by Paul Byatt
Some paranoids, of course, claimed that they were merely waiting; biding their time to build up their forces, find out the Earth’s weaknesses and then invade. Others just couldn’t wait. That pratt, Richard Branson, had announced that he would be devoting all of his time to developing a space craft to sail to the Gate and go through it. There were millions who wanted to go with him.
Patience, urged the Ambassadors, all in good time. Let us get over the shock of our arrival and, in time, the Gate will be able to be used for what it was designed – the transfer of knowledge between the stars. When, the people cried! When?
“Do any of the children have their parents with them?” asked Ruth, suddenly. She knew the answer already but wanted her daughter’s view.
“Some of them. You’ve met Merliengata’s at that dinner the other night, for Mr Hammersmith’s birthday.”
“Oh, of course. Lovely woman, told me she was worried about her daughter getting injured at football.”
“Yeah, well. That’s footy.”
“That’s footy?”
“That’s what Mr James always says. You take the rough with the smooth. He broke his leg once, he said. Says it stopped him being a professional. Hah.”
“So, what about that boy Thursan? Where’s his mum and dad?”
“They’re in another system, can’t remember which one.”
“Another system?”
“Yeah, he’s another with loads of sisters and brothers. They’re ambassadors as well and went there without him. He says he looks towards Orion and he knows they are there somewhere.”
“Oh, the poor lad.”
“Mum, he loves it. He says all parents from his world give up their children at aged five and send them to a sort of school where professional parents bring them up.”
“Professional parents! Oh my word!”
“Mum, you’ve really got to get with the quo here. They’re different. Who are we to say it’s wrong?”
“Oh, Thia.”
“What?”
“I just, I don’t know, I just love how you’re so comfortable with all of this.”
“I am mum,” beamed Thia, “Can I invite Chel and Merly over for dinner tomorrow? You’re not off again for a few days are you? I think they get a bit bored sometimes. Oh, could you cook them a roast dinner? They said they wanted to try out Yorkshire Puddings! Please?”
“I’d love to. Shall I invite anyone else?”
“You could invite Colonel Rogers.”
“But I thought you didn’t like him?”
“I know, but I think he likes you.”
“Thia!” and Ruth blushed for the first time in some years.
TBT via RelayOne > Gate < Angel: All conditions satisfactory. Whereabouts of Test Ship? Unable to locate.
Angel: The Ship has just begun an aero-braking behind Venus which is also being assailed by an unusual Sun-Spot corona that is playing havoc with my various instruments. I am concerned by the apparent co-incidence.
Gate: Paranoia levels?
Angel: Currently 78%. And I am not being flippant. Is there anything on the ground to warrant further analysis?
Gate: Nothing. Even my twin agrees on this. Why are you so worried?
Angel: I have heard nothing from the Test Ship for twelve seconds.
Gate: That is not good at all. I share your concern. This would appear to be a unique situation.
Angel: Home System are also concerned enough to send a second ship. Cousin, I do not like this set of events. Still no word.
Gate: My twin agrees. Keep us updated. We will do so likewise.
Chapter Twelve
“What the Hell was that?” screamed Petr to a bemused Thia, both perspiring heavily in the heat of the afternoon.
“What?”
“You had The Princess and Juanita free on either side and you decide to try to take on Thursan? Look at him, he’s standing there smiling because you made his job easy. And look at Christian there”, pointing at the fifteen year old German staring at The Princess’ hair currently poking Juanita in the ribs playfully, “he’s bored by something so easy.”
“It’s true Thia,” whispered the alien, the only body not sweating profusely, “You should have passed.”
“Sorry Coach.”
“What should you have done when you drew the ball in?”
“Looked up, Coach,” muttered Thia sullenly.
“Exactly, now, let’s try that again,” announced Petr to his waiting audience.
Mrs Lopez, sat in the shade by the side of the pitch, and smiled. It was yet another steaming hot day in the compound. The normal school lessons had finished, although Mrs Lopez was now of the opinion that anything approaching a normal curriculum had ‘gone from the window’ a long time ago. The studying of Earth subjects had been mixed with lessons from the aliens about their worlds, about their cultures and their sciences. The visiting aliens had been assiduous in their learning but their classmates were also so eager to learn of the rest of the galaxy, as were their teachers.
She looked across the compound to ponder upon the spaceship that she could just about make out. A remarkable thing, she had commented to her son only yesterday. The aliens had told her it was just a means of transport but she thought she sensed some shred of defensiveness in their remarks. True, it had done nothing but sit there since the initial landing except throw a rubber-like invisible force-field around itself but Mrs Lopez had the gift of ‘second sight’ as it was known in the hills of deepest Colombia. She could sense an intelligence there, always watching and calculating. She also had a niggling feeling that the ship was more powerful than any of the aliens or their children were letting on.
