by Mitch Benn
Mrs Bradbury would only go into the nursery now to clean it; she would be sure to do this when she was alone in the house. She didn’t want her husband to find her sat crying on the floor, as would always happen for a few minutes before she collected herself and finished the job in silence.
On this particular morning Mrs Bradbury finished cleaning the nursery, wiped her eyes, blew her nose and went downstairs to make some coffee. She was working from home today and had the house to herself. The TV was on in the living room but the sound was turned down. People on TV annoyed Mrs Bradbury. Always talking, talking, yammering on about things that just didn’t matter at all. So few things really mattered. Mrs Bradbury knew that now.
Mrs Bradbury was still wiping the last smudges of moisture from her eyes as she passed through the living room on her way from the kitchen.
The people on the TV were particularly over-excited this morning. Newsreaders whose faces on other days were smooth masks of professional calm babbled away to the camera and each other, their eyes glinting with both terror and joy. Reporters in the streets tried to interview passers-by, but the conversations all seemed (Mrs Bradbury still had the sound down) to dissolve into hysteria. And it was all because of – what did that caption say? Appearance? Mysterious? Extra-what?
Then she saw the shape.
The shape that had appeared to her every time she closed her eyes in the last twelve years. Except now it wasn’t flickering away inside her head or tormenting her in a dream. It was right there on her TV screen.
Mrs Bradbury’s coffee cup slid from her fingers and landed with a thud-splash on the carpet. She didn’t hear it.
4.3
Mr Bradbury very nearly hadn’t made it into work that morning. The traffic had been – quite literally – crazy, with people leaping out of their cars for no obvious reason and screaming at each other. Mr Bradbury turned the radio on to see what was happening but couldn’t make sense of anything anyone was saying. One station was just playing an old REM song over and over. By the time he arrived at his office building he was feeling agitated and bewildered.
The front lobby of the building was deserted; usually there was a uniformed guard to greet him but today there was no sign of him at his desk; just a half-full cup of still steaming coffee and a half-eaten breakfast muffin.
Going up in the elevator Mr Bradbury heard waves of unusual sounds as he passed through each floor of the building. Singing, crying, laughing, screaming . . . What was going on?
The elevator arrived at his floor and the door opened. A wave of noise hit Mr Bradbury as he ventured into the office.
He saw his boss yelling frantically into a phone, his jacket off and his tie loose (already?); he saw his own secretary waving at him, with a huge smile and tears streaming down her cheeks; he saw two of his colleagues beckoning him towards the TV, he saw . . .
Mr Bradbury stood silent and open-mouthed amid the commotion. A single tear rolled down his cheek. His fingers fumbled inside his pocket for his phone. He dialled his home number without looking, his eyes still fixed upon the TV screen. He heard a click and knew his wife had picked up the phone.
They didn’t say a word to each other. They didn’t have to.
4.4
Two days later, Lbbp was wishing he’d borrowed a bigger ship.
His own little lemon-shaped spaceship was now quite cramped and uncomfortable, being fuller than it had ever been before, but Lbbp was determined not to let that ruin what promised to be a very special day. One way or another.
Lbbp and Terra had been joined on board by a very impressive and serious young Ymn in a smart blue uniform who had been introduced to them as Major Hardison, and a rather less smartly dressed and considerably less serious Ymn called Professor Steinberg. Professor Steinberg, they had been assured, was one of the very cleverest Ymn scientists on the whole planet Rrth, but today he was simply overcome with excitement. He talked and giggled almost non-stop while on board the ship, asking questions in his funny up and downy Ymn voice that neither Terra nor Lbbp had time to answer before he asked another. They’d used the Interface to install Ymn language learning patches before leaving Fnrr, but they still had a lot of difficulty understanding Professor Steinberg. Occasionally Major Hardison would shoot Professor Steinberg a stern look, and Professor Steinberg would fall silent for a moment. Just for a moment.
