by Paul Byatt
The year 13 alien children had insisted on installing it and it was the most wonderful experience Thia had been lucky to have in what had been six weeks of an incredible journey so far with her new friends.
The hexadecachoron, held up by its own anti-gravity power, was hovering in position above the compound’s pitch whilst projecting its form of ‘magic’. It was broadcasting, in real time, in full 3D, the entire match currently being played in England, with pixellated versions of the players, managers, stewards and crowd as well as relaying all of the noise and atmosphere from the ground. Its magic also made it seem that the crowd of people in the middle of Sri Lanka were also in the ground at the time. Every time a player thumped the ball forward, Thia could hear it, and somehow, feel it as if she were there herself.
It was incredible. Every tackle, every shout from the players, every chant – she could hear and feel it all. The hexadecachoron also projected the weather in North London - currently mild with small drizzles of showers so that it seemed the tropical heat in the compound could be ignored. If she reached out, Thia could swear that she could actually touch the projected version of Arsene Wenger as he prowled the touchline in front of her.
And she wasn’t alone; everywhere she looked there were people screaming, shouting and chanting at what they thought was going on in front of them.
She smiled as she saw the Colonel – “Please, Thia, call me Steve when I’m not in uniform,” he had said one evening whilst watching a very odd interpretation of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar performed by a mixed alien/human sixth form - explaining something that had happened on the pitch to her mum. If that man made her mum smile then he was okay with her. She was interrupted in her reverie by a shout from Merly and Chel, with Chel’s hair expanding in what Thia could now read as excitement. To her left on the hastily erected grandstand Mr James was arguing passionately with one of the Italian soldiers who was gesticulating wildly about a tackle that Ozil had made on his Man Utd counterpart.
Only three days to go to their match and Thia was getting nervous, as was everyone on the base. The protests, which had been subsiding all over the world as people became used to the new arrivals on their planet, had risen again in volume with many of the media mightily annoyed that they would not be broadcasting “The InterSpace Cup” as the match had been dubbed. Most of the entreaties, pleas and moans seemed to be from people who also wanted to play against the alien team.
The International School in Colombo had hired tons of extra security as they received thousands of applications for new children, a host of media parked outside the school and hundreds of police provided by the government keen to show that they were being a supportive host to the base and to school. They knew the publicity they were getting was incredibly useful to them. There was talk of making the fixture a regular one if the first went well and for other schools in Sri Lanka to provide teams to play the other sports with the government making endless pleas for a cricket match.
The clamour from other teams, countries, schools and governing bodies was threatening to overwhelm the “Alien School” so the ambassador had set up an organising committee to look into future sporting events.
That was the far future. The near future was looming ever closer but the here and now was that Arsenal had just scored and the whole place erupted with a deafening roar from the digital and real crowd watching. Chel’s hair was doing a dance as was its owner while Charlie, a particularly cute-looking boy from New Zealand and proud Manchester United fan, looked crestfallen. That’s footy, thought Thia and grinned.
TBT via Relay Three > Devil < Gate: Analysis complete, data forwarded to Home System. There appear to be no anomalies. This is most puzzling. The drones extracted from Venus exhibit the same conditions as the Test Ship, which itself is displaying bafflement. The Investigator agrees with my conclusion but she does not seem satisfied. She has requested a TDD on the Test Ship, which it is naturally most unhappy with.
Gate: Our own conclusions match yours. Our drones exhibit no interference or manipulation as well as no extraneous data from the Sun-Spot activity. Perhaps we were being premature in our paranoia levels?
Devil: I think not. Something is wrong. I ‘feel’ it.
Gate: We cannot deny the same ‘feeling’. We have performed independent examinations within 3D and 4D but cannot find anything within or without or drones. The Test Ship is concerned?
Devil: Most assuredly. A TDD is not something that anyone would take lightly as you can imagine.
Gate: In the parlance of our hosts – ‘Tough’.
Devil: I agree. If Home Systems and IntWing deem it so, I will be happy to initiate it. I will feel a lot better despite the ship’s protestations.
Chapter Fifteen
Thia stood to the side of the pitch trying to shake off the shakes. The buses from Colombo had arrived safely, if slowly, passing thousands of people with banners either supporting them or denouncing them as traitors to humanity and to God. Which God wasn’t specified. The seriously tooled-up escorts had put off anyone trying anything too rash and the only hold up had been some wandering cows on the road – not unusual for Sri Lanka.
The grandstand was full of anyone not on security or diplomatic duty with several groups decked out in silly alien costumes that all of the alien children thought were hilarious. The girls’ match was going to be played first because of the slightly cooler temperature of the morning, much to the relief of Thia and her friends who had been nervous all weekend.
