by Jo Cotterill
I didn’t know what to think. The vats had been properly set up, and there was no reason for the bacteria to go bad on its own. It looked like sabotage, but why would the colonists deliberately damage their own future? It didn’t make sense. Until Terra 326 had enough water in its atmosphere to make rain, how could they grow any crops? Without surface water, how could they keep the cycle going? Did they want to be stuck inside the dome forever?
At that moment I was tempted to get right back on the spaceship - but I also wanted really badly to figure this out by myself ...
"So, where do I sleep?" I asked the Director.
*
It took a couple of days, but I managed to bring all the bacteria back to health. With the implants, I could see what was wrong with each colony from the light they gave off, and clean up the imbalances. I kept waiting for something to go wonky, but so far, so good.
“But what if it all starts to break down again, when you leave, Kerry Om?” The Director was looking as bad as the bacteria had. “The colonists are still as nervous as kittens. Morale is really low.”
And then I had a brain-wave. It was practically Christmas, right? I started humming the old song: “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas”.
The Director gave a sick smile. “Not much chance of that here!”
“Now that’s where you’re wrong …”
I’d seen my mum do it before on a couple of worlds, as part of the celebrations – all you needed to do was use a different element to make the rain drops freeze. I was sure I could do it too. This first job of mine was going to be a success after all!
“Just get everybody masked up," I said. "The show starts outside in the desert in about an hour!”
*
It was night. I had a big grin on my face - there’s something extra magical about snow drifting down out of a dark sky, and the glow from the dome was behind us – perfect back-lighting!
“Get ready to sing!” I called to the cluster of colonists and shot the freeze element up into the nearest cloud. There was a pause … and then, drifting down in big white bits of fluff, the snowflakes began to fall. And for about 30 seconds, it was just as pretty as it could be …
… until the screaming started.
I looked at the colonists, but they were looking at each other in confusion – it wasn’t any of them! But somebody was under the snow cloud, screaming as if every flake was burning them like white fire.
Without thinking, I flicked on my optical implant … and there he was – a tall thin, pale alien I’d never seen before, right in front of me, banging his hands at the flakes and screaming. His skin was blistering and scorching. My heart tried to jump out of my chest – I did the first thing that came into my head - I ran at the alien and tackled him, rolling him about in the sand. Then I piled the sand over his body and protected his head until the last snowflake had fallen.
His eyes were closed and he was breathing funny. Well, maybe it wasn’t funny for an alien, but it didn’t sound good to me. This guy was badly hurt.
I looked around to see why nobody had come to help. The colonists were all just standing there, staring at me like I was some kind of freak. Then I realised that they couldn’t see what I was seeing.
These aliens must use some sort of light-bending camouflage, so only somebody like me, with my eye implants, could see them. I peered out into the darkness of the desert ... There must be other aliens out there, I thought. Surely he wouldn’t be here on his own?
I stood up. “Please! Come out! Talk to us! Look - he’s badly hurt and I don’t know how to help him - ” I gestured wildly, hoping they would understand.
I could hear the colonists whispering behind me.
“Who’s she talking to?”
“What was all that rolling around in the sand about?”
“She’s gone mad! She was screaming like she was on fire, but it didn’t sound like her voice at all! It didn’t even sound human!”
“And now she’s talking to ghosts!”
The alien on the ground moaned, and the colonists took another step back.
“Look!” I shouted out into the night. “This can’t go on – you’ve got to show yourselves so everybody can see you! If we don’t talk, how can we solve this mess?”
There was a long pause, and then, at last, with a sighing, whispering sound, a crowd of aliens came into focus.
From the gasps behind me, I guessed the colonists could see them now too. Then I heard scrambling, running-away noises as well. The whole lot of them had scarpered back into the dome.
It was just me and the ghosts.
My mouth was dry and my heart was galumphing in my chest.
