Return to Wardate

by Bill Cornwell

  Right now there was another quite serious problem concerning Madeline’s dignity. The male host, Zol, Grayling and Adam all being men didn’t class it as being a problem but the nice and considerate host’s wife took Madeline under her wing and escorted her into her bedroom. The problem concerned the state of her short scanty pink dress. Scanty was now an inappropriate description, revealing was now more apt. The problem with any lacy material is the inability to withstand rough treatment. The struggle in the doorway of the plane had plucked, tugged, torn and deformed the delicate dress into an entirely new off the shoulder, off the… just about everything, look. If any fashion gurus happened to be about, the new design would have been on the shop shelves in a week but this was a place that fashion gurus didn’t know existed.

  After five minutes Madeline emerged wearing a multi coloured chunky home knit jumper, so oversized that it came down to her thighs. A pair of thick black tights completed the outfit. Undeniably, she looked cute, cuddly and gorgeous. Tights were something she had never considered wearing before because of covering her gorgeous legs but psychologically, she felt warm and cosy in them.

  The primitive conditions and basic food certainly didn’t seem to bother one of the richest people in the world.

  ‘Amazing what you can come up with food just from tins and bottles,’ said Zol insensitively.

  Madeline didn’t eat of course, but so as not to offend the hosts, she consumed a modest amount of goulash and red wine. Adam got drunk and Grayling rudely nodded off. The language barrier was virtually insurmountable so conversation almost immediately fizzled out and was taken over by a little Siberian entertainment. This amounted to an accordion played by Mr Host and an accompanying wailing voice from Mrs Host. They called the accordion a bayan and what she sang, a healing song to influence the weather. All very traditional but after several songs, they insisted mainly by gestures, that their guests reciprocated in providing entertainment.

  Zol revelled in the opportunity and surprised everyone by skilfully performing several card tricks followed by a few simple magic tricks. Adam was almost drunk so he insisted in singing a few of George Michael songs – awfully. Grayling was by now snoring heavily so it was now Madeline’s turn.

  ‘Surely I don’t have to sing for my supper?’ she complained quietly.

  ‘Come on, sing something,’ insisted Adam.

  ‘I can’t sing to save my life.’

  ‘Well dance or something – it’s expected here, they don’t have television,’ urged Zol.

  ‘I only have one talent, if you don’t count my weaponry and I don’t think they’re ready for that!’ she said in a loud whisper.

  ‘Just do it or they may throw us out,’ said Adam.

  ‘Okay, you all asked for it… Me - go - get - changed,’ she said and gestured to her hosts.

  They smiled and nodded – you won’t be smiling in a few minutes, she thought. The nearest thing Madeline had to a leotard was her puce thermal suit. She quickly changed in the cold dark hall and returned to the lounge tightly dressed in puce. They wanted entertainment - they were going to get it. Inches in front of all of them she put on an acrobatic, contortion show they would never forget. Her bends and twists went on for ten minutes or so - not a sound was heard from the room except for the seams of her thermal suit tearing as she bent into the most unnatural of positions. Adam, at one stage in the performance, red faced, had to untangle her limbs. Finally the performance came to an end; she bowed and left the room. The lounge was silent, three males were all speechless and the lady host was in a state of shock – she certainly wouldn’t be able to wail for a while. All said and done, it was a nice end to the evening. The hosts had well and truly been entertained as was the tradition in these parts.

  The next morning was even colder, bleaker, cloudier and windier. However, Madeline was an android and didn’t feel the cold especially in her new colourful cosy jumper and thick black tights. She decided to have a stroll around before breakfast – well actually no, she had breakfast whilst she was strolling around. It was an unnatural sight – a beautiful woman with the smoothest of skin and long blonde hair flowing down her back over her colourful cuddly jumper. Her long black covered legs with white leather boots on the ends looked like a couple of magicians wands from a distance. There was no need to wear the customary animal skin coat or furry hood, she didn’t need such protection despite the Siberian chill. It was inevitable that there would be shameful looks from the locals but she ignored the stares and had a pleasant, gentle amble about the place. What struck her was the complete absence of children; none out playing ball games or riding bikes. Apart from the howling wind and scavenging gulls, it was void of all juvenile chatter, hushed of all screams and playful sounds. She thought about it, she hadn’t seen a single child in this world - very odd.

