by J. J. Green
Turning smoothly from the window and fixing Carrie with her wide, brown doe eyes, Apate replied, “Carrie, darling, it’s very simple. Once I could travel to any place in the galaxy my heart desired. I had only to book passage on a starship. All of that changed when the Unity objected to our rule and confined us to our home world. For the last several millenia all I’ve known is Dandrobia, and it isn’t enough. Earth is different.” She returned to looking out of the window. Her hands rose to her face and her shoulders began to shake.
Neither Carrie nor Dave knew what to say. After a few moments the alien spun round, trailing an arm dramatically. “But I mustn’t burden you with my troubles, my dearest Carrie. None of them are your fault, and they are not within your power to resolve. I must bear them bravely. No doubt they are thoroughly deserved.”
Finding herself wondering just what the dandrobians had done that was so bad, Carrie pulled herself up sharply and shook her head. Being around Apate was like being tipsy. She could not quite think straight. She grimaced at Dave, who rolled his eyes. “Rogue,” she exclaimed. The dog had lifted his lips, bearing his teeth.
Apate looked at Carrie’s pet with alarm and edged away from him. “We engineered all animal species on Dandrobia to be harmless. Your Earth animal is rather frightening.”
“Rogue!” The dog settled down but his eyes remained on the dandrobian. Carrie shook her head and tutted. Looking at her kitchen clock, she saw she had five minutes until Errruorerrrrrhch opened the transgalactic gateway. She picked up her Transgalactic Council Officer’s toolbox and slung it over her shoulder.
Seeing Carrie’s action, Apate said, “I don’t suppose there’s the teensiest chance I could stay just a little longer?”
Carrie opened her mouth.
“No, there isn’t,” Dave said.
Apate glanced at Dave and took a beat too long to reply, though her sweet, pleading expression remained the same. “Of course not. It was very wrong of me to ask.”
“You’ll need to move out of the way,” said Carrie. “The gateway’s going to open just where you’re standing.”
“Oh, is it?” She looked down. “Here?”
“Yes, there,” said Carrie. It was odd that Apate didn’t remember where she had come through from Dandrobia the evening before last. Or maybe she did remember. Carrie tightened her grip on her bag. She looked at Dave. He gave her a barely perceptible nod. Apate stepped away from the cupboard and into a corner. As the minute hand on the clock reached twelve, the cupboard door began to glow green.
“Here it comes,” said Carrie. “Get ready. You go through first, and I’ll follow.”
Apate did not reply.
The door flew open, revealing the swirling green mist. She gestured to Apate, indicating to the dandrobian it was time for her to step up. But the alien remained where she was, her back against the kitchen wall, her lips set.
“Apate,” said Carrie.
Her arms folded in front of her, Apate closed her eyes. She gave a slight shake of her head.
“Apate,” exclaimed Carrie. There were only moments until the door would close and she would have to explain to Errruorerrrrrhch why she had not gone through.
Once more the alien shook her head. She took a step towards the kitchen door, and Carrie darted across to grab her. She managed to get her arms around Apate’s waist, but the dandrobian was large and strong. Though Carrie stopped her from leaving the kitchen, she successfully resisted her attempts to drag her over to the gateway. Dave joined Carrie, gripping the alien’s arms, and Rogue also joined in the fray, barking and leaping around the struggling figures.
The two humans and one alien wrestled. Carrie slipped a foot behind Apate’s knee and managed to unbalance her so that, together, she and Dave succeeded in moving her nearer the green mist. Its attractive force tugged at Carrie’s hair.
“Apate, you have to leave with me, now,” said Carrie between her teeth.
“I can’t go back there,” exclaimed Apate. “I won’t.”
“Yes you bloody well will,” said Dave.
“Rogue,” shouted Carrie. The dog was dangerously close to the cupboard and the pull of the gateway. The door began to swing closed. Carrie leapt and grabbed Apate round her neck and waist, trying to twist the alien towards the open cupboard. She bent down, then with a great heave she rose again, throwing off Carrie and knocking Dave flying. He sailed across the kitchen and crashed into the table, scattering breakfast cereal and milk over the floor. Carrie flew in the opposite direction and into the mist.