The aliens bundled the wounded guy away and then one of them – I thought she was probably a female – came up close. Way too close. I did my best not to flinch away.
“Well, evil demon from the underworld?" she said. "You want to talk? Let’s talk.”
I have a translation chip like everybody else, but I could tell it hadn't activated. Her voice was a bit weird-sounding, but she was definitely speaking Standard.
"But - how do you know how to talk like us?"
She shrugged. "We listen. We learn fast. And your language is simple."
They’d been there all along. Their natural light-bending camouflage was so good the colonists couldn’t see them, and their bodies had practically no moisture in them so they wouldn’t show up on scans.
“When the first surveyors came, why didn’t you tell them you were here?”
She stared at me like I was slow. “We would never do that. When alien invaders come, we hide. And then, they go away again. This isn’t an easy world to live on. That protects us.”
I tried to imagine what that would be like. It would be hard to just hide and wait, wafting around the edges like a bunch of ghosts. Humans are a noisy species and we like to change things – make our presence felt! And I always thought that was a good thing. I mean, well, I would, wouldn’t I?
“But you, you demons from the underworld - you stayed and stayed. We learned your language and we listened in to your plans. At first we couldn’t believe what we heard. Why would anyone choose to do anything so hellish to our beautiful planet?”
“We didn't know you were here!” I protested, but she was still talking.
“You were going to drop burning poison from the sky - "
"Hang on!" I said. "We were going to drop water from the sky."
"That's right. Burning poison."
I thought of the poor alien screaming, and shut up.
"We were getting desperate. If the planet couldn’t protect us this time, some of us argued that we’d have to protect ourselves. So we started sabotaging the vats of poison before you could shoot it into the sky. We even attacked the guards. Anything to stop you.”
Well, of course we would be stopping now. It was the end for Terra 326. The rules about terra-forming new worlds were very clear: if anybody was there first, the whole thing is called off.
Poor Mr Director, I thought, and then, I don’t know why, I asked her something that had been bugging me. “Why do you call us demons from the underworld? You know we come from another planet – why not demons from the sky?”
Her face was odd, but I could still read an expression of don’t-be-so-stupid!
“It’s a metaphor! Of course you don’t come from the underworld. No one can come from there. There is nothing there but vast caves of water poison and air putrid with moisture. We call you that because you are trying to kill us with the same kind of poison.”
“WE DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE HERE! When will you get that through your head?!” And then I stopped. “Wait a minute – what did you say?” Could I have heard right? “This world already has water – underground?!”
She shuddered. “Poison. Yes. A terrifying place of huge caverns and underground rivers and lakes – enough to burn every last one of my people to death ten times over.”
“So,” I said, trying to speak cal
mly even though I had this sudden new hope banging about in my chest, “that isn’t a part of your world you use much then?”
“Use it? Are you joking? None of my people would ever go near such a horrible place.”
“Then can we have it?” I blurted out.
*
My first solo job turned out to be a whopper, but I think we’re going to be able to make things work. There was something in the rocks that had blocked the survey scanners, but the caverns under the surface are every bit as huge and wet as she said they were. The colonists have moved underground and started a weather system of their own down there. (Most of Terra 1 is underground now, so it’s what they’re used to anyway.) We’re leaving the surface strictly as it is – dry as a bone and beautiful to the people who were there first. The Old Terran 326ers have shown the New Terran 326ers so many things about this world we had no idea about - and in return? I wasn’t sure what we’d done for them.
“Well, you helped them come out of the shadows,” my mum said when I talked to her about it by link on my way back. “Not to be ghosts any more!”
Is that enough? I hope so. I really do.
Anyway, I’ll be home in time for Christmas!
Puppy Eyes
by Paula Harrison
The burglars came after midnight.
I was sleeping with one eye open like I always do, so I saw the beams of torchlight go whizzing round the shop walls before settling on the door. I pricked up my ears and my whiskers started twitching. With a rattle and a scrape, the door swung open. Two humans crept inside, sneaked past the fish food and went down the rabbit hutch aisle. Reaching the corner, they flashed their torches all around before moving on. They were men - one very tall and the other short with a hairy face. Their eyes glittered in the darkness.
