by J. J. Green
Carrie’s tense expression relaxed a little. “Maybe you’re right. I hope so.”
The two stood and for the first time realised they were alone in the gateway room. Dave put his hands on his hips. “Not much of a welcoming committee.”
Carrie felt nearly dead with exhaustion. She was covered head to toe in grainy mud, which seemed to have worked its way into every nook and cranny. Her muscles ached with tiredness, the burns from the placktoid weapons throbbed, and she felt emotionally wrung out to dry. She didn’t want a welcoming committee. All she wanted was to see her pets, have a warm bath and get into a soft bed. But it was strange. Where was Gavin? Where were Errruorerrrrrhch and all the other Council Managers who had been so admiring of the fact them when they left?
Dave was staring at her, his mouth open to an O.
“What? What are you thinking?” Carrie asked.
“Don’t you remember what they said? By changing something in the past, we could affect the course of history and return to a different present.”
Carrie’s hands flew to her face. “Oh no,” she said between her fingers. “You mean Gavin might not exist? Or the Council?” She frowned. “But that can’t be right. We’re on the Council starship. Or, at least, everything looks the same, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but where is everyone?”
Carrie and Dave left the gateway room with its now-blank screen and set off down the creamy ceramic corridors of the Council vessel. The environment reminded Carrie strongly of the tunnels in the placktoid mountains...or, rather, the tunnels within the Creators, she reminded herself. Though the starship was almost uncomfortably warm, she shivered. It would be a long time before she felt comfortable in confined spaces again.
They passed recesses set into the sides, floors and ceilings of the corridors, surrounded by weird symbols. From time spent training on a Council starship, Carrie knew the panels would only open to pheromones excreted by Council managers, or DNA signatures programmed into them. She tried placing her hand on a few of the doors but met with a predictable lack of success.
“What are we going to do if we can’t find anyone?” asked Dave. “We don’t know how to open a gateway to Earth. How will we get home?”
Carrie was wondering the same thing as a terrible smell hit her. “Oh, wow,” she said, and covered her nose and mouth with a hand. The reek was a mixture of rotting fish, paint thinner and a vicious case of salmonella poisoning. Her eyes watered, and she clamped her teeth together to fight an urge to vomit. “I think the managers might be this way,” she said in a nasal whine, gripping her nose between thumb and forefinger.
Both turning a sickly shade of pale green, Carrie and Dave reluctantly followed the stench where it led them. The managers weren’t far away, but they’d been hard to detect because they were making no sound. The two humans stumbled into a room packed with the massive insectoid aliens that the Council employed as its managers. They were standing still and communicating through their species’ traditional method: the excretion of pheromones.
Nearly all the managers were ranged around three-quarters of the room and facing in one direction. In the corner of the room was a pool shot through with light that coruscated, glimmered and flashed. A single manager was draped over the pool, suspended by the claws of its ten pairs of legs, which were only just wide enough to prevent it from falling in. To Carrie and Dave, the scene was frozen, though the odour in the room implied a heated debate was going on.
So intent were the managers on their discussion, it took a moment or two for any of them to notice the humans’ arrival. The manager that spotted them skittered sideways in surprise and collided with another. Within a few moments the room was in motion, though the communications were still meaningless to Carrie and Dave because the insectoid aliens continued to use their pheromone language.
A single voice sounded across the room. “Carrie and Dave. It is most pleasant to see you have arrived back safely.” The voice seemed to come from the manager suspended over the pool.
“Gavin?” said Carrie.
“Yes, it is I. I imagine it must be difficult for you to tell one manager from another. I have a similar problem with humans and other species, but I have the advantage of—”
“What are you doing? Why on Earth are you hanging over that water?”
“You are mistaken. The liquid beneath me is not hydrogen dioxide. This is the transgalactic gateway control centre. You see...ah...” He paused. “I am afraid that English does not yet contain the words to explain its contents or operation.”
Carrie was marching through the ranks of managers to Gavin’s side. He looked in need of some help. As she reached him, however, he said, “Please do not approach me, Carrie. I have achieved a state of perfect balance. One touch and I would probably fall in.”
“And then what would happen?”
“Ah...by most accounts, an excruciating death would ensue.”
Carrie stepped back. Another Council manager joined them. “He has been exceedingly foolish.”
“Errruorerrrrrh?”
The manager chittered. “Errruorerrrrrhch,” she said, with special emphasis on the 'ch’. “I do not know how we will get him off there now. I hope he does not die while we are determining the method that is the safest and most likely to succeed.”
“I hope so too,” exclaimed Carrie. “But what’s going on? Gavin, what are you doing hanging over the transgalactic gateway control?”
