Edge of Revelation

by David John West

  EIGHT

  The Prime Minister was leading a full Cabinet meeting in the Cabinet Office at 10 Downing Street. The main topic was the same as for the last few years: the United Kingdom’s deteriorating relationship with the European Union in Brussels. Sitting in the centre of the long spindle-shaped table the Prime Minister could see all the Cabinet members arrayed tightly to her sides. The Foreign Secretary sat opposite her with the other main Eurosceptics in Trade and Environment. The Chancellor and Home Secretary flanked her, representing the Europhile camp. The lower-ranking ministers were seated further along the narrow ends of the table and were obliged to crane their necks forward to participate. The European issue was the most divisive and emotional of her premiership; most ministers took extreme views on the subject and did not hesitate to propound them not only round this table but also to the media despite their notional commitment to collective government. In fact only the Prime Minister herself was genuinely indifferent on the topic. This was an unacceptable position to the rest of the Cabinet and indeed to the country as a whole, which demanded she come out with a polarised position in favour of their particular point of view.

  The popular view was that the Prime Minister was not coping well with all this stress. Today’s meeting, around the imbalance in farm subsidies in favour of the European Union and their demands for fishing rights in United Kingdom waters, was proof of her weakness to ministers on either side of the argument. Eurosceptics demanded the UK take back control of fish stocks and the cessation of subsidies to inefficient continental farmers. Europhiles defended the rights of foreign trawlers to fish UK waters and the stability provided by the Common Agricultural Policy that guaranteed stable, if expensive, food supplies.

  The Prime Minister seemed distracted today. Her ministers took this as a further sign of her fragility. How could anything be more important and distract the Prime Minister than the topic up for debate this morning? If the Prime Minister could not focus on such a challenge then her reign must be coming to an end. That thought energised ambitions all round the table. Leading candidates on both sides were sharpening their knives for the leadership battle to come. They expected a stalking-horse candidate to emerge and fire the starting gun on a serious leadership challenge, which would be their opportunity to claim ultimate power. Truly, the Prime Minister was tired of this incessant bickering and the impossibility of finding compromise in her own government, let alone with her opposite numbers in Europe, each of which held widely differing views. The Prime Minister’s mind wandered occasionally to her next meeting, a one-on-one with the military gentleman waiting in the Prime Minister’s meeting room next door. The topic of the next meeting was monumental and mind-expanding compared to predicting the economic effects of shoals of sea fish favouring swimming on one side of the English Channel over the other. The next meeting was also top secret beyond Cabinet level; the last thing she wanted was the Cabinet group making a meal of the alien issue as well as Europe. In any event, the Prime Minister had commenced the EU meeting with by stating a time guillotine of ten minutes before the hour, when the meeting must finish. There was little chance of agreement being found, however long the meeting went on, so no harm was being done. The Prime Minister called an end to the meeting when the Environment Minister was in full flow regarding the sustainability of fish stocks and trawling communities after the United Kingdom took back control of coastal waters. He complained about being cut off before finishing his extensive list of points. The other side howled about the unfairness of the Eurosceptics having the final word.

  “Yes, yes,” said the Prime Minister. “There is nothing new in these discussions. You must all go away and give me solutions that have some chance of working for all of us together and that will find favour with the Europeans.” There was a scraping of heavy wooden chairs as ministers stood and turned away from the Cabinet table, heads hanging low with frustration. The Home Secretary whispered in the Prime Minister’s ear as she stood to leave asking for a quiet word on the impossibility of stopping continental fishing fleets accustomed to fishing in UK waters from coming within 200 miles of the coast. The Prime Minister waved the Home Secretary away and she took offence. The Eurosceptics opposite saw the exchange and took encouragement from the fact the Home Secretary was being rebuffed.

  Eventually the Cabinet Office was clear of people and most of the papers. Only china cups and water glasses remained. The catering staff entered and cleared the room leaving a quiet, respectful space around the Prime Minister herself. She was wearing a grey woollen suit with black velvet collar. She rubbed at her eyes with her forefingers to clear away the effects of the prior meeting. She managed to dismiss the pressure so close to her mind, clearing her head of dark thoughts on the EU, and she reloaded the latest reports from David Harrier and Professor Kitteridge into her brain; they were truly exciting, full of danger, so different from all the usual piffle. In the office next door David Harrier could hear the senior officers of state scrape their chairs back and then troop out of the Cabinet Office. A short time later the Prime Minister’s senior secretary advised him the PM was ready and would he follow her into the Cabinet room.

  The Prime Minister was working on her papers as David Harrier entered the Cabinet Office. She was seated in the centre of the long table, bob of grey hair hung over the desk so David felt a stab of concern at her hunched posture. A moment later his fears were dispelled as she looked up brightly at him and smiled widely. “Good morning, Brigadier! Please take a seat. Now we have sent away the hangers-on we can get down to some real business.” Her smile faded as she continued, “I rue the day our business has to go before the Cabinet and you get tangled up in all that red tape and hot air, but I fear it may not be so far away on reading your reports.”