I hunkered right down in my cage, curling my tail around me. I wasn’t going to give them any reason to look this way. If there was one thing I was good at, it was keeping my head down and my nose out of trouble. I’d had enough practice by now.
Most of the animals had woken up - the parrots, the grey rabbits and the guinea pigs. The hamsters hadn’t been asleep, of course. They’d been in that stupid creaky wheel, making my mouth water with their little rustlings. Dozens of eyes blinked in the torch beam, and the guinea-pigs started squeaking.
“Keep quiet!” I hissed at the furry mouthfuls. “They’ll be after that metal money stuff that Mr Briggs puts in the machine on the counter. You’ll see!”
But I was wrong.
The men walked from one aisle to the next, shining their lights into every cage. They stopped when they reached the one next to me – the one with the puppies.
“These’ll do,” said the taller man. “You can get good money for Maltese dogs.”
My fur stood on end. The two puppies had only arrived in the shop the day before and they’d spent most of the time huddled up together in the corner of their cage. They had floppy ears, brown noses and wispy-white coats that looked as soft as a cloud. Their big black eyes, which had seemed so annoying earlier, were now pleading with me. One puppy shook his head and gave a tiny whimper.
“Come here, you,” said the shorter man. Clicking the cage open, he reached in, grabbed a puppy and stuffed him into a brown sack. Then he snatched up the other one and crammed her in too.
Hissing, I bared my teeth. Shame on them for grabbing the little dogs so roughly!
The torch beam swivelled on to me, blinding me for a moment. “It’s just a mangy old cat,” said the taller man. “Let’s go.”
“You have to bark!” I called to the wriggling shapes in the sack. “Bark loudly. Wake Mr Briggs – it’s your only chance.” But the men were walking away and the puppies could only whimper.
I caught a glimpse of their wispy-white fur at the bottom of the dark sack and my eyes began to sting. I must’ve got some dust in them because I had to blink really fast to stop them watering. I knew I couldn’t let these horrible men get away so I opened my mouth and started yowling.
I can do a good caterwaul when I want to. I was sure it would wake Mr Briggs in his flat above the shop. To be honest, caterwauling is how I came to be in the pet shop in the first place. My last owner was kind enough to give me away for free after my nightly songs. I let a thick wail gurgle around my throat before it rose, higher and higher, like a soulful melody.
Clearly not everyone is a music lover.
“Shut it, you! You’re gonna wake the whole street.” The short man with the hairy face thrust the door of my cage open and gripped me round the neck. For a minute I couldn’t breathe. Then he stuffed me in the sack with the puppies and I tumbled over and over, not knowing up from down. All I kept thinking was: this is NOT keeping my nose out of trouble.
The cold struck me and I heard snow crunch under the man’s feet. Then we were set down somewhere and the top of the sack was tied up tightly. An engine started up and we began bumping along. These pet nappers must have put us in the back of their car and now they were driving us to their lair. Spooked by the dark and the noise of the engine, the puppies began squealing and struggling.
“Hold still!” I said, cuffing them lightly. “I’ll try to get us out of here, as long as you quit making that horrible noise.”
The puppies gave me the teary big-eyed look again but at least they stopped squeaking.
“That’s better!” I said. “Now, what are your names? I’m called Pest.” I hadn’t been with my last owner long enough to be named but Mr Briggs called me that Pest of a cat. I guess he thought it suited me. The pet shop hadn’t exactly been cosy but at least no one threw things at me or left my food bowl empty like the place I’d lived before.
“What’s a name?” said the boy puppy, saliva dripping from his little pink tongue.