The days since their arrival on Rrth had passed in a flurry of meetings, examinations and interviews, with impressively commanding Ymns in blue and green uniforms, clever-sounding Ymns in white coats, and finally an extremely important-seeming Ymn in an expensive-looking grey uniform, who was addressed by his many helpers as Mizzer Prezden. Mizzer Prezden had his picture taken with Terra and Lbbp and then asked Terra if she still wanted to find her parents. When Terra replied that yes, she did, Mizzer Prezden asked one of his helpers if Terra’s parents had been identified and contacted, and he was told that yes, Mizzer Prezden, they had. More pictures were taken and Mizzer Prezden said how much he wished he could travel with them in Lbbp’s ship to the meeting; one of Mizzer Prezden’s helpers persuaded him that this would NOT be a good idea, Mizzer Prezden, and Mizzer Prezden agreed, although his disappointment was obvious. As she waved goodbye, Terra reflected that maybe Mizzer Prezden wasn’t really that important after all.
The location of Terra’s parents’ house had been kept absolutely 100 per cent classified and top secret, so naturally by the time the little spaceship arrived overhead, the street was crammed with news reporters and onlookers.
Terra looked down from one of the ship’s windows and frowned. She didn’t like those machines that some of the crowd were pointing up at the ship. She knew they were just for taking pictures but there was still something threatening about them. ‘Make all these silly people go away,’ she muttered crossly.
Major Hardison coughed. ‘Um, that could be difficult, ma’am.’ He’d been calling Terra ‘Ma’am’ all day. Terra had no idea what it meant but she had decided she rather liked it. ‘The street is a public right of way; I could request a special security order but it would have to be . . .’
‘Oh I’m sorry,’ smiled Terra, ‘I wasn’t talking to you.’
Terra nodded to Lbbp, who had already reconfigured the displacement field generator to its external setting. There was a hum, a flash, and the street below them was deserted. The old Bsht-Pshkf manoeuvre, as it was now known on Fnrr.
Bsht. Lbbp missed Bsht.
Professor Steinberg burst out laughing, but Major Hardison seemed very concerned. ‘Where have they gone?’
‘Somewhere else,’ replied Terra matter-of-factly. ‘They’ll be all right.’
And indeed they were all right, although they weren’t really dressed for mountain climbing and it took them AGES to get back down again.
The little ship descended silently to hover a few metres above the surface of the street. Terra could see a tall Ymn standing in front of the house’s main door. She breathed hard.
Major Hardison insisted on being the first to go down to speak to the Bradburys, but seemed very nervous about using the gravity beam to do so. Professor Steinberg, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to give it a try. He chortled all the way down to the ground and as soon as he touched down, shouted something about ‘another go’.
Terra watched Major Hardison walk up to the tall Ymn. At first she thought he was handing something over to him but then she saw that the two Ymns were just holding each other’s hands and sort of wobbling them a bit. She’d seen Ymns doing this a lot since their arrival; she supposed it was some sort of greeting. She liked it; it looked friendly.
Lbbp put his hand on her shoulder.
- Are you sure you want to do this?
- I can’t disappoint them now. Not today. Not again.
Lbbp gave Terra’s shoulder a pat. - I’ll go first.
Mr Bradbury had never known how he’d feel if he ever met the being who’d taken his child away. When it had first happened, the grief had been
too intense to leave any room for anger. When, some time later, the anger came at last, sadness and shame soon overwhelmed it. Since the arrival of the spaceship he’d heard Lbbp’s side of the story – everyone on Earth had – and now they were face to face he found himself looking at someone who, for all the physical differences between them and the extraordinary distance between the places they called home, was much like himself . . . an ordinary person who tried to do the right thing and sometimes made dreadful mistakes.
Lbbp extended his hand in imitation of the Ymn gesture he’d observed. ‘I . . .’ he said, the unaccustomed sound stretching his mouth uncomfortably. ‘I’m . . .’ He tried to access the Ymn language learning patch but now he needed it, the information seemed vague and jumbled. Useless Interface, thought Lbbp.
‘I’m . . . sor-ry . . .’
Mr Bradbury took Lbbp’s hand and shook it gently.