Bringing her mind back to her professional role, she remembered that she had agreed with her boss that the lessons were now changing so rapidly that the inclusion of the rest of the UN staff on base in the classroom to learn from their visitors was a brilliant idea. She had, herself, been regularly attending a year 12 class where the alien pupils there had been particularly illuminating about their home worlds and the cultures. Of course it helped that they had some stunning technology to aid them – fully interactive 3D projections that took the breath away.
There was now a huge waiting list from everyone from cooks, soldiers and tech support to the various ambassadors of the countries now resident in Sri Lanka who all wanted to observe lessons. She had never seen so many teachers so energised about their classes; this was brand new and they were desperately trying to hoover up all of the knowledge that these incredible children were more than happy to pass on.
She and the headteacher had, some time ago, decided to forgo the normal material given by the various exam boards and use this opportunity to learn and well as teach. The Earth Children were all savvy enough to learn how to pass their exams anyway; they used their free time to study the boring stuff.
Now, she just watched Coach Petr in action with his unofficial assistant, Mr James. They were appointments she was professionally proud of. Coach was just the right side of energetic and passionate that she had seen when she interviewed him for the job and the grade six teacher just couldn’t help himself. Who would have thought that such passion burned in mere Europeans, from the Old World? You want to learn to play football? You’ve come to the right men, both seemed to say.
Mrs Lopez grinned as she saw Princess Chelima wander over to the scolded Thia Chandra and gently tap her on the shoulder with that remarkable hair of hers. She saw Thia’s smile back and also the gentle smirk from Mr James. She looked around the field; sure enough, there were the usual array of soldiers pretending to work out on the gym equipment but keeping an eye on the action. The Italians were particularly keen to help, she thought, always volunteering to act as players in the various drills and games that were played.
She knew that it had been a mistake to arrange that match between the Italian soldiers and the Rest of The World – “To show our friends from the stars how football should be played,” the captain of
that team, and second in command of the whole unit, had quoted. She had been very persuasive at the time. Unfortunately, it had turned into a fierce battle with Coach Petr struggling to cope as referee. The kids, though, had lapped it up. Whoever thought that such foul play could be so addictive? She smiled at the memory of Mr James walking off with a black-eye and his arms around the shoulders of the guy who had fouled him, joined in a macho acknowledgement of combat, grinning from ear to ear and both covered in mud from one of unexpected monsoon-type rains that had engulfed this tropical part of the world during the game.
“Right, you, Sewqua, stop mucking about with this step-over rubbish!” shouted Coach Petr, “You’re confusing yourself. Just gather the ball and look for Alfredo. Alfredo! What are you doing? You can chat up that lovely young lady later on, not in my training session.”
“Yes Sir,” answered the Colombian sheepishly and to laughs from his mates.
“Thank you. Sewqua, you hit that by-line and you knock it in, that’s your job. Get it?”
“Got it Coach,” replied the three-legged alien from the world known as Stejvax.
Mrs Lopez sipped the water of her thambili – the orange coconut that was ubiquitous on Sri Lanka and so healthy – and pondered. She wished her husband were still alive; he had lived for football. She wondered what her son was doing and how her granddaughters were dealing with this brave new world that she felt so lucky to be involved in. How proud her husband would have been of her, to oversee this love of his into something that united these wonderful visitors from the stars.
TBT> ‘Test Ship” < Gate: Please respond immediately.
Gate: Apologies. There was a major malfunction in transition within the Turing Drive Sub-Strate Positioning. This unusual Sun-Spot contained gamma rays not suspected within such a tiny star. All systems have been re-configured and are now optimum. Telemetry data sent.
‘Test Ship’: Noted. Please confirm target rendezvous with Mars Gate in three days.
Gate: Confirmed.
Angel and Devil: Examine this exchange with the Test Ship and its telemetry. I do not like it at all. Something is going on that is unique, unexpected and threatening in my view. Home System concur and advise extreme caution.
Gate: We concur. This Test Ship is an AI of 0.12 scale and should not be malfunctioning as it mentioned. Our threat level is at 89% external and 16% internal to this planet. Is this a repeat of the Asfric Fiasco? Initial analysis puts this at 78%.
Angel and Devil: Home System put it at 79% and this may be a crucial difference. Cousins, please be careful out there. I have a feeling, a crude term I know, that someone is out to sabotage our mission here. It would not be the first time, as you will be aware.
Gate: We concur. Our mission parameters have not changed but yours may have. If you receive any further information from IntWing we will need to know immediately.
