceships will be here within hours. We were to find an uninhabited planet. I intend to make sure that’s what we found before the fleet arrives.’

  ‘To kill everything?’ asked Gamma. Even in his metallic voice, Skoros’ surprise came through.

  Zirca grunted, tried to get a breath through the bio-mech’s grip. It relaxed a tiny fraction. ‘Everyone,’ Zirca corrected. ‘All non-sentient life will be preserved as we’ll need to produce protein. But nothing intelligent will be allowed to share the world with us.’

  Gamma was silent for a moment. Then he laughed—a strange sound from a bio-mech. ‘So, by killing you right now, I could save my world?’ The laugh erupted. ‘Skoros, saviour of the world, as well as its king. Some might be tempted by that notion.’ The fist on Zirca’s throat tightened. ‘Some might be very tempted.’

  The fist relaxed again.

  ‘But not me,’ he said. ‘As far as I’m concerned, the people of this world are cattle to be slaughtered. Do with them what you like. I’ll even deliver them to you, like a Midsummer Hallowe’en gift.’

  ‘I ask again,’ Zirca squeaked. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘It’s simple,’ said Gamma-Skoros. ‘I want one ship. Just one of your giant spaceships. Fully stocked with these toys of yours, these mechanical people, to do my bidding. And plenty of the orbs, they were rather fun. I let you live and deliver you the people of this world for extermination so you can please your masters, you give me the ship, the mechanicals, the orbs, and you let me go. This world was always too small for me. I will find others to conquer. Do we have a deal?’

  Zirca coughed as Gamma’s hand tightened on his throat again. He managed to nod briefly.

  ‘Say it. I need to hear you say the words.’

  ‘We have an accord,’ the Astarian squeaked.

  ‘Good then,’ said Gamma-Skoros, releasing his grip immediately, letting Zirca cough air into his lungs properly. ‘Oh and-’ Gamma tapped him hard on the shoulder. ‘-just in case you get any thoughts about betraying me once my part of the bargain’s completed, you should know I really like these mechanical men of yours. I know how to transfer between them now.’

  Delta, who had been silent throughout their confrontation, waved a hand. ‘You’ll never see me coming unless I want you to,’ said the second bio-mech. ‘Remember that.’

  The bio-mechanical creatures moved away, leaving Zirca to consider the bargain he’d made—and leaving Peridot, unseen, hiding behind the entrance to her pyramid, her eyes wide with fear.

  18

  In the relative busyness of the Milky Way, the ships went unnoticed. They masked their signals to look like lumps of ordinary space junk, but having come so far, now all they had to do was wait. Wait until the moment was right.

  __________

  Peridot nipped quickly back into her pyramid to think. Zirca was considering genocide. More than considering it, he’d struck a bargain to deliver it. A clean sheet. An uninhabited planet, just like it was when they’d gone into cryo-sleep, when Venny had been so fascinated with worms.

  It felt like just hours ago. Just hours since they’d had that last joking conversation, and now here she was—Venny was dead, the planet teemed with intelligent life, the fleet was on its way, was almost here, and she had little time to make her choice.

  It was true, the team had been looking for an uninhabited world for a long time, somewhere the Astarian people could call home again after thousands of years of wandering the universe. Did she have the right to take that dream away from them, for the sake of people she didn’t even know?

  Would the mission parameters have shifted? Was she still bound by their original mission profi
le? What was the procedure when an uninhabited planet became an inhabited one while you were sleeping?

  Oh Venny...

  Everything was strange about her situation, but the strangest thing to her was that she hadn’t yet had time to really feel that Ven was gone. It was the blink of an eye from their conversation about worms to right this second, and he’d been dead for nearly seven thousand years—almost as long again as she’d been alive when they had that conversation. It just felt like he was down in the engine room, tinkering and pruning, like she could call his name and her communicator would buzz and there he’d be, cheeky and cheerful and monstrously full of himself as ever.

  She couldn’t even miss him yet, he hadn’t been gone long enough. His death was utterly unreal to her, for all she was trained in reason and logic.

  Focus, she told herself. One problem at a time. Ven will still be dead when the reality of it hits you, and when it does, you might not be able to do what you need to do.

  Right now, the immediate problem was Zirca and his plans. What if she told the others, and they agreed with him?

  Maybe I agree with him, she reminded herself. She knew nothing about the inhabitants of this world. Maybe they were worth sacrificing to the mission. Maybe they weren’t. She needed more information, but she knew she also needed to share what little she did know with the rest of the crew. If they were all in favour of Zirca’s plan, maybe they’d calm the nagging feeling in her mind that it was wrong.

  Can’t use the comms system, she realized. Zirca would be in the loop. Also, if what this Skoros said was true, she couldn’t trust any of the bio-mechs. Got to get them together the old-fashioned way.

  Resolved at least that far, Peridot went to the back of her pyramid, and took the elevator down into the earth.

  When Ven had initiated the cryo-sleep protocol, they’d all obeyed without question, getting to the cryo-pyramids and feeling the thrust as they’d been punched into the ground, deep, deep beneath the surface. They’d already been asleep when the pods had automatically initiated phase two, and unfolded, vapourising earth and soil, replacing them with metal, building tunnels and rooms while the Astarians slept, connecting each of their pyramids together by a network of functional tunnels. The self-building base was a safety mechanism in case of the pyramids being activated on worlds where the surface suddenly became hostile or uninhabitable. While it was in no sense a ship, they could have come out of cryo-sleep at any point and at least lived in the metal world the automatic systems built for them. She reached the bottom of the shaft now and stepped out into the dimly lit corridor. Mali-Juna would be in the makeshift lab. He’d be her first confidante. She moved off down the corridor.