‘I’m sorry too.’
There was a momentary glow behind Lbbp. Mr Bradbury swallowed, and Lbbp stepped to one side.
Mr Bradbury studied the little face that now looked up at him. His own eyes, his wife’s face . . . If there had been any doubt in his mind – what doubt could there have been? – it was gone now. His mind raced in search of something, anything to say.
Terra spoke first, in slightly accented but perfect English. ‘Am I supposed to call you Daddy?’
Mr Bradbury laughed tearfully. ‘You can call me whatever you want . . .’
He took a step towards the child; he only meant to stoop down to bring their faces level but his legs buckled and he found himself on his knees before her. For a moment his lips moved silently. When the words came, they poured from him in a great shuddering cry.
‘We never even gave you a name . . .’
Terra put her arms round his head and stroked his hair as his tears dampened her shiny blue suit.
‘Terra,’ she said softly. ‘My name is Terra.’
A minute or so later, a calmer and more collected Mr Bradbury was leading Terra through the front door. Terra looked around her. She knew that it was unlikely she’d recognise anything, but she hoped to see something, anything that might trigger a memory of some kind. But there was nothing. A twinge of disappointment; Terra had expected the Bradburys’ house to feel at least a little bit like ‘home’, but now she was standing here she felt every bit as alien as she’d ever felt on Fnrr.
Major Hardison was sat in a chair, deep in conversation with a female Ymn who sat opposite him in a similar chair.
The Ymn woman turned her head, with what seemed to be some difficulty, to look at Terra for the first time.
Hope is a terrifying thing sometimes.
In the days since the ship had arrived and changed the world, so many people all over the planet had been hoping for many different things. Scientists had hoped for great leaps forward in technology; the sick had hoped for miraculous new medicines, military leaders had (secretly) been hoping for devastating new weapons, religious zealots had been hoping for confirmation of their preferred ancient prophecy, and a lot of people on the internet were hoping that the next ship to arrive would bring Elvis back.
Only one person on Earth hadn’t been hoping for anything at all.
Mrs Bradbury did not hope, because she would not allow herself to hope. Every time the thought that she was about to get her little girl back entered her mind, she furiously suppressed it. Even if this child was her own lost baby – and it seemed certain that she was – how could it possibly be as simple a matter as her lost child coming home? Coming home? Home? This house had never been her home. This planet had never been her home. She and Mr Bradbury had never been her family. The child had another life, another family, another world to which she belonged. How could she slot back into their lives as if nothing had happened? Why would she even want to?
Mrs Bradbury had been working very hard to stop hope from taking root in her mind, for she knew that when the hope proved false – as she felt sure it would – the pain of losing her child all over again would literally be more than she could bear.
Right now the thought Mrs Bradbury was trying not to have was that the girl now standing in her living room was every bit as bright, alert and pretty as she’d dreamed her child would be by now.
A moment’s quiet.
Mr Bradbury was waiting by the door. This was something he wasn’t going to be able to help with. Professor Steinberg, despite his excitement, sensed that now was not a moment for enthusiasm. For politeness’s sake, he introduced himself quietly to Mr Bradbury.
‘I remember reading about what happened,’ he said. ‘It’s amazing anyone believed you.’
‘They didn’t,’ said Mr Bradbury.
Professor Steinberg was going to say ‘I did,’ when he noticed that Mrs Bradbury was about to speak.
‘It was your birthday. Two weeks ago.’
‘How old am I?’ Perfect English; a hint of an accent. Mrs Bradbury composed herself and went on.
‘Twelve. You . . . you’re twelve now.’ Nearly said ‘would have been’.
‘Really? I’m still eight back – back on Fnrr. The years. They’re a little longer.’
‘I see.’
Terra had been about to say ‘back home’. She’d caught herself just in time. She hoped her mother hadn’t noticed. She knew she had.
‘Can I see my room?’
‘Of course.’