  Of all the places in the world, this was certainly a place on its own. Never before had she come across a location so isolated and so remote that it could be situated on one of Saturn’s Moons. That’s what she liked about the place, her ever growing fame had its downsides but here, they had never heard of her. In their eyes, she was just a hussy, a half dressed floozy. They didn’t know that she’d saved the world several times at great personal sacrifice. They certainly didn’t know she was an android, packed with weapons and powered by a very advanced fuel cell system. They also had no idea that they were just figments of Madeline’s dream.

  Given half a chance she would jump at being a floozy rather than what she really was.

  Chapter 46: Flying blind

  The plane struggled to fire up. Eventually the two turbo props buzzed unevenly making several parts of the fuselage visibly shake. The range of a well maintained Turbo prop Douglas DC03 should be around two thousand miles but this particular Dakota didn’t look as though it had seen a man with an oily rag for years. Zol wisely planned hops of round about fifteen hundred miles at a time. This was his plan: The first hop to a place called Marzypan, then on to Ulika Butter and finally Lukla, Kathmandu. All, except for the last hop, would be approximately seven hour flights. What could possibly go wrong?

  It was a big come down, like downgrading from a Range Rover vogue to an old series one Landrover. On the Learjet, you could whisper, sink in soft leather seats and balance cups on saucers - if you really preferred to drink tea instead of champagne. In this old flying bird, the seats were a kind of hard plastic, in which you had to be tightly strapped in or you’d be shaken out. You had to shout to communicate and if you were unfortunate enough to be human and feel the cold, a thick coat was essential. Madeline gave Adam a kiss and then switched off her senses, retreated inwardly and once again watched something on her entertainment system. It took all of Zol’s and Grayling’s skills to keep the plane in the air, so Adam was all alone. He tried to nod off, meditate, drift off to his special place, read a book and listen to music tracks on his smart phone but failed on all accounts. All he could do was look out of the filthy windows and shiver. Unlike the flights he was used to where the ground below was so far away, absolutely nothing was recognisable, here he could almost see the whites of people’s eyes – if there were any people to be seen. The plane skimmed the bland grey mountain tops and cast its shadow over the barren valleys. Occasionally small settlements appeared below – people always ran out of their small tents, apparently called yarangas, and waved. Adam was amazed that people still wanted to live like this in the twenty first century. Such a primitive, lonely existence, but they looked happy enough - far happier than most people walking down Oxford street – even when the sales are on. So many questions: where did they get their food from, their medicines, their clothes? Did they read? If so, where did they get books from? No mains services, no toilet paper! And then he realised - he’d got used to the noise, the discomfort and the cold.

  Slowly but surely, the greyness of the mountains transformed into the greenery of trees and grass. Finally there was normality, proper roads, cars, trucks, supermarkets and blocks of flats.
There were clear signs that it was no longer freezing and that there may even be a McDonalds or a KFC somewhere below.

  Marzypan airport runway was rapidly approaching.

  All in all, it was a good landing, only two panels fell off and one tyre burst. The plan was just to refuel and then take off but obviously a little bit of maintenance was required.

  Now let’s be clear straight away, this was no Gatwick. The control tower building looked condemned but obviously it wasn’t. The ground staff… there weren’t any and the departure or arrival lounge was basically a burger van and a couple of wooden garden seats. The town was over five miles away so Adam had no choice but to have the Russian equivalent of a cheese burger and Madeline had a suck on her food pipe. The entire airport apparently had one single aircraft mechanic. Zol and his butler knew enough to change the wheel so they let the mechanic check, as best as he could, over the rest of the plane.

  ‘I suppose I ought to be making the most of these final hours with you,’ said Adam.

  ‘This isn’t the end, you’ll be there when I wake up,’ said Madeline reassuringly.

  ‘I’ve told you, that’s a different Adam!’ Adam quietly snapped.’

