Who Goes Home?

by Sylvia Waugh

  Morning came and they were no further forward. During the night, for at least two hours Steven, Jacob and Vateelin had all slept. Jacob had retired to the armchair when it was clear that there was nothing to see or do.

  He woke up with a start and went over to the desk where his father was lying slumped in his chair. ‘Dad,’ he said accusingly. ‘You haven’t been watching.’

  Steven pulled himself back to the upright and said sharply, ‘If there had been anything to see, I would have seen it.’

  Then they both turned to the screen.

  They gasped at what they saw there. Vateelin was climbing up on to the pavement. Then they saw him jump on to a child’s shoe, clinging to the laces. What was he trying to do?

  Steven thought rapidly. In his position, what would I be trying to do?

  Find my way to Edinburgh.

  Can’t walk all that way.

  Go to a station. Get on a train.

  Jacob watched. His eyes went from one view to the other. The telemicroscope picture gave an excellent view of Vateelin himself, but was inadequate for any interpretation of his environs. The larger view lost the figure of the man but made it possible to understand just where he was and what he might be trying to do.

  Vateelin jumped from the child’s shoe and stood at the side of the road. Steven gently manoeuvred the equipment to keep him in the centre – not easy when Vateelin leapt on to the pedal of a bicycle. Dizzying to watch him as the pedal sped round and around. It stopped. Vateelin jumped off.

  Then came a dreadful moment. Jacob grasped his father’s shirtsleeve, bunching it in the palm of his hand. Steven’s own hands shook as he furiously directed the shield to envelop his charge.

  What had they seen to cause such panic?

  There was a dog, a huge lollopy dog, tongue out ready to lick at the patch where Vateelin was standing.

  Steven drew breath sharply.

  As he paused, Jacob leant right over him and pressed the scarlet button with such force that it screeched.

  Vateelin himself must have seen the dog that was menacing him: he suddenly leapt to one side. At that very instant, a nanosecond flash of scarlet swept over him and he became the size of an ordinary human being.

  ‘It worked!’ said Steven loudly. ‘God knows how, but it worked!’

  It was only after this first reaction that he glared at Jacob. ‘You had no need to interfere,’ he said. ‘I would have managed it myself.’

  ‘You weren’t fast enough,’ said Jacob. ‘Like you said, a split-second slower and he’d have been a goner.’

  The scarlet button looked slightly lopsided.

  ‘I think you might have broken it,’ said Steven icily. ‘I hope it can be mended.’

  With exaggerated gentleness, he pressed a pink slot and the word REPAIR appeared on the screen. The scarlet button wobbled back to normal and Steven gave a sigh of relief.

  ‘So what do we do next?’ said Jacob.

  ‘Your favourite question!’ said Steven wryly, but he gave his son a friendlier look now that the crisis was over. ‘We do nothing. He’ll manage on his own now. He’s big enough.’

  They watched Vateelin walk off down the busy street. They saw people step aside to let him pass. Then they went down to breakfast.

  ‘You work too hard,’ said Lydia to her husband as she poured out the tea. It did not occur to her that Jacob had been ‘working’ too.

  ‘Only when I have to,’ said Steven. ‘Not always. Most of the time, I’m a pretty lazy fellow.’

  Lydia smiled and shook her head.

  It was only much later in the day that Steven thought of the boy, the one who was suffering from shock somewhere. Where was Patrick/Vateelin’s son now? Why have I not been asked to care for him?

  CHAPTER 9

  * * *

  Christmas Eve

  For the next few days Steven had no time to think about Vateelin. He learnt from the television and the newspapers that Thomas/Tonitheen was in Casselton General Hospital.

  In the meantime he was busily engaged in updating a computer program for a client of his, an insurance company enthusiastically computerizing risk factors. Steven had no need of subsidies from the purse of Ormingat. There was one brief interruption to his work that week, when Elgarith, the agent in Marseilles, needed protection, but that took no more than an hour of concentrated attention.

  Then came Christmas Eve. Lydia took all the children to the vigil mass at St Joseph’s. In the old days it would have been a midnight mass, but times being what they were it was now celebrated at eight p.m., after a rousing singsong of all the old-fashioned carols. Beth and Josie loved it and joined in enthusiastically. Jacob sat at the back and stayed silent. The prayers made sense, but he had never been comfortable with all that singing.

