by J Battle
If Masters was to receive his just reward for his crime, Jim was convinced that he couldn’t rely on the state. He would have to do the job himself. So he trained himself in the use of weapons and explosives; in martial arts and computers. He tracked all of the gang members and put auto tracers on their social media uploads. He did the same with their wives and the police and court officers who had been involved in what he saw as a lenient sentence. He developed a detailed picture of the world Masters would come back to.
When Masters was released, he was ready. And, despite the two failures, he wasn’t going to stop. He would stop when the job was done; when Masters was dead.
After the run, and a long hot shower, he sat down to a snack of his mother’s cherry scones. Although he shared the same building with his mother, he maintained that his rooms formed a separate apartment, so, technically, he wasn’t living with his mother.
As he munched, he scanned the updates on his holo-screen. Why criminals would allow their ‘phones to upload their current locations to public social media sites was a mystery. Perhaps they didn’t appreciate the ramifications, or simply didn’t know how to disable the feature. He could see that Deed and the others were meeting at the hospital, but he couldn’t trace Masters; he was far too smart for that.
He really wanted to know if Masters was there, so he accessed the local surveillance cameras. He set a couple of face recognition programmes running and finished off the last of the scones. He was considering popping downstairs to root out some more, when an image of Masters flashed up, showing him approaching a large white building.
Jim watched him swagger towards the entrance, and his appetite left him.
Chapter 16 – Then the snatch
James Johnson, or JJ as he liked to be called, left the office at the end of a long fruitless day. He had spent all of the day trying to find something that would impress his boss; anything to make him stand out from the rest of the workers as the perfect candidate for promotion.
The best he had come up with was a new way to file paperclips, and no-one had seemed at all impressed. Even young Henry had failed to do more than shrug, and he was always amazed when the Sun came up in the morning.
To make things even worse, just before the end of the day, Haddon had brought out his new spreadsheet tool that would save everyone time and the company money. With his extra-smart clothes and cultured accent, he was going to get the promotion; there was no doubt about it.
So JJ decided that he deserved a quick pint or two; the first just to relax him before he squirted home, and the second, a slower pint, to delay his return home to the inevitable postmortem on his many, many deficiencies.
His work local was just around the corner, so he strolled down the street, not paying much attention to the road.
When a white panel van pulled up beside him, it took him a couple of seconds to notice the guy at the window.
‘Sorry?’ he said, when he realised that he’d missed a question.
‘How do I get to the A6 from here?’ the driver repeated himself; speaking very quietly.
JJ stepped closer to hear better.
‘The A6?’
‘Yes. It’s on this map, but I can’t see an obvious route.’
JJ bent until his head was level with the driver.
‘It’s quite simple, you just...’
The bag that was thrown over his head was something of a surprise. As were the strong arms that grabbed him and began to drag him towards the back of the van. He was a big man and he did his best to resist, but he was not at all fit and the blow to his stomach left him helpless to prevent them tumbling him into the van.
‘This is...’ He wasn’t sure what it was, he just knew that he didn’t like it.
Then he felt a sting on the side of his neck and his weak protests died away.
The van drove him from the town centre, along the A6 to Levenshulme, to a large white building, and down into its underground car park.
When consciousness revisited him, he was strapped into a heavy chair in a bright spacious office. The unusual sunshine glared into his eyes and it was some time before he realised that he was not alone; that there was someone sitting behind the desk.
‘Who..? Where..? Why..?’ Obvious questions.
‘Hello, Mr. Johnson; James. We’re sorry we had to be a little rough with you, but we didn’t have time to attempt to persuade you to come of your own will.’
The speaker was a tall, lean man with dark hair and immaculate nails; he studied them as he talked.
‘What do you want with me? I don’t have any money.’ JJ went for a forceful bluster.
‘We don’t want your money. In fact, if you are co-operative, there will be a good deal of money coming your way.’
The man stood up, and walked around the desk until he was very close to JJ. He could smell his moisturiser and see his own face in the guy’s shiny shoes.
‘If you don’t co-operate, there will be deaths. Believe me on that. Not just yours, though you will be the first. Next we will visit your delightful wife; Mary. It won’t be a pleasant visit, and when it is finished, she will also be dead. You parents are still alive, aren’t they? For now, at least.’
He walked back to the desk, and planted his skinny buttocks on its edge.
‘Now that the unpleasantness has been dealt with, I hope we can move on and not talk about it again. How does that sound?’
‘I don’t know what you want. ‘
‘It’s quite simple. I want you to go on a journey. It’s a one way trip, I’m afraid, but that doesn’t mean it has to be bad; does it?’
‘Where?’
‘We’ll come to that in a moment; it’s hardly relevant. Before you go, you’ll have to undergo some basic visage modifications; nothing too drastic. We just need you to look like someone else. You might even find that the change makes you more successful with the ladies. In any case, it’s a non-negotiable part of the deal.’
He smiled at JJ and examined his nails again.