  Madeline couldn’t argue with his logic. She so wanted to go to bed with him now because she had a strong suspicion that he was right. But there were no rooms about just grass and a few bushes - that would have to do. She took his hand and dragged him off the runway. Zol and Grayling glanced across at them up. They completely approved although naturally they were deeply envious.

  It was a sort of going away present.

  If she failed and couldn’t leave this world at least she had tried her best. Adam knew she had to try. He was just a figment, his world was just a figment, the thistles and wet grass on his bare back was a figment and Madeline’s warm soft skin on his was also a figment.

  Within two hours they were back on the plane, next stop Ulika Batter. Zol hadn’t taken any rest, neither had Grayling. The sun was setting, soon it would be nightfall. Flying at low altitudes over mountain ranges in the dark was never easy in the best of flying machines and this was perhaps the worst of flying machines. Within an hour it was pitch dark. The moon was hiding and the terrain beneath them was typically barren and void of any street lights or vantage points - they would have to fly by instruments. The ‘ground proximity warning system’ (GPWS) and the altimeter were there eyes. The easiest way to fly at night would have been to fly very high, thereby avoiding hitting anything but this plane wasn’t pressurised which meant it had to fly as low as possible to prevent, amongst other things, Adam getting a headache again. As low as possible actually meant quite high, owing to the height of the mountain ranges they were flying over. Zol’s and Grayling’s flying skills were pushed to the limit, eyes glued to the instruments, mile upon mile presumably skimming the tops of the mountains. They could see absolutely nothing out of the cockpit windows but the altimeter was fast on a reasonably comfortable 6000 metres and the GPWS was silent. All but Madeline were already suffering from mild oxygen depravation and the cold. For over an hour they flew without incident and then suddenly a scraping noise came from under the plane. Instinctively, Zol pulled back the stick; the engines roared louder and the plane vibrated even more. He level out at 6200 meters and turned on the feeble plane lights – they didn’t work. He examined the GPWS, it was definitely on but the fault light was dimly glowing.

  ‘Shit, I think we’re flying blind,’ yelled Zol.

  Just at that moment, Madeline entered the cockpit.

  ‘Just been talking to Nuttall - asked me how you’re getting on flying in the dar… Oh my God!’ she screamed.

  Madeline knew nothing about flying a plane except for what she’d seen in disaster movies. She instinctively yanked the stick back as far as it would go. Once again the engines roared and the plane shook.

  ‘You can see?’ yelled Zol.

  ‘Yes, fortunately I’ve got zero lux vision. Nearly went into the side of a mountain.’

  ‘We have to go down… too high,’ gasped Zol.

  ‘We’re well above everything now,’ said Madeline.

  Zol gently pushed the stick forward and reduced the altitude.

  ‘You’ll have to be our eyes. Grayling, let Madeline sit there… Grayling! ... Bloody brilliant, he’s passed out.’ said Zol.

  Madeline selected level 2 explosive motion and carried Grayling into the back.

  Of all the things Zol had seen Madeline do, this was by far the most impressive - even more than last night’s entertainment. A twenty stone man effortlessly picked up and carried by a slither of a woman who didn’t even bother to work out.

  ‘See what you can do with him sweetheart. I’m needed up front,’ said Madeline.

  She plonked Grayling in a seat next to Adam and returned to the cockpit. It was a relatively easy job; all she had to do was say up, up! or UP!! And Zol pulled the stick back accordingly.

  ‘Bloody aircraft mechanic, obviously one of Nuttall’s men. He must have interfered with the lights and the G-P-W-S.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘Ground proximity warning system.’

  ‘So that’s what I am now?’

  ‘Yes, a damn cute one at that!’

  ‘Zol! You’ll have me blushing,’ said Madeline disingenuously.

  Now that Zol had Madeline’s see in the dark, zero lux vision at hand, the flight was pretty much uneventful. They sat there for many a while in silence and then Madeline asked a question.

  ‘You and Nuttall, how did you meet?’

  ‘At Cambridge.’

  ‘That’s a coincidence, that’s where Professor…’

  ‘…Braugenhau went,’ Zol interrupted. ‘We were all there together.’