As she was sucked under her sink, Carrie heard a dog’s yelp and felt a familiar hairy body. Apate was not coming with her to Dandrobia, but Rogue was.
Chapter Twelve – Double Trouble
Rogue and the familiar cushions made a soft but slightly smelly landing for Carrie when the green mist deposited her once more in the receiving hall on Dandrobia. After leaping out from under her, Rogue ran through the legs of the waiting dandrobians to the corner of the room, where he sat with his tail between his legs.
Carrie staggered upright and turned to the gateway, which was fading quickly. She was not surprised when Apate didn’t appear. The last glow petered out, and she turned to the aliens standing about in their jewel-coloured robes, surveying them with new, distrustful eyes. She was beginning to understand through Apate’s behaviour that there were depths to this species she had not penetrated. Her expectation that they would be controlling and aggressive had misled her. Dandrobian methods were subtle. Their history of taking over the galaxy suddenly made a lot more sense.
“Welcome back, Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer Hatchett,” said a male dandrobian with shoulder-length chestnut hair and amber eyes. He was tall even for one of his species, 240 or 250 centimetres, Carrie estimated. His fellows were distractedly and anxiously glancing at Rogue.
“Thank you,” said Carrie, straightening her jumpsuit. “I’m sorry about my dog. He got drawn into the gateway because...” She paused. Had they noticed Apate was missing and guessed where she had gone? “He was startled and jumped through by accident.”
“Oh, an Earth animal isn’t a problem, dear. Don’t worry about it,” said a curly-haired female dandrobian, though she did not take her eyes off the panting Rogue. “We’ll...er...look after him for you.”
“No, no, that’s fine. There’s no need. He’ll stay by me. Here, Rogue, come here.” The dog trotted to Carrie’s side, travelling in a wide circle to avoid the dandrobians, who backed away as he approached. He sat at Carrie’s feet.
“Thank goodness you’re back,” said another male. Putting his hands together in supplication, continued, “You must help us. What the squashpumps have done is simply dreadful. Please make them leave. It’s only the beginning of the persecution, we’re sure of it. We need protection, or to be allowed to escape to another world.”
“This is not the appropriate time, brother,” said the chestnut-haired dandrobian. He turned to Carrie and smiled. “My name is Notos. I’ll escort you to your retiring room.”
Notos? Like Apate, the name was familiar to Carrie. “No, thanks, I don’t need to rest. If the squashpumps have calmed down let’s move straight on to the meeting.” She wanted to get back and sort out the problem with the escaped dandrobian as soon as possible. Though the alien and Dave were effectively frozen in time while she was away, the situation was worrying. She wasn’t sure how she was going to explain to Errruorerrrrrhch why she needed another gateway to Dandrobia when her mission was complete—she supposed she would just have to confess what had happened—but until then she had a job to do here, and if she did it well, perhaps her manager wouldn’t think too badly of her.
“Whatever you say, darling,” said Notos. “We’re all keen to have this over with so those awful squashpumps go home, aren’t we?” He turned to the others for confirmation, and his fellows nodded and murmured in agreement.
Rogue trotting obediently at Carrie’s side, they walked out onto the mos
sy, springy green sward. As they left the complex of buildings, however, they took a different direction from the one they had followed before.
“Aren’t we going back to the meeting platform?” Carrie asked Notos.
“Oh no, it’s much too windy there. We can’t risk another unfortunate accident.” He rolled his eyes and smiled. “We’re holding the meeting indoors this time. There’s a hall adjoining the library that’s large enough.”
“The library?” Carrie remembered the building from her last visit. She loved libraries. Maybe she could take a peek inside this one before she returned to Earth.
They approached the building and passed through a wide doorway into a large, brightly coloured room, filled by an oval table surrounded by chairs. Sunlight poured through high, open windows. At one end of the room was a closed door. The squashpumps had, as before, arrived early, and they were sitting around the edge of the table. Many had already reared up and sprouted tentacles, rainbow hues pulsating across them.