  David Harrier took a seat opposite the Prime Minister. The light was behind him from the large windows to the garden beyond and picked out the Prime Minister’s well-known features with great clarity. “I would ask that you protect this operation from wider scrutiny for as long as possible, Prime Minister. If we get bogged down in politics and the media too soon we may lose our current contacts and direct insight into what is happening. It could even change the outcome from a positive one for us to a very bad one. We believe there is a spectrum of scenarios from friendly contact with great benefits as we seem to be experiencing right now to hostile invasion if the aliens turn against us. The very reasons that alien reports have always been treated as confidential by most governments. But those reports were never as definite and immediate as they are at the present time.”

  In the privacy of their meeting it was as if the years had been stripped back from the Prime Minister and David was seeing her as she must have been in the early days of her political career when she had been all principle and enthusiasm. Leaning forward with animated eyes she said, “You report that you have met with the aliens we discussed in Cambridge and even travelled on their spaceship. Come on, David; you must tell me all about it!”

  David would not be drawn into being overfamiliar, his training was too ingrained to allow that, but she sparked his exciting memories on board the Gayan ship Maria. “As I reported, Prime Minister, the craft was exceptional and it was way beyond any technology I am aware of on Earth today. That in itself is proof of the authenticity of their claims. Much like the reported characteristics of UFO sightings, their craft was capable of exceptional speeds and acceleration, equal performance under water and in space as well as in the air.”

  “And the aliens themselves, Brigadier?” The Prime Minister responded to David’s formality by straightening slightly in her chair. The technology was interesting but she was more exercised by the nature of beings from another world.

  “Much like humans on Earth. The two flight crew of the alien craft could have been mistaken for celebrity wrestlers here. I would also say that it is entirely possible that we already met one or more of the aliens at our Cambridge meeting; at least some of them live among
us and are undetectable if they choose to be.”

  “So what do you consider the threat level to be? That must be our first consideration.”

  “It is commonly held by our group that if we are contacted by an alien race then by definition their technology will be so superior that we could not counter a hostile threat directly with our own military. My trip on one of their craft proved to me that is absolutely the case, though critically perhaps I saw no evidence of weaponry. That may mean nothing. They may have other war craft just like we have different ships for different purposes and I would not necessarily recognise an advanced alien weapon if I saw one. They would be most unlikely to resemble missiles or cannons as we understand them.”

  David paused for a drink of water. “The aliens that have made contact claim to come from a planet called Gaya in the star cluster we call the Seven Sisters or the Pleiades. They have shown me images of their home range of stars on their starship and I believe there are very many inhabited planets there, possibly thousands.” The Prime Minister raised her eyebrows at that. “They have shown me plans of the entire night skies over Europe that indicate there are inhabited planets in all directions. The biggest ‘good news/bad news’ story there ever has been. Good news is we are definitely not alone – far from it. Bad news is also that we are not alone; in fact we are surrounded by alien races all over the heavens, and these are alien races of human beings, probably much more advanced than us but with human failings we are well aware of. I think it’s fair to say that on this evidence life in general is everywhere.”

  “You could have been deceived by clever special effects, David? A kind of Hollywood virtual-reality ride?”

  “I think not, Prime Minister, much as it would be more comfortable for me to think so,” David continued, reflecting on his own thoughts that he may have been duped by some kind of special effects. “I guess I have to consider that anything is possible. After all we belong to the establishment that has said the same about all witnesses who claimed to have been abducted or flown the skies with their alien contacts in the past. But this happened to me personally and I have no doubts, unless they can completely take over your mind and create any illusion they wish. In any event, it will likely be immaterial. The Gayans said first of all that we can expect overt contact in the very short term from them. They also said that there is an imminent threat from their enemies, the hostile race Spargar, who come from much closer to Earth than themselves.”

  The Prime Minister felt a sudden cold rush of fear of the unknown, of being inferior and ineffective in the face of an overwhelming power. No amount of Cabinet meetings were likely to make an iota of difference against such a threat. David could see the worry and indecision on the Prime Minister’s face but he had no reassurance to give. “There has been some confirmation from much closer to home as well, I am afraid. We have many reports from Thetford of a very large UFO blotting out the night sky, flying at low speed and altitude towards the south. After it passed over Thetford it disappeared and we have no knowledge of its whereabouts at present. It was several hundred metres across, which makes it one of the largest reported UFOs. I have made contact with Professor Kitteridge and his group was aware of it before we told them. They say it was a Spargar vessel capable of carrying several hundreds of their troops. We don’t know where it finished up as it disappeared beyond Thetford, but it was heading towards Cambridge – or London.”

  “We must at least go to a higher state of alert, Brigadier. We do it all the time in any case against terrorist threats and they would seem trivial by comparison.”

  “I agree and there can be no harm in heightened awareness until we discover the purpose of this large craft and the wider picture. I will also raise the alert status of my group across all your armed forces. This will have the effect of bringing my virtual command structure into actual force in the face of an imminent invasion.

  “One more thing, Prime Minister. We will also have to bring the Americans into our confidence now. They will be aware of the Very Large UFO from their own surveillance, not least as it passed over US bases near Thetford. They do not know about our Cambridge contacts but they will likely find out very soon. Best that we bring my opposite numbers up to speed in a controlled way. If things work out well then they will be pleased and helpful. If things go badly we will need every assistance they can provide. We can count on the Americans to take it badly if they discover we have been holding out on them for very long. Do I have your approval for these measures?”