‘How does that sound?’
‘I still don’t understand what you want.’ JJ wriggled in his chair; it was not a pleasant sight.
‘I’ll put it in simple words, if that’s what’s required. You will leave this building, when your appearance has been changed to match that of another, and squirt to a planet of our choice. You will stay on that planet for the rest of your days and, as payment, you and your quite delicious wife, and your poor parents, will be allowed to live, and there will also be a considerable financial inducement. Does that cover all of your questions? Or is there something else you feel the need to know?’
JJ closed his eyes for a moment. Was this really happening?
‘Why?’ he said, at last.
‘Why? I’m afraid that’s privileged information. It’s on a need to know basis, as they say; and you don’t need to know.’
He smiled then, and JJ felt a cold chill run down his back.
Chapter 17 - Then nothing
Twenty-one planets had been opened up by the strange, hardly understood miracle that was Fool’s Squirt technology. Planets that otherwise might have taken mankind thousands of years to reach; if the journeys were even possible at the snail-pace required by speed of light restrictions.
Far more than these twenty-one had been visited, of course. Over the fifteen years since the process was perfected, more than a thousand planets had been investigated. Most of those were unsuitable for a host of reasons, even though they were all situated in the supposed Goldilocks zone; not too hot, and not too cold; just right. On many, the atmosphere was not just right, or there was insufficient surface water; or too much water. There was no need to consider terraforming these planets, as there was always somewhere else with a better chance of providing the good life.
Two days after the departure of Mr. Masters, that day’s probe set off for a planet orbiting a star some fifty or so light years from Earth. The Intergalactic Search and Settlement Bureau had a fine-tuned system th
at resulted in daily probes being sent to promising planets to seek out future potential colonies.
Each day a semi-sentient probe was squirted to the target planet to investigate its viability as a host for mankind’s expanding billions. If things looked good, then a human team would be sent to set up a base and provide a comprehensive report. A positive report would lead to a larger scale landing party, which would live and work on the planet for a full year.
The ensuing report would be studied and, if no drawbacks were found, the place would be opened up for settlement; both voluntary and imposed.
The probes were not armed in any way.
In the words of Magnus Sheckle, the founder of the ISSB: ‘We don’t want our first contact with another intelligent race to be a shooting war.’
The only defense the probes had was their built-in squirt capability. If they found themselves in any dangerous situation, they could squirt back to the safety of Earth in a matter of seconds.
On the day in question, the probe left as usual, with no fanfare or ceremony. In fact, no living person was there to see it go; although it was recorded by the ever present CCTV.
The probe was never heard from again.
Chapter 18 – Then the big squirt
I may have mentioned that I wasn’t very happy to be in the squirtbooth with Strange. To be honest, I wouldn’t have been especially happy to be anywhere with him. The whole situation got much worse when I realised that we were going to squirt together.
(To give you an idea of the calibre of person I’m dealing with, Phil had been sitting in the booth with Strange for nearly fifteen minutes before he was able to make this quite remarkable intellectual leap. N.F.) I’d seen The Fly and I didn’t like the idea of swapping cells with Strange; I quite like my cells the way they are, and I didn’t want his bullying mine.
‘Can’t we go separately?’ I asked, over the hum.
‘Solo squirts cost more.’
‘I prefer to go solo.’
He looked away and sighed.
There was a quick flashing of the lights and a short burst from a claxon. Then it was all over and we were suddenly a very long way from home.
I let Strange leave first whilst I took a moment to confirm that I really was myself; I checked the mirror to see if I still had my sunny smile and that I was no taller than when we left our lovely planet. Everything seemed to be as it should be, so I followed Strange out into the concourse.
It was a large room, with small groups of people dotted about, and over-expensive vending machines offering to fulfil all human needs; it could have been anywhere on Earth. I had the sudden thought that it was all a con and that we’d travelled only locally; that interstellar travel was the stuff of dreams; that I could soon be tucked up in my own comfy bed.
Then Strange threw his bag over his shoulder and strode towards the exit and reality fell on my shoulders like a pile of wildebeests.
I trotted after him, trying not to appear as if I was rushing. Then I had to go back for my bag. He was gone before I got anywhere near the exit. There was no customs desk, or any impediment to just walking through; so that’s what I did.
Now, I know this was an alien planet, with all sorts of remarkable new experiences available to me, but the thing that hit me first was the smell. I might have expected the scent to be made up of all sorts of exotic fauna and flora; with the smell of an unknown sea, with the grit from an unclimbed mount range, or maybe the sweet aroma of a giant exotic orchid; or maybe the sky would be turquoise.
But all I can say about my first impressions of this new planet was that, unfortunately, wherever you may be in the Universe, I think I’m safe in saying that cow manure always smells the same.
The human population of OK was less than one hundred thousand; the bovine population was over twenty million, and rising all the time. Those burger joints take some filling.
The Squirtport building squatted alone at the end of a long dusty road. Cube-shaped and white; it could have been dropped from on high; maybe it had.