  ‘She showed me a photo. Now then, where is it…’ said Madeline.

  She accessed the photo from her gallery and examined it.

  ‘Yes, I can see the resemblance now – you and… no, is that Nuttall?’

  Zol continued to find it hard to accept that she wasn’t human. If she just had a few android traits like a ‘robot voice’ or jerky movements or cold staring eyes but she didn’t, she was so perfect in every detail. Being android based, having a photographic memory function was a matter of course.

  ‘We had hair then, lots of it. We were good friends – even in the boat race together. You probably remember it, the one where the Cox fell in the Thames.’ Zol broadly smiled. ‘Can’t blame him for trying to save a world from extinction… and knowing Nuttall, he’s probably getting his own back for what we called him.’

  ‘What, nutty?’

  ‘No, that would have been far too expected, he was always acting the clown, that’s partly why the Cox fell overboard - so we called him Coco.’

  ‘Coco Nuttall…’ said Madeline disconcertingly.

  For some reason, the full name troubled her. She shook off the feeling and continued.

  ‘At least now I know how to irritate him. Anyway, thanks for all you’ve done for me. I know I’m weirdly thanking a figment of my imagination but you are real to me here.’

  ‘I am real! Don’t, for one second, belittle my life here. It goes against every fibre in my body helping you to leave this world… I just know it is the right and proper thing to do,’ said Zol testily.

  ‘Well I appreciate it anyway. I’m deeply sorry for everyone in this world but it’s tough love, I have to get back.’

  That’s all Madeline could say. She had forgotten that not so long ago, Zol was prepared to do anything it took for Madeline to stay. This involved all manner of ruthlessness and violence but fortunately for Madeline, he had had a change of heart. She now recognised him as a man with good virtues - whether Nuttall also had the same qualities was debatable especially after the black fighter jet incident.

  Madeline proved very useful over the next six hours. It wasn’t flying by instruments but flying by Madeline.

  Eventually a glimmer of light came over the horizon, dawn was beginning. Madel
ine’s unique gift was no longer required. Grayling returned to his rightful place and Madeline returned to Adam. He had finally overcome the noise and discomfort and fallen asleep. Madeline cuddled into him, resting her head on his shoulder, she too feel asleep.

  Finally Ulika Batter runway lights could be seen in the distance. The seat belt sign came on – one of the few things that worked. Adam and Madeline woke up together.

  ‘Bloody thief that Grayling, he’s conned me out of eighty quid!’ complained Adam.

  ‘Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll get it back off him,’ assured Madeline.

  ‘I’m pretty sure it was a trick deck of cards.’

  ‘Oh… perhaps I won’t then,’ said Madeline.

  The landing was definitely smoother, perhaps because it was a proper international airport this time. It would have been an absolutely perfect landing too, if the brakes had worked. For a start, it didn’t help that they’d come in a bit steep and slightly over shot the runway. It didn’t help that they had landed without permission either. Their excuse was that the radio didn’t work – which wasn’t a lie, it didn’t, no real surprise there. It wouldn’t have been much use anyway because they couldn’t speak Russian or what ever language they spoke in Ulika Batter.

  As it was an international airport there was an abundance of ground staff, security staff and places where they could lock people up. Madeline was beginning to lose count how many times she’d been locked in small holding rooms. With Madeline’s assets, getting out would be easy but the security staff carried guns and three out of the four of them were not bullet proof.

  Each was interrogated individually: Adam was basically a passenger with a valid passport – they let him go. Grayling was Zol’s butler, he was just doing the job he was paid to do – they let him go. It was Zol’s plane, he had the papers, he had landed recklessly and bypassed all airport protocols but he had lots and lots of money – after negotiations, eventually they let him go too. Madeline was merely a passenger just like Adam but she had no passport so they didn’t let her go. It was highly frustrating, she didn’t want to use her fart gas or go on a stunning spree with her laser finger but time was ticking. There was still a long way to go - nearly two thousand miles to Mount Everest. Locked up in a little grey room was not exactly where she wanted to be - she called Adam on her internal mobile phone for a little advice.