When Gavin didn’t reply, Errruorerrrrrhch answered for him. “When the deadline for applying the time shield arrived, he threw himself across the control centre to block the engineers’ access. He stated that he would not move until you and Dave had returned. We could not do anything. The engineers could not approach the centre, and we could not move Gavin without risking that he fall into the centre and destroy it, thereby further preventing the engineers from applying the time shield.”
Errruorerrrrrhch continued speaking, but Carrie couldn't make out what the alien was saying. She was crying again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven – Farewell to Gavin
The Transgalactic Council wanted Carrie and Dave to stay longer than the several hours it took to heal their wounds and debrief them on their assignment, but both wanted nothing more than to go home. They had told the managers everything that had happened and how the mountains that everyone had assumed were part of the placktoid planet’s geology were actually the placktoid’s Creators. That information had caused quite a stir. They had apparently solved one of the great mysteries of the galaxy.
But Carrie couldn’t relax and enjoy her success. She missed her pets, and though she knew the Council engineers would return her to the time just a few minutes after she had originally left—a small time hop they could complete accurately—she couldn’t wait for Rogue to jump up and slobber over her face in the habit she had been trying to train him out of for several years.
For a standard transgalactic gateway journey, they could leave from anywhere on the ship. They chose a small, quiet room that looked out over the local star field. The patterns were completely unfamiliar to Carrie, but she assumed that they, like everything else she and Dave had experienced so far, were unchanged from the galaxy they had left when they journeyed into the past. The thought comforted her now that she was about to return home. She didn’t want to think that anything might be different. She liked her life just as it was, though now she had to find a new job.
“I am afraid I must say goodbye for the foreseeable future,” said Gavin.
“What?” exclaimed Carrie. “Why? Have I been transferred to another manager?”
“No, that is not the reason it may be some time before we can meet again. I have been dismissed from my role at the Transgalactic Council. As this is my third dismissal, I am permanently banned from applying for any further positions.”
“Oh no,” said Carrie. “Was it because of what you did for us? That’s so unfair.”
“Sorry to hear that, mate,” said Dav
e.
“Can’t you appeal? You saved our lives. Isn’t a manager supposed to look after his staff?”
“I cannot appeal, but I would not do so in any case. The Council is perfectly correct to dismiss me. I jeopardised the fate of the galaxy for the sake of two members of staff. It was unconscionable. And yet at the time it seemed to be the correct thing to do.
“I am going to reflect on my behaviour and try to understand the underlying philosophical implications while I am seeking further employment.”
“Won’t I ever see you again?” Tears were welling up in Carrie's eyes. She felt like she’d done enough crying over the last few hours to last her a lifetime.
“We may certainly meet if you ever come to my home planet, or perhaps our paths will cross elsewhere, or if Earth joins the Unity, I shall pay you and Dave a visit.”
Carrie imagined the stir Gavin would create walking through Northampton town centre. “I’m definitely going to come and see you as soon as I get a chance.”
“Have there been any reports of the placktoids yet?” asked Dave.
“Nothing as yet. As far as we can tell at the moment, your assignment was successful. It appears no placktoids left the planet before the time shield finally went up. By hiding in the past and trying to change the course of history, the placktoids sealed their own fate. They seem to be trapped.”
Carrie was tempted to reopen a discussion she’d had with Gavin about the nature of time, and whether it was possible that the placktoids were the engineers of their own path to evil, but Gavin’s responses had made her head spin. All she had understood was the 'we don’t know’ part. She decided to leave it at that.
“All ready?” asked Dave.
Carrie nodded and gingerly wrapped her arms around Gavin’s massive bronze head, with its compound eyes and double, razor-sharp mandibles. It was an awkward hug, but she wouldn’t feel right without giving him one.
The familiar green mist appeared from nowhere in front of the star field that occupied one wall of the room. Though Carrie's heart rose at the prospect of going home, the feeling was bittersweet knowing she wouldn’t see Gavin for a while, perhaps forever. She’d grown accustomed to his terrifying appearance and now she couldn’t see him as anything other than an old, very dear friend; a friend to whom she owed her life.
Dave approached the insectoid alien with his hand outstretched but balked when Gavin raised a claw to shake it. He gingerly grasped one of Gavin’s antennae and waggled it instead.
Carrie took a final look at the glittering expanse that lay outside the ship. She stepped forward. The air rushing towards the gateway lifted her and pulled her in, then she was home.
Chapter Twenty-Eight – Transmogrified Moggie
At first, Carrie thought the Council gateway engineers had sent her through to the wrong place. She didn’t recognise the kitchen floor she slid across as she arrived back on Earth. When Dave’s boots appeared through the green mist, she scrambled out of his way and stood up. Turning on her heel, she took in the large room filled with the latest domestic appliances. Fear gripped her heart, but it was quickly dispelled when Rogue bounded in and leapt up to lick her face.