Mrs Bradbury led Terra to the bottom of the staircase. Oh yes, stairs, thought Terra. I hope I can use them correctly. Should be easy, they’re like the Forum steps in Hrrng but much narrower. Watching her mother’s actions carefully, she followed up behind her. It felt strange, and yet entirely natural.
Mr Bradbury watched his wife and daughter ascend the stairs, then turned to the others and spoke. ‘I’d . . . I’d better . . .’
Major Hardison nodded and Mr Bradbury climbed the stairs. Professor Steinberg had been about to follow when Major Hardison shot him a glance which he and even Lbbp understood immediately. Professor Steinberg sat in one of the armchairs and beckoned to Lbbp to sit in the other.
‘So . . .’
‘So?’
‘So, um, not your first time on Earth, then . . .’
‘No. First time among Ymns, though.’
‘And how are you finding us?’
‘Fascinating.’
Professor Steinberg let out an involuntary yelp of laughter. Major Hardison glowered at him. ‘Oh come on,’ pleaded Professor Steinberg, shaking with suppressed mirth. ‘Fascinating,’ repeated Professor Steinberg in a deep voice, raising one eyebrow. ‘Far out . . .’ he chuckled. Major Hardison shook his head sadly. Lbbp had absolutely no idea what was going on, but at least Professor Steinberg seemed happy.
Mrs Bradbury pushed the nursery door open. Yellow sunlight poured through thin curtains. Terra took a step inside. Shelves, a few brightly coloured books, some simple plastic toys, all obviously intended for the baby she had once been and could never be again. In the corner, what looked like a tiny cage; on closer inspection, a little bed surrounded by wooden bars. To stop me rolling out in my sleep, thought Terra. To keep me safe. Like the straps in the car. Just to keep me safe.
Mrs Bradbury stood behind Terra, longing to speak but with no idea what to say.
‘Did I sleep here?’
‘No.’ Mrs Bradbury swallowed and went on. ‘You were still too tiny. You slept in a basket beside my bed. We were going to move you in here when . . . when it . . . when you went away.’
Terra thought.
Mrs Bradbury waited.
Mr Bradbury silently entered the room and put an arm round his wife’s shoulders. She was shivering.
Terra spoke.
‘This isn’t going to work.’
Mrs Bradbury shuddered and her husband’s arm tightened around her. ‘No, of course it isn’t.’
Terra turned round. ‘If I’m going to be living here from now on, I’ll need a much bigger bed,’ she said.
Mrs Bradb
ury let out a great sob, which turned into a laugh, and back into a sob, and she was laughing and crying all at once, and her husband joined in, and they both wrapped their arms around their little girl like they would never ever let her go again.
Downstairs, Professor Steinberg listened to the sounds of joy and laughter coming through the ceiling.
‘Well . . . I guess she’s staying.’
Even Major Hardison smiled, and shook Professor Steinberg’s hand.
Lbbp sat alone. He tried his best to be happy. He knew he would be one day.
4.5
Terra dreamed.
In her dreams she was flying, flying over rainbow beaches and deep pink seas. Flying over spires of crystal and steel, flying through soft clouds, soft downy clouds, clouds that tangled around her limbs and pulled her off course until she crashed down onto the carpeted floor of her bedroom.
Duvets.
Like everything else in Terra’s new world, duvets were going to take some getting used to.
One thing Terra was sure she’d never get used to was having to wash herself before getting dressed. It was all so much fuss and bother. She had to admit that showers felt fantastic, though.
She trotted down the stairs – she could take them at quite a pace now without stumbling – and greeted her parents. She sniffed the air.
‘Pancakes!’ she said happily.
‘Of course,’ smiled her mother.
The car arrived just as Terra was finishing her pancakes. She got into the back with her parents on either side of her. Terra still found travelling by car bumpy and noisy, but at least it didn’t make her sick, as she had feared it might when she first tried it.
‘How long is this going to take?’ she asked her father.
‘About an hour.’
About ten minutes by bubble, reflected Terra, but never mind.
Fifty-eight minutes later, the car passed through a security checkpoint manned by young soldiers who seemed quite excited to see them, and drove on into the airbase.