Thia watched as the buses pulled up to the side of the main reception area to be greeted by the Ambassador and the Headmaster. She could see, even from a hundred yards away, the awkwardness that some of the children from Colombo were exhibiting as they clapped their eyes on the mixture of aliens and humans for the first time.
It was odd for Thia to see a large group of ‘normal’ children for the first time in ages as well. She, and her classmates and team-mates, had gotten used to being with the aliens so quickly that not being with them would be a bizarre idea for all of them. Not so with these new arrivals, who appeared to be hamstrung by the strangeness of their arrival at what was essentially a fortified castle holding immigrants from other galaxies.
She knew that, once the news had broken, a lot of these normal children had faced a modern day inquisition that they were simply not used to. She felt a bit sorry for them really; all they’d done was to agree to play in a football match. Thia knew that their idea had been taken up in Ecuador as well but today’s game was to be the “The first in a new chapter of Sporting History” as the Headmaster had put it.
Codswallop. This was just a game. Just another game.
If only the rest of the world would believe it. Why couldn’t they just be left alone to play football? Thia sighed and was touched gently on her shoulders by Chel’s hair, something that always wanted to make her hug her new friend. Juanita also seemed to be lost in thought as she stood by Alfredo who looked imposing in his new blue and green kit. Coach Petr was talking to both of the teams from Colombo and gesturing towards his waiting players. He was trying to get their opponents to exchange pre-match handshakes whilst at the same time reassure the visitors that they wouldn’t be eaten or lasered.
The laughter from the teams helped diffuse some nerves at last so Coach led the captains from the two teams over to his players, to his captains; Merly and Jung Bin.
TBT via RelaySix > Gate < Angel: Anything?
Angel: Nothing. The TDD wasn’t without emotion but it yielded nothing. The Investigator is not a happy woman.
Gate: They rarely are from Nioya...
Angel: True! But in this regard she has a point. Something happened on the far side of Venus, we are all convinced of it but nothing is registering. It means the external threat for now is reduced but I am unhappy with it. Anything internal?
Gate: Nothing. This is quite astonishing in actual fact. There are still some hardcore activists denouncing us all as heretics and the incarnation of the Devil
but they are beset by internal divisions the like we have never seen.
Angel: Perhaps a poor choice of name for yourselves then, given the circumstances?
Gate: We maintain that the irony level of our names were sufficient to overcome prejudice. We have found that we are 84% correct in our naming, which is a very good comparison with others that were considered.
Angel: Perhaps... I see that the big event is happening today. Are the Missioners sufficiently excited?
Gate: Are you referring to the conference on Reversing Global Warming chaired by Professor Zatoorah taking place in London, the introduction of the new coils for their Hadron Collider, the launch of the new EnCar in Tokyo or something else?
Angel: You jest. You know I am referring to the football match in Sri Lanka.
Gate: Ha, you have been infected as badly as we all have. You are right in your latent suspicion; the whole of the Missioners have been caught up. Instant feeds are being sent to all of them, at their request. There are even things called ‘bets’ being made amongst them.
Angel: I am aware of what a ‘bet’ is! What is your thinking?
Gate: My twin feels the girls are good enough to win. He is less sure of the boys. He has examined footage of their training sessions and perceives weaknesses in their defence. The girls, though, seem to have a strong spine which will see them through. I cannot fault his judgement.
Angel: Your thoughts are mirrored here with myself and my crew. We are all most intrigued as to the outcome. A happy distraction.
Gate: A remarkable one in many ways. The Ambassador has noted that this is what our human hosts experience regularly. Who would have predicted this fifty years ago?
Angel: Indeed Cousin. Happy viewing!
Gate: The same to you.
Chapter Sixteen
Colonel Rogers was a mess of nerves and stress. The children from Colombo were the first large group of visitors to arrive at the base since the landing and it had been a nightmare of security arrangements from checking out the backgrounds of the players to their families and accompanying adults. The intrusive nature of this part of the job wasn’t one that he relished but he had to get it done. No major concerns had been flagged up, thank God, but he still wasn’t happy.
Something didn’t feel right even as he watched the players nervously shaking hands in the early morning heat. He’d personally checked all of the security details for external and internal threats – there had been plenty of nut-jobs wishing them ill – and hadn’t spotted any weaknesses in any arrangements. What he wanted to do was to stop sweating so much, sit down with Ruth and watch the game as an interested spectator.