So she was home, but her home was quite different from the poky little flat she remembered.
“Woah,” said Dave. “It looks like we did change something.”
“But how?” asked Carrie. “How could something we did thousands of years ago on a planet millions of light years away have given me a posh house?” She looked out the window and found she recognised the street. Her former flat was in the building opposite. She was back in Northampton, and in nearly the same spot, but not quite.
“Beats me,” said Dave. “But don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Anyway, I’m shattered. I’m going home. Maybe I’ll have moved to a mansion. See you later.” Grabbing his jacket from the back of the kitchen chair, he left.
Carrie explored her new home. First of all she looked for Toodles, and found her fast asleep on a bookshelf. As she investigated further, she realised her new home was the most upmarket house she’d ever lived in, including the place where she grew up. She was relieved to find she seemed to live alone. An unfamiliar boyfriend or husband would have been very difficult to deal with.
After the long, hot bath she’d promised herself, she settled down to sleep. Tomorrow she would have to start job-hunting. Maybe she had a mortgage to pay on the house? Carrie yawned. She was too tired to think about it. She would have to find out in the morning.
Her phone rang. She reached and grabbed it from the polished wooden bedside table. It was Dave. “Hi, are you calling from your mansion?”
“No, I’m back in the same old place, worst luck. How about you? Are you enjoying your life of luxury?”
“I’m enjoying it while I can. For all I know I could be up to my eyeballs in debt. I’m going to start looking on job websites in the morning.”
“I don’t think you’ll need to do that.”
“Why? Even if I own this place I’ve got to eat.”
“Carrie, when I got home I checked my payslips to make sure I still had the same job. I thought it would be embarrassing to turn up somewhere that no one had heard of me. And...well...are you sitting down?”
“I’m lying down, Dave. I’m really tired. Whatever it is you want to tell me, spit it out.”
“Well...apparently I work for Carrie Hatchett Enterprises.”
Carrie sat bolt upright, her exhaustion banished. “What?” she squeaked.
“It looks like you own the company, call centre and everything. It’s all yours.”
“What?”
“I said you—”
“I heard you, but, I mean, how?”
“Who knows? It’s good news, though, isn’t it? You won’t have to find another job.”
“I suppose so.” Carrie’s mind was reeling. How on Earth could she run a company?
“Anyway, we can talk tomorrow. I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ve got another reason for phoning you. The weather forecast says it’s going to be freezing, and the bus is always late when it’s like that. I don’t suppose you could give me a lift to work?”
“But I don’t have a...have I got a car?”
“It’s parked right in your driveway. Didn’t you notice?”
“I didn’t think to look. Cool. Yeah, of course. I’ll pick you up about eight.”
Carrie turned her phone to silent and put it on the table next to her bed. She owned a company? It sounded a little scary, but this new life seemed to be getting better and better. She lay down, turned on her side and tucked her arm under her pillow. Just as she was about to close her eyes, she saw movement at her bedroom door, which she had left ajar. Ginger movement.
She was suddenly very awake. Was Toodles mounting a nighttime attack? She didn’t usually launch an offensive unprovoked. Maybe the cat had remembered Carrie and Dave’s rude attempt to remove her from the kettle and she was seeking revenge?
A ball of fur landed on the bed. Toodles’ amber eyes surveyed the stock-still Carrie, who had learned through painful experience that motion was perceived in a negative light by her cat. An unfamiliar, low buzz sounded in Carrie’s ears. Could it be? Was it possible? Was Toodles purring?
The cat rubbed her face against Carrie's. This was Toodles, right? Carrie held her breath. Very slowly, she pulled a hand from beneath the covers and, very tentatively, stroked her pet. Toodles responded by curling into a ball next to Carrie's head, her soft fur tickling her nose.
“Toodles,” breathed Carrie, “what’s happened to you?”
She could get very used to this new life. Very used to it indeed. She finally slid into a deep, furry sleep.
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ALSO BY J.J. Green
GENERATION
SHADOWS OF THE VOID BOOK 1
THERE COMES A TIME
A SCIENCE FICTION COLLECTION
LOST TO TOMORROW
DAWN FALCON
A FANTASY COLLECTION
MISSION IMPROBABLE
CARRIE HATCHETT, SPACE ADVENTURER #1
PASSAGE TO PARADISE
Carrie hatchett, space adventurer #2
TRANSGALACTIC ANTICS
CARRIE HATCHETT, SPACE ADVENTURER #3
Copyright © 2016 J.J. Green
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First Edition.