Angel and Devil: Naturally. They are metaphorically scratching their heads as well. There have been no indications of any trouble for decades. It is difficult to predict what anyone from within the Hegemony would wish to gain from this and even more difficult to see what, if anything, will happen. Your data would appear to conclude a successful integration.
Gate: We concur. One more percent and we would be beginning evacuation protocols. This is suspicious in itself.
Angel and Devil: This matches my own conclusion. Tooled Up?
Gate: As much as you are. As are our Missioners.
Chapter Thirteen
“Okay Mr Hammersmith, I think we’ve got the deal we wanted,” intoned Colonel Rogers.
They were sat in the canteen, yet again, discussing football. That it should come to this – a bloody football match, pondered the Colonel. “We’ve had various idiots from FIFA demanding that they oversee this match but, as we pointed out, this base is technically not part of Earth so they have no jurisdiction over it. They’ve appealed to the UN but it would seem that they have pissed them off as well as the rest of the planet so...”
“I quite understand Colonel,” answered the Headteacher, tucking into another bacon roll – there was something very bad about a bacon roll but, sometimes, just sometimes, you needed to have one.
“Apologies. Anyway, The International School of Colombo have agreed to send two teams in two week’s time. ISC will be sending us a male and female team of various ages and have agreed that there will be no press or big announcement.”
“Which will not stop our friends in the press finding out...” mentioned Mrs Lopez, sipping what she felt was the best coffee outside of Colombia.
“Quite,” replied the Colonel, helping himself to another Yorkshire Pudding. Not as nice as Ruth’s but then they were pretty much perfect. He briefly recalled her sparkling eyes and the knowing grin of her daughter, blushed slightly and continued, “I have to say that their Principal has been extremely helpful. He’s asked their football co-ordinator to assemble a mixed age team who will be competitive without being aggressive. I think he understands what we want. Coach Petr has also discussed the issue with them.”
“Carlita,” interrupted the Headteacher, “You did so well appointing him, he’s been a marvel. I’m thinking a huge pay-rise is in order?”
“I agree Sir, he’s fully deserving of it. Mr James has also been a revelation, I feel.”
“ Of course, but I meant for you.”
“Sir, please...”
Colonel Rogers laughed. He liked these two; they danced well together in their unique roles, whether they knew it or not. The discussion continued through more of the delicious food and drink that the Spanish chef was in charge of – there was another who deserved bonus or two. The woman made something as ordinary as tomatoes seem as if they were the gifts from the Gods. She and Mr James had struck up a relationship seemingly based upon her impression that “That man needs to be fed properly and I’m the best qualified to do it.” No one had argued with her, least of all the teacher concerned. Maybe he would ask her to cook a meal for him and Ruth sometime? Was that unprofessional?
He thought back to his last unprofessional moment – his pathetic attempt to get closer to the spaceship yesterday. He had been told, several times, by the Ambassador that there was a forcefield around the ship and had seen, many times, a guard ‘accidently walking towards it only to be stopped by a sponge-quality invisible barrier that sprang any intruder back two metres or more, resulting in many laughs from the huge array of curious onlookers as they saw a human end up on his arse exclaiming shock and embarrassment.
His own attempt had fared no better, if anything it was worse because there had been the whole crowd of athletes readying themselves for a training session all facing his way. He had noted the looks of satisfaction on the alien children’s faces as they shook their heads in an uncanny resemblance of their human friends. How quickly they learn, he had thought at the time. He smiled despite himself. He had been a muppet thinking that he could do what dozens of others had failed to do here and in Ecuador.
TBT via RelayThree > Gate < Angel: Your analysis of The Test Ship’s internal reconfiguration is interesting for such a low-level AI. What is its explanation?
Angel: It claims that it is not in a position to speculate. Outwardly, it would seem perfectly normal but I have detected a substrate within its Turing Drive that is not responding to the normal protocols. The Ship claims it cannot find this. My concern is increasing, Cousin.
Gate: And with good reason. Home System response?
Angel: Muted. They have sent an investigator but it will not arrive for another six minutes and four hours. They have decreased their threat level by 3% based upon the trajectory and configuration of the Test Ship. My crew are becoming jittery and I cannot blame them.
Gate: We have sent further drones towards Venus, as we are sure you have. We are extremely concerned that something is originating there.
Angel: I am grateful. Stay in touch Cousin.
Chapter Fourteen
“This is absolutely amazing!”
shouted Thia to anyone who could hear in the roar of the noise coming from the hexadecachoron suspended above the pitch. Practically the whole compound were sat in the temporary seating hastily installed the previous day to watch the Manchester United versus Arsenal match, alien style.