“It’s who you are. Don’t you have one?” I studied them. “OK, I’m going to call you Dribble.” I turned to his fidgety sister, “And you can be Bouncy. Right, listen up, puppies! These are bad men and if you want to survive you’ll have to do exactly what I say.”
Dribble and Bouncy nodded and wagged their fluffy tails.
“Good,” I said. “Now I’m going to make a hole in this sack so I can work out where we’re going.”
Carefully, I unsheathed my claws and tore the sack neatly before sticking my head through the hole. The smell of stale chips and human feet was overwhelming. We were on the back seat of a car. The sky outside was still dark, and orange streetlamps rolled past at regular intervals. I wriggled out of the sack and placed my paws on the door so I could look out of the window. We were driving down a street lined with shops. Snow lay thickly on the pavement. Bright tinsel hung over the shop doors, and strings of twinkling lights lit up all the human stuff in the windows.
I knew what these decorations were about. Mr Briggs had put up garlands of tinsel in the pet shop too. This was Christmas - a time for the humans to hang up shiny things and do lots of shopping. I’d been dreading it for weeks, ever since Mr Briggs had said to his wife: If no one buys that Pest of a cat by Christmas, she’s for the Chop.
I wasn’t sure what the Chop was and I didn’t want to find out.
The car reached the end of the street and I watched the last shop roll by. Then the streetlamps petered out and we were whizzing past woods and fields all deep in snow.
“We’ll have to stop for petrol,” said the man with the hairy face.
I sprang back into the sack and pulled the material across to hide the rip. This could be our chance. “Stay still,” I told the puppies. Dribble started to whine but a swift tweak of the ear made him stop.
The car slowed down, turned a corner and then stopped. The doors opened and closed. I peeked out and sniffed the air. This was the first piece of luck we’d had. Both men had climbed out and the front seats were empty.
“We’re getting out of here!” I told the puppies, my tail whipping from side to side. “Follow me.” I leapt gracefully across to the front seat and crouched low beside the door. “Get a mov
e on. They’ll be back any minute!”
Bouncy’s tail sank between her legs and her nose quivered.
“Don’t do the puppy eyes again – it doesn’t work on a cat! Now, get over here!”
Dribble came first, his little pink tongue sticking out as he jumped. Bouncy followed, her eyes still big and afraid. “Are we really going out there?” she asked.
“Well, we can’t stay here, can we?” I said, exasperated.
“But what if there’s thunder or rivers or wolves?” Bouncy trembled.
I bit back my sharp reply. The puppies had seen so little of the world. Bouncy probably didn’t even know what thunder or wolves actually were. Maybe it would be easier if they thought this was a game. “Don’t worry - we’re just going to play together,” I told them. “As soon as the humans open this door you have to jump out and chase me. I’m really fast! I bet you can’t catch me!”
A minute later, the door swung open and we all jumped. Landing in thick snow, I sprang forward, my paws stinging from the cold, my ears flat against my head and every muscle straining. The puppies galloped after me, barking cheerfully. Why, oh why hadn’t I told them not to make any noise? I led them across the concrete yard, over some plastic crates and into a small wood. We kept on running and the men’s shouting drifted after us. On the other side of the wood, we wriggled under a barbed wire fence and skirted round a huge ditch filled with snow which would’ve swallowed the puppies whole if it hadn’t been for my swift warning.
“Got you!” Dribble leapt on me, barking with delight.
I had to remind myself to sheathe my claws as I cuffed him. “OK, that’s enough! Stop barking. You have to be absolutely silent.” They could tell from my tone that I meant it.
The men had stopped yelling but they were still following us. I could see the waving torch beams behind us, splintered by the branches of the trees. A jumbled-up line of paw prints led right to where we were standing. What was I going to do about these tracks?
The wind whipped up and a flurry of snowflakes drifted out of the sky. The puppies capered around, jumping at the falling snow. I licked a flake off my whiskers and grinned. If we could find some shelter, this new snow would fill up our tracks and leave the humans with nothing to follow.