  “Yes of course, Brigadier. For all our sakes make sure that these actions don’t leak to the press. I dread to imagine the panic that would cause. Please be careful; I can’t imagine what I would do if I were to lose you now. In fact I insist you call every day. Make it the end of the afternoon but certainly every day, whatever time. That way I know you are still around. I think you know what I mean?”

  David smiled and nodded before making his farewells and leaving. Outside the door to the Cabinet Office he recognised the Prime Minister’s infamous special advisors sitting uncomfortably on upright chairs, clearly waiting on their turn for an audience with the PM. Timothy Danes was medium height, gaunt of features in steel glasses and limp dark hair, slender to the point of thin in a cheap old blue pinstripe suit. Nadia Sakrumani was the same height but of shapeless form in a gauzy brown Indian-print dress and sandals. The only thing they seemed to have in common was the steel-rimmed spectacles over watery eyes as well as a full suite of politically correct views. David nodded amicably to the pair who seemed uncomfortable to look up at him from their hunched positions. They watched him leave but made no comment, no gesture beyond turning their heads as he walked along the corridor. Who is that man? they thought in unison, and why do we not know about him?

  David was a little distance away when he heard the Prime Minister come to the Cabinet Office door and welcome the pair warmly. There was a scraping of chairs as they rose to follow the Prime Minister into the cream-panelled room beyond. David overheard the Prime Minister’s happy voice despite the closing door saying, “It is so nice to see you both after all the problems of the Cabinet meeting this morning. Such a relief to be in the company of people who really understand me…”

  NINE

  Once the innocent birdwatchers Tom and Mavis had been dumped some distance away from the Jarlankan landing site, Rakul felt comfortable in his security perimeter again and turned to his main task: finding and pounding on all the possible witnesses of the last sighting of the missing Omeyn MuneMei lost after some kind of skirmish with Gayan rivals. Logging into the Mind with Omeyn status allowed Rakul to pull together every strand of information about the Omeyns known to the Conclave, including the evidence of the spirit Ghola in Cambridge whose existence was only known at the Omeyn level. Beyond that information was the sitrep for the supposed ambush of the Gayan suspects at the Thetford Forest site where the Omeyn and her task force disappeared. The pilot of the Zarnha transport craft from that day was still on the staff of the Zarnha HQ at the Grantchester location; he would be afraid of facing stiff charges of failing to protect an Omeyn in a field operation. Finally there was the earthly human agent Anya, intimately infiltrated into the suspected Gayan cell operating in Cambridge University. Anya’s loyalty was questionable in Rakul’s view as she was originally kidnapped from Earth but in theory she had been reprogrammed and was answerable to Rakul’s will.

  Rakul issued the Ghola recall command prior to contacting Tatsu, the local Zarnha commander, and setting a meeting for midday the following day. Tatsu would arrange for the pilot who escaped the skirmish, leading Zarnha agents and Anya to be present to meet him at the Grantchester house used as their local headquarters. He arranged the meeting point outside the White Hart Inn in the centre of Fulbourn village six miles east of Grantchester. Like a lark with a nest that runs away along the ground to distract a predator before taking to the wing, Rakul would appear in a location some distance away from his actu
al lair as the meeting point that day. Fulbourn Fen, close to the meeting point, would be a plausible and more likely alternate landing site for his battle group where he would claim he was staying. This would distract casual surveillance. He decided he would take Ivanka Makhtarian with him to the meeting; she showed great promise and an extra loyal mind at the meeting would apply pressure to the local Zarnha and would equal up the numbers.

  The following morning Ivanka piloted her craft to the meeting point. It was drizzling under a grey sky, not the best conditions for cloaked flight as it was possible to perceive the shape of the Jarlankan craft as the light rain dispersed around the invisible ship. Fortunately few people were about on the country route to Fulbourn in the miserable conditions and no local technology was likely to be checking the shape of the rain in sufficient detail to detect the passing of a medium-sized Jarlankan spacecraft. Fulbourn village was small and traditional like a thousand similar villages scattered across this fine agricultural land. Ivanka brought her craft down on the slick wet grass of a deserted recreational ground. From there they had a good view of the meeting place outside a small building with a sign announcing it was the White Hart Country Inn situated alongside a narrow broken tarmac track called Impett’s Lane. How do these land-bound wheeled vehicles negotiate such poorly surfaced tracks? Both Jarlankans were bemused. A black limousine arrived spot on time as expected and Rakul and Ivanka deplaned and walked the short distance to the smart black vehicle waiting directly outside the entrance to the public house next to the deserted wooden benches designed for guests in summer weather. The driver made like a chauffeur and jumped out of the vehicle to open the rear doors for his passengers. Rakul and Ivanka were dressed in Jarlankan casual suits of fine brown hide, unusual for rural Cambridgeshire but in keeping with foreign affluent folk who could command the use of a chauffeured limousine close to the cosmopolitan city that Cambridge had recently become.