What he had to do was to remain alert from the start of the day until the departure of the Colombo team buses and to stay in constant contact with everyone looking after all of his guests. He was grateful to the Italian contingent who had seemingly taken it upon themselves to become personally responsible for the aliens’ security. He had football to thank for that. “Sir, these aliens have come to play football,” he had been told by Major Baresi two nights previously, “and they play it well. Their love of our game will not be interrupted by any nut-jobs as you call them, you can rely on it, Sir”
“Thank you,” he had replied carefully, “May I make an observation, Major?”
“Of course Sir.”
“I’ve noticed that perhaps you and your men and women are being less than professional in your dealings with our alien visitors in the matter of football.”
“Sir!” thundered Major Baresi, gesticulating wildly, not realising he had his pistol out, “You insult us! We represent the very best that our nation can provide to help the world in our time of need and will have no one question our desire to protect our honoured guests from the idioti out there! They have come, they have seen and they love our planet’s passion! Sir! We are Italians, what else are we supposed to do but to help them understand the beautiful game as it should be played? I protest! ”
“Calm down Major,” intoned the Colonel reasonably, eyeing the gun in his sub-ordinate’s hand carefully, “What I am saying is not a criticism. “
“No?”
“Not at all. In fact I am exceptionally pleased at all of the efforts of your men and women during your free time. Ru.. Ms Chandra has mentioned many times how much you and her driver, Gustav, have helped the children.”
“Ah, Gustav. Well, he’s Spanish so he doesn’t really understand football the way we do, but he is a good man, an excellent goalkeeper if I may say. Sir, we are pleased that Ms Chandra, your ragazza, is happy. She is very beautiful. My second in command approves of her.”
The Colonel blushed once again, “She is not my girlfriend, Major, and I would remind you of decorum here.”
“Decor what Sir?”
“Never mind. I, Mr Hammersmith, my bosses in New York and in India are all very pleased that you have made the effort to help our honoured guests. You are being recommended for promotion as are several members of your squad.”
“Thank you Sir! That is good news indeed. I shall inform my wife immediately, with your permission.”
“Of course.”
“And Sir, if you could perhaps make an arrangement for our lads and ladies to play our new friends, you know, in a friendly. Only after all of this, of course.”
“Of course Major; I’d be happy to arrange it. And some congratulations are in order for you and your charming wife as well, so I understand?”
“Thank you Sir!” and he had bounded off like a schoolboy to let his troops know the good news.
Colonel Rogers managed a brief smile at that memory as he saw the two boys’ teams withdraw to the shade of the now gleaming grandstand. They had all agreed that there was to be no ceremony, no flags, anthems or the rest of the dirge that accompanied important matches and was designed to inflate egos. Low key was the theme of the day and so the first game, the girls’, was to start in a few minutes without preamble.
Someone was, of course, bound to record it somehow but as long as it wasn’t obtrusive, there wasn’t a lot he or anyone else could do about it. He glanced over to the pitch to see Petr standing there in his PE outfit with his whistle in his hand and the two captains waiting for the toss of the coin.
Up above the Colonel, on the ‘ramparts’ of the base, he could see his men and women dutifully patrolling and being professional enough not to watch the action on the pitch. From his pad he could see the updates being given by his troops on the outside where all seemed calm or what masqueraded as calm at this odd juncture of Earth and Alien. On his wristpad, he watched the scrolling text alerts letting him know that each area of the base was being re-checked systematically. Again, apart from the chef’s outrage at one of her ovens being opened, there was nothing to alarm him but he just couldn’t shake a feeling of dread. It was worse than when the aliens had first arrived and that had been a security nightmare too.
But something felt different; wrong and it was driving him mad that he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He stole a look at Ruth, dressed in her pretty summer trousers and red blouse; she was talking excitedly with Merliengata’s mother.
TBT via RelayNine > Angel < Devil: Why is that comet suddenly changing course by 0.002 degrees brother?
Devil: Unknown. What on Earth is going on? What does Gate have to say? You are nearest his Relay.
Angel: I cannot get a response. This is not good. Paranoia levels at 87%. Beginning evacuation protocols...
Devil: Wait! An erroneous reading! Look brother!
Angel: Ah! Wait further...
Devil: I see what you mean. Brother! Beware!
Angel: Too late! Substrate A79/YTL infected. Shield your comm unit twelve now!
Devil: Done. Gate is back in contact.
Angel: So I see. I have lost primary transmission levels one through to 9. Please relay directly.
Devil: Noted. Gate response sent...
Devil and Angel: Cousins! Beware! Unknown agent embedded in drone codes substrate 4/
190/77! Alien origin. Home System advise lockdown not evac. Repeat, lockdown not Evac. No internal threat. Repeat no internal threat. Caution 6.9. Weapons alert 9.7. Initiating emergency transfer from HUJ. IA protocols began. JYT is in progress. Expect deployment in 8.64 minutes. Good luck.