  While the family were away, Steven turned to the Brick. He had an uneasy feeling that something was happening that was of concern to him. Into the keyboard he instinctively typed the name TONITHEEN.

  NO NEED TO KNOW. WE HAVE TRACED THE BOY. HE IS IN CASSELTON GENERAL HOSPITAL

  The words on the screen above the Brick sounded dismissive. That irritated Steven.

  ‘That wasn’t hard,’ he said, flicking the transmit switch that enabled the Brick to receive spoken words. ‘He has been in Casselton General Hospital since the crash. Don’t you have anyone watching terrestrial telly for you? And all the newspapers?’

  There was, of course, no spoken answer. The Brick could listen but was not equipped to speak. It was some minutes before fresh words appeared on the screen.

  THE VOICE TRACE WORKED. WE HAD NO NEED OF OTHER PATHS

  Then Steven made a mistake he would come to regret, though he did not know it at the moment he made it. He was simply trying to stir things a bit.

  ‘I would have thought that all that publicity would be a worry to those concerned with security! However, I am just the manipulator of one little protection unit. Who am I to criticize a system that has worked for so long?’

  The screen cleared, like a self-erasing blackboard.

  There was another long pause.

  Then more words, ominous words, though Steven did not know it.

  WE SHALL GIVE MUCH THOUGHT TO THIS

  At that moment Steven heard the front door opening two floors below. He was about turn off the Brick, when more words appeared on the screen.

  RETURN AT MIDNIGHT. PERMISSION HAS BEEN SOUGHT, BUT NOT YET RECEIVED

  Steven put the Brick in place and gave a sigh. Clearly there was no peace for the wicked! He did not even bother to wonder what this ‘permission’ was all about. He had no doubt he would find out in the wee small hours of the morning.

  Downstairs, Lydia and the family had already removed their coats and were going to their rooms to bring down presents for one another, all beautifully wrapped in glossy paper. It had been the custom, ever since the twins had realized that Santa Claus was just a fairy tale, to open all the presents on Christmas Eve and to sleep a little longer next morning. Lydia sometimes missed the whispers and the little voices calling out, ‘Has he been yet?’ whenever she passed the bedroom door. The standard reply was, ‘No, my loves, he hasn’t. He won’t come till you’re fast asleep!’

  After the presents and a little light supper, everyone was supposed to go to bed. Lydia looked surprised when Steven said, ‘I think I’ll wear my new sweater tonight. The computer room can get a bit chilly after the heating goes off. You’d better wear yours too, Jacob. Then we’ll not forget it’s Christmas.’

  ‘Working up there? Tonight?’ said Lydia. She had been gathering up the wrapping papers into bundles, and putting them into a large plastic bag placed ready on the floor. Pausing in this work was as near as she would come to making any protest.

  ‘Just an idea I want to explore,’ said Steven soothingly. ‘And you know how interested Jacob always is.’

  Lydia stooped to pick up a sheet of glossy green paper. If she was annoyed, she did not show it. ‘Try not to be too long,’ she sa
id. ‘Remember Santa won’t come till we’re all fast asleep!’

  ‘Ah, but he’s been already,’ said Steven, taking the bundles from her and thrusting them into the bag. ‘That’s where you made your mistake.’

  He smiled at her fondly as they held the bag between them, shaking all the foil and glitter down into it. The smile asked pardon, and Lydia’s returning smile gave it, albeit reluctantly. She shrugged her shoulders and said no more.

  As soon as the door shut behind them in the computer room, Jacob demanded to know what it was all about.

  ‘Surely they don’t want you on Christmas Eve?’ he said.

  ‘They do,’ said Steven, ‘but I don’t know why yet. I suspect it has to do with Vateelin.’

  Then Jacob forgot that he was a mature fourteen-year-old and said excitedly, ‘What’s happened? Has he shrunk again?’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Steven. ‘I can’t see that button working for him twice. You nearly broke it the first time.’

  He set up the Brick on the table, unfurled the screen and pulled the lever that allowed him to speak to it.

  ‘I am here,’ he said irritably. ‘Get on with it.’

  The Brick answered quite quickly, the words appearing on the screen.