As she neared the squashpumps, her translator caught and transmitted their Scottish-accented voices. They were squabbling about something but she could not quite make it out. Their tentacles were waving in agitation.
“I’m the Foreign Secretary,” said one voice, louder than the rest.
“No, I am,” said another.
“No, it’s me,” said the first voice.
“The original should retain the position, it’s the law,” piped up another squashpump.
“Which one of you is it?”
“It’s me of course.”
“No it isn’t. I’m the original.”
Carrie sat down at the table and placed her bag on it. Notos sat beside her and leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t mind them, my dear. They’ll sort themselves out in a minute.”
“What’s the problem?” Carrie asked in a low tone. “Have they sent two new Foreign Secretaries by mistake?”
“New ones? Oh no. That’s the one you met.” He pointed at a squashpump that, to Carrie’s eyes, was indistinguishable from the rest. “Or that one is.” He pointed to another and smirked. “Actually, I’m not sure myself.”
Carrie’s eyes grew wide. “But...?”
Notos chuckled. “You thought the old one was dead? No, no, no.” He shook his head, smiling. “No, when you cut one in half, they grow into two new individuals.” He put his hand to his mouth and whispered, “Makes them damned difficult to conquer, let me tell you.” He winked and leaned back. “But don’t worry, those days are over. Anyway, the regenerated head end is supposed to be the original. But the tail end usually has a go at usurping the position.”
The arguing squashpumps began inching across the table towards one another.
“What are we going to do?” asked Carrie. “We can’t hold a meeting with two Foreign Secretaries, especially if they keep squabbling.”
Rogue put his paws up on the table and watched the squashpumps eagerly, his nose snuffling and his tail wagging. The dandrobians eyed him and edged away.
“Don’t worry, my love,” said Notos. “They’ll resolve the problem eventually. They always do.”
The assembled dandrobians were chatting amongst themselves, like Notos, seemingly unfazed by the Foreign Secretaries’ disagreement. Around the table edge, the stalks on squashpump heads were drawing in and the colourful shades were fading to grey. The Scottish voices lapsed into silence.
Carrie wondered if the Foreign Secretaries were going to fight it out. But how would they do that? When they had attacked the dandrobians, they had squeezed themselves into the aliens’ orifices and taken up residence in their brains. Squashpumps didn’t seem to have any noses or ears or eyes. There was just one hole among the stalks, which she thought was probably a mouth.
One of the approaching Foreign Secretaries bunched its body up into a low mound of folds, preparing to spring. Carrie held her breath. The other Foreign Secretary was not slow to respond. It also halted and squashed its body into a flat, thick cylinder.
It’s a little bit like tiddlywinks, Carrie thought.
The dandrobian conversation stuttered to complete silence. All eyes were on the adversaries now. Rogue gave an excited bark, his tongue lolling. As if the bark were a starting pistol, the Foreign Secretaries sprang simultaneously into the air and flew in neat parabolas towards each other. Whatever happened next took place too quickly for Carrie to see, but the result was that only one very fat squashpump fell with a squelch to the table.
The silence continued as the remaining Foreign Secretary composed itself before gliding slowly back to the table edge. For some reason, Carrie wanted to applaud, but the other squashpumps made no sound. With a start, she realised everyone was watching her, waiting for her to speak. She cleared her throat.
Chapter Thirteen – Rogue in Disgrace
Carrie wasn’t good at meetings but she did her best. Trying her hardest to concentrate, she affected a facial expression that she hoped radiated an intelligent, contemplative interest in the conversation. In truth, her eyes were often on the closed door, wondering if the library was behind it, or on the door to the outside, which had been left open. The rolling, flowery hillsides shining in pink-tinged sunlight seemed to call to her.
The points of agreement the dandrobians and squashpumps had achieved before the unfortunate accident with the Foreign Secretary were not much altered. The wording of the formal apology that the dandrobian representative was to state at the next Unity convention had been decided long ago. Neither side proposed a change to the statement, and the meeting moved smoothly on to the matter of the infected dandrobians. After some debate, the squashpumps agreed that as soon as reparations for invasion and occupation were received from the dandrobians, all squashpumps would withdraw from dandrobian brains.