The land nearby was green and luscious, rolling gently away towards the distant hills. The summits of the hills were dusted with the shadowed forms of trees, and a river could be seen in the middle distance, running parallel to the road. Between the river and the hills, there were perhaps a couple of thousand cattle, resplendent in their mottled coats and masticating equanimity.
(At last they let me do a bit of description. People don’t like descriptions, they said. But, it makes a difference; don’t you think? N.F.)
After a couple of minutes enjoying the scenery, I decided it was time to find Strange. I might not have liked him, but he was all I had. A couple of hundred metres from the Squirtport, a string of low buildings began, continuing along the road for quite some distance.
When I reached the first building, which appeared to be some sort of stable, going on the noises from inside, I could see that the road ahead was empty. I didn't want to get involved in an interplanetary game of hide and seek with him so I just called out his name, trying not to sound petulant, or desperate. I waited for a second, and then the large wooden door to my left swung open.
With considerable snorting, mostly from the horse, Strange rode out on to the road on an impressively large brown horse. With a practiced flick of his wrist he persuaded the beast to swing round and face me.
‘Really?’ I asked.
‘It’s the only way to travel here.’
‘But, I don’t ride,’ I protested.
‘Don’t worry. Your ride is coming now.’
I turned then to see what manner of creature I would be riding.
‘What! You expect me to ride a donkey!’
‘It’s not a donkey. It’s a mule.’
‘It looks like a donkey. Why can’t I have a horse?’
‘The mule is more economical. It’s a far better animal for our needs than a horse.’
‘You ride it then.’
‘I need the bigger animal to carry my weight.’
He jerked his reins and began to trot along the road. I turned to the mule. It had its head to one side and avoided my eyes; I could see why it might be embarrassed. It was broad and squat, and it couldn’t seem to make up its mind about what colour it was. Parts of its coat were dull brown, other parts were shiny red, and some parts just didn’t fit any palette I’d ever heard of.
‘Can I at least have a saddle?’ I called into the stable’s dim interior.
‘He doesn’t take to the saddle,’ a croaky voice replied. Then a smelly old horse blanket was thrown at my feet. ‘Try that.’
I picked up the blanket and looked at the Mule. Then I looked over to Strange, disappearing in the distance on his magnificent beast.
I wanted to go home.
I threw the blanket over the animal’s broad back and slung my bag over my shoulder; that was the easy bit. Then I had to work to how to get onto its back myself.
‘I’ll take your bag for you, Sir.’ The croaky voice interrupted my considerations. ‘Mr. Strange said you’d handle the booking of the room.’
‘We’re staying in a stable?’
‘No, the hotel’s next door; you can just walk through.’
He emerged into the light. If you put grizzled into any search engine, his face would pop up. He was short and round; a little stooped, with teeth that had no place in the middle of the twenty-first century, and he was wearing dungarees. Across the centre of his ruddy face was a silver device that looked as if a butterfly had collided with his nose and refused to let go.
He saw me staring and chuckled.
‘It’s a filter; to stop harmful indigenous bugs getting inside me. You better get yourself one; you don’t want to wake up with three legs. ’
‘Does it have to be so...’ I was going to say ugly, but I didn’t want to offend. ’So obvious?’
‘These days you can get little ones that fit inside your nostrils; I guess they work OK.’
‘What about Strange?’
‘Mr. Strange is an experienced traveler; he has his own already fitted.’
‘You know Strange?’
‘He’s been coming here for years.’ He turned and began to walk towards the stable door.
‘Oh, I see,’ I muttered to his back. ‘What about the donkey?’
‘Brian’s a mule, and he’ll be OK here. He won’t go anywhere unless he’s made to.’
‘Brian?’ Surely there were better names for such an animal.
I followed him through the dim stable into a slightly brighter hotel reception area. He went behind the waist-high wooden desk and looked pointedly at the bell. I joined him in his study of the ancient device.
After what was becoming an awkward silence he said, ‘you tap the top.’
‘You want me to…?’
He nodded.
So I rang the bell, and he smiled broadly; graphically displaying his fascinating molar topography.
‘I love it when people do that. What can I do for you, Sir?’
‘I’d like...to book a couple of rooms, please.’
‘We only have the one.’
I should have seen that one coming.
‘Are there any other hotels with more extensive facilities?’
‘Mr. Strange likes to stay here.’
‘That’s fine by me, but we’re not joined at the hip. I can stay somewhere else.’
‘I’ll just book you both in for now and you can sort it out with Mr. Strange later; that’ll be fine, won’t it Sir?’
I decided that I really didn’t have the energy to continue the discussion, so I gave him my charge details and told him that I’d require full receipts.
‘There you go,’ he said, handing me two small cylinders. ’Just put one in each nostril and you should be OK for a week.’
I hesitated for a moment, not entirely sure they were unused. Then I shrugged and plugged them in; they were hardly uncomfortable at all.