  IT IS ELEVEN THIRTY-FIVE, EARTH TIME. PERMISSION HAS NOT YET BEEN RECEIVED

  ‘Permission for what?’ said Steven.

  BE PREPARED

  Jacob was sitting on the camp stool by his father’s side. He looked at the screen and smiled. ‘That’s not an answer,’ he said.

  ‘If there is one thing you should have learnt by now, my son, it is surely that the machine is stupid when it comes to questions. If the question is the wrong one, or even if it is asked at the wrong time or in the wrong way, no answer will be given.’

  ‘Daft,’ said Jacob.

  ‘And there I absolutely agree with you.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘We wait till it has something to say to us. Thumb-twiddling time, I think. Or if you care to lie down on the armchair, you can go to sleep till something happens.’

  So when the machine flickered into life again, Jacob was fast asleep in the chair, and Steven was once more nodding off at his desk.

  PERMISSION HAS BEEN RECEIVED. NOW IS TIME TO INSTRUCT

  Steven was alert immediately. He flicked the switch on the side of the Brick and said, with a yawn, ‘What time is it?’

  TIME IS TO PLAN TO ESCORT VATEELIN. ZOOM IN ON SPACESHIP. EDINBURGH, BY SCOTT MONUMENT

  Wide-awake now, Steven manipulated the dials, going from a map of Britain, to the area around Edinburgh and then into Princes Street where, at two in the morning, the world was mainly asleep. Jacob woke up at the sound of his father’s movements. He came over and joined him just as the map turned into a picture.

  The finest probe in the system went down into the soil, then right inside the spaceship, where Vateelin was sleeping uneasily.

  At the base of the screen words began to appear, fresh instructions. The picture rolled upwards and away, allowing the message to take its place. A larger screen would have been helpful. These instructions were longer than usual.

  AT THIS TIME TOMORROW NIGHT, THE SHIP LEAVES EDINBURGH. PERMISSION HAS BEEN GRANTED FOR TRIP TO CASSELTON. PREPARE PATH AND KEEP SHIP UNDER VIGILANCE TILL IT REACHES CASSELTON GENERAL HOSPITAL. YOU WILL THEN STRENGTHEN SHIELD AROUND VATEELIN SO THAT HE WILL BE UNOBSERVED WHEN HE GOES INSIDE THE BUILDING TO FETCH HIS SON. THEREAFTER, SHIELD WILL EXTEND TO TONITHEEN ALSO. YOUR DUTIES END WHEN THEIR SHIP LEAVES EARTH

  ‘Big deal!’ said Steven irritably. ‘Very big deal! It will be the trickiest thing I have ever done. Just think of the variations in size and speed. Some Christmas Day I’ll have! I doubt if there’ll be time for dinner!’

  Jacob gave him a look of encouragement. ‘You can do it, Dad. You know you can do it. And you’ll stop for Christmas dinner because Mum would be hurt if you didn’t.’

  Steven gave a phoney yawn. ‘It’s all very well for some,’ he said. ‘You be off to bed now. I’d better get started on those beastly calculations.’

  CHAPTER 10

  * * *

  The Feast of Stephen

  Steven appeared for Christmas dinner and joined in quite successfully, though he had allowed himself only two hours’ sleep.

  ‘I’ll rest tomorrow,’ he said apologetically to Lydia. ‘Time zones make it necessary sometimes to work these odd hours, you know that, don’t you? I mean – have you any idea what time it is now in Japan?’

  ‘Yesterday,’ said Lydia, ‘or, no, I suppose it must be tomorrow!’

  He dozed off in his chair till tea time, but straight after tea he left the table and went off to see to more beastly calculations. Jacob made as if to accompany him, but he raised his hand and said, ‘Not this time, Jacob. You would be bored to tears. I know I am!’

  Jacob went to bed at his usual time, set his travel alarm to go off at half-past one and tucked it under his pillow. That way it would be muffled to stop the sound carrying and he would hear it more quickly himself. He fell into so sound a sleep that when it did ring he did not know what was happening. The clock had found its way to the middle of his bed and was entangled in the sheet.

  ‘Gotcha!’ he whispered as he found it and pressed the stop button. Then he slipped on his dressing gown and went stealthily up the stairs to the computer room.