They moved on to the final point, the amount of reparations. Carrie had hoped this would be a formality, but the squashpumps had a different idea.
“We propose an increase of 0.5 percent in consideration of the harm caused to my person at the previous meeting,” said the new (or old) Foreign Secretary.
“Half a percent?” a willowy female dandrobian drawled. “Honestly, darling, you can’t be serious. It was an accident. It was a little puff of wind that sent your column toppling. How could we be to blame for that?” She spread her arms wide.
“It’s out of the question, dearie,” said a moustachioed dandrobian. “We can barely afford the reparations as it is. In fact, the truth is we can’t afford them. You squashpumps don’t seem to understand. We don’t have any technology, and we aren’t allowed to trade with anyone else. We’re really very poor now, you know. We’ve had to pay back so much over the years.”
Dandrobian heads around the table nodded. “Hmm, yes, can’t afford it,” they murmured.
“Och, stop exaggerating,” said the Foreign Secretary. “My people were terrorised, enslaved and imprisoned. D’ye no mind that?”
“Oh, of course we do, my love. And we’re very very sorry, aren’t we everyone?” asked the willowy dandrobian.
Her fellows nodded again vigorously. “So sorry,” they said. “We really, truly are.”
“But we can’t give you what we don’t have,” added the dandrobian with the moustache.
The Foreign Secretary tsked.
“And it was only a little tumble,” added Notos from Carrie’s side. “You seem very well now. You look wonderful, in fact.” He smiled brilliantly at the Foreign Secretary, who seemed to swell a little with the compliment.
But the other squashpumps were not swayed. “Half a percent, half a percent,” they chorused, their tentacles waving in agitation.
The dandrobians sighed, rolled their eyes and pulled faces. “But we don’t have it,” they said, and, “It’ll be very difficult for us as it is,” and “We’d love to say yes, wouldn’t we, dears? But it simply isn’t possible.”
Carrie’s ability to pay attention to this apparently endless back and forth about an extra half a per cent waned quickly.
Rogue had fallen asleep. She fought down a yawn and waved a hand for some silence. “What about a quarter per cent, or an eighth?”
The squashpumps were having none of it. The ‘half a per cent’ chant grew louder as more squashpumps joined in, the shrill voices echoing in Carrie’s head. She put her hands over her ears, but it made no difference to the volume because the translator was broadcasting in her mind.
She was wondering what to do to regain some control when a silence fell. The squashpumps turned to the open doorway. A horse was standing there, its head peering around the door frame. Carrie’s breath caught in her throat. The horse was milky white, with a long, soft mane and brilliant blue eyes. It was the most beautiful animal she had ever seen.
“Oh for goodness sake,” said a dandrobian. He went to the horse and shooed it. “Go away you silly beast.” The horse lifted its head and snorted before turning away and disappearing. The thud of its hooves on the turf grew fainter as it departed.
Carrie turned amazed eyes to Notos. “Wow, that—”
“Half a percent,” squealed a squashpump.
Notos whispered in her ear, “Maybe you should suggest a break?”
“But...” Carrie’s mind was lingering on the horse, and it took her a moment to understand what Notos was talking about. “Oh, of course.” She stood up. “Let’s have a short recess while we collect our thoughts.” The dandrobians began to file out of the room, and the squashpumps inched down the table legs. “Please stay in the vicinity so you can be called when the meeting reconvenes.”
As the aliens left Carrie remained in her seat, unwilling to disturb the sleeping Rogue, who was lying across her feet. She wondered if she should contact Errruorerrrrrhch for advice about dealing with the impasse, but that would be admitting defeat. She wanted to succeed at this alone. All she had to do was to persuade the squashpumps to drop their demand or convince the dandrobians to agree to it. Half a per cent extra reparations did seem excessive, considering that it was an accident and the Foreign Secretary was no worse for his experience.