  ‘Anything happening?’ he asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Steven, ‘but it soon will. Then you’ll just have to watch and be completely silent. I’ve worked everything out, but it will still take concentration.’

  ‘Why do they need you?’ asked Jacob. ‘I mean, spaceships land and take off without your help, don’t they?’

  ‘They need me,’ said Steven, ‘because I know how to control the Brick. And this journey is different and difficult. Most of us who arrive here from Ormingat don’t manage to hit our destination spot on – and it doesn’t matter: mistakes are allowed for. But in this case, it does matter. That spaceship down there has to land in precisely the right place. The Brick is the only thing that can do that, and it needs careful, calculated manipulation to do it with total accuracy.’

  They were looking at the split screen again. The larger view showed the base of the Scott Monument, surrounded by scaffolding and protective hoardings. By the law that governs such irritating coincidences, the Monument was in the throes of renovation. Vateelin had managed to cope with the problem of reaching his spaceship himself, for which, of course, Steven would give him no credit. The smaller view was a close-up of the inside of the ship, where Vateelin was already putting on his sheepskin coat.

  ‘Why is he doing that?’ said Jacob.

  ‘When he reaches Casselton,’ said Steven, ‘he will be leaving the ship for a while. It’s a cold night. He’ll need a coat. That’s all.’

  Vateelin, totally unaware that he was being watched, strapped himself into his seat ready for take-off.

  ‘Now,’ said Steven, ‘not another word.’

  He stared at the Brick and the screen till he could see nothing else in the room, not even Jacob. Carefully he manipulated the controls. The spaceship shot up out of the soil and hurtled high into the air. Steven sped with it over the hills of southern Scotland, across the border and down the coast of Northumberland, where the darkness of the night was occasionally interrupted by clusters of light from some small town decked out for Christmas. Within minutes it was in Casselton. Speedily, Steven switched the other view, which for a time had been almost redundant, to the street map of Casselton, homing in on the General Hospital and dragging the spaceship into line to reach it perfectly. It soft-landed in the hospital car park just as one or two heavy flakes of snow began to fall.

  ‘That’s the hardest bit done!’ said Steven. ‘What comes next is reasonably simple – more our usual line of business!’

  The spaceship disgorged its passenger, rolling him out like a pill. Then he shot up to full size and walked quickly towards the
brightly lit doors that led into the Accident and Emergency Department. Steven intensified the shield around Vateelin, making him not truly invisible, but totally unnoticeable.

  The doors opened automatically to admit Vateelin and closed again after him. He now knew precisely what he must do. His faith in the shield lay in his own belief that he had produced it himself, of his own strong will. He did not question how he knew exactly where to find his son. He simply walked along the corridors in a direction he believed to be the right one and there, at the end of a long corridor, was the children’s ward. Inside the ward, he saw curtains round the bed in the corner nearest the window and he knew at once that his son was there.

  For a time, the curtain around the boy’s bed interrupted their view. Steven gauged that it was not worth attempting to home in further and surmount this obstacle: they would be out soon enough. Then, as expected, father and son emerged hand in hand and walked quickly out of the ward, along the corridor, through the A&E waiting room and out into the snowy night.

  ‘Where has he left his coat?’ said Steven as he saw that Vateelin was in shirtsleeves. The logic said he must have left it on purpose. And if left on purpose it must be meant as some sort of message. ‘What a stupid, stupid thing to do! Here I am working my guts out to get him safely and inconspicuously away, and he does a daft thing like that!’

  Jacob did not need to ask why. They were all, he realized, part of a secret service. Leaving the coat was a clear breach of security.

  ‘You’ll have to put that in the report,’ he said. Jacob by now knew all about Steven’s ‘reports’. They had to be made out for every action taken using the protection module. He kept them so brief that from time to time the word ‘ELUCIDATE’ would flash up on the screen.

  Steven grimaced. ‘I suppose so,’ he said reluctantly. ‘Though it might be inviting trouble where none is needed.’

  He did not know, of course, what trouble his own unguarded remarks to the cube had already set in motion. He should never have directed attention to Earth’s newspaper and television accounts of the crash, no matter how irritated he felt. It would have been much safer to leave the cube secure in its smugness.