“What do you mean, I can’t fly?”
The man sheltering behind the desk used his right index finger to gently straighten the folder in front of him. “The RAF has very strict policies on who they let into their aircraft.”
Interlocking knobbly fingers on top of the mustard-coloured cardboard, he continued, “I’m sorry to say you failed the medical.” He gave Gabriel Kelly the least apologetic smile known to mankind.
“But I’m fit!” said Kelly. “Non-smoker, non-drinker, 20-20 vision, perfect ears, well within weight… What more do you want?”
The officer drew a hissing breath past his teeth. “I’m afraid it was your asthma.”
Kelly blinked. “Asthma?”
“Asthma,” repeated the officer with a solemn nod.
“I haven’t had that since I was twelve!”
“I’m really very sorry, but it’s in your file.”
If he says “I’m afraid” or “I’m sorry” one more time, I’ll throttle him with his stupid Air Force tie.
Below the line of the desk, Kelly balled his hands into fists. “So that’s it. I can’t join.”
“Well,” said the other man. “As the ad campaign says, ‘You don’t have to be a pilot to fly with the RAF.’” He plucked a leaflet off the glossy stack. “We have plenty of exciting career opportunities in training, engineering, ground support, communications, catering…”
“Catering?”
The officer shrugged and delicately dropped the leaflet back onto the desk. “But if you’re dead set on being a pilot…”
“Yes?” Kelly leant forward.
“I could always give British Airways a call.”
Kelly slumped. And spend the rest of my life ferrying sun-burnt Londoners back from the Caribbean? “No thanks.”
“Well then…” The officer looked across the table with a glint in his eyes.
Kelly closed his own. Oh god, don’t say it.
“Sorry, Gabriel…”
Don’t you dare.
“…looks like you won’t be getting your wings after all.”
Bastard.
Kelly was never quite sure how he managed to leave the building without committing second degree murder. It was a close call when the receptionist asked if he’d be back, but at last he was out in the fresh air.
Now for the really crap bit.
He pulled out his phone and started walking back to his car. The voice that picked up was giggling.
“Hello?”
Kelly tucked the phone between his chin and shoulder as he searched both pockets for his keys. “Hey, Sarah. It’s Gabriel.”
“Oh.” The voice stopped giggling. There was an odd beat. “Everything alright?”
Finding the keys, Kelly switched the phone to his left hand. “I didn’t get in.”
“Oh, Sweetheart…”
“I know, I know. Listen…” He ducked inside the blue Ford. “…would it be alright if I came over to yours? I’m feeling a bit shit.”
Another strange pause. “Actually, I’m at yours.”
“Oh?” Kelly fumbled to start the engine. “Gary let you in?”
“Yes, um… Gary and I, we’ve been having a talk.”
The engine coughed and spluttered into life. Kelly rested his free hand on the steering wheel. “About what?”
“We don’t think this is fair on you.”
“What’s not fair?” And since when were you and Gary a ‘we’?
“We should have told you ages ago. I’m sorry, Darling…”
Kelly closed his eyes. Perfect. Fucking perfect.
“Are you still there, Gabriel?”
Yes, I’m still here you miserable…
“I’m going to put Gary on.”
I don’t want to speak to…
“Hey! Kelly! Listen man, I’m really sorry…”
Kelly snapped his phone shut. He flopped both hands over the steering wheel, resting his head between them.
“Perfect,” he muttered out loud.
The idling engine grumbled and clunked in reply.
“So, Mr Kelly, what sort of job do you see yourself in?”
Kelly turned his keys over between his fingers. The chair was a lot softer than the one at the RAF office. “Pilot.”
The woman across the desk was on the rounded side of “comfortable”, with a dress that sported more bursting blooms than a typical florist. She blinked a few times before smiling gently. “As in, flying a plane?”
Actually, I was thinking more like a space shuttle. “Yes, a plane. Preferably a fighter jet.”
The woman clasped her hands on top of the desk, pushing her name badge forwards on the prow of her left breast. It said Margaret.
“Mr Kelly, I’m not sure Jobfinders are the people you want to be speaking to. Have you tried at…”
“The RAF?” Kelly realigned his gaze at eye height. “Yes, I’ve just come from there. They rejected me because ten years ago I made the mistake of having asthma. I mean, asthma!”
“Mr Kelly, this has obviously been a nasty blow to you. Maybe you should go home and…”
“I can’t,” Kelly muttered down towards his lap. “My flatmate’s stolen my girlfriend. I think they might still be there. I don’t want to, er…” He trailed off. When he glanced up again, Margaret was looking at him with the sort of expression normally reserved for orphaned puppies.
“Oh, you poor dear…”
Oh please, not the sympathy. Not right now.
“I’m sure I can put in a nice word at British Airways and…”
“Not an airline,” said Kelly. “Just…” He took a measured breath. “No.”
The woman resettled herself in her chair. “Well then, I’m afraid your list of options is a little on the short side, dear.”
Kelly nodded. “I know.”
He rested his hands on the edge of the desk, still turning his keys round and round. Margaret reached over and took them off him. She set them down in the middle of the desk. Kelly watched her hands as they returned to her own territory. She gently clasped them again.
“You really want to be a pilot, don’t you.”
“Since I was six,” said Kelly, his voice flat.
“Well then.” The woman smiled, forming deep creases in her layers of powdery makeup. “Maybe I can help you.” She opened a drawer and started sifting through it. Kelly watched with growing intensity, one hand slowly closing on the painted edge of the desk.
“Now, technically speaking, we’re supposed to confirm all jobs before offering them.” She placed a slip of paper beside his keys, then winked at him. “So if anyone asks, I didn’t give you that.”
Hesitantly, Kelly picked up the paper. On it was a rural-sounding address and a name. “Jasmine Black?”
Margaret nodded. “Very nice young lady. She came in not half an hour before you did. Said she was looking for a qualified pilot who was willing to get his hands dirty. Wouldn’t give anything other than her name and that address.”
Come again?
“She asked for a pilot?” Kelly asked slowly. “Specifically for a pilot?”
Who advertises for a pilot at Jobfinders?
“That’s what she said.” Margaret looked around mysteriously then leant across the table. “Between you and me, I don’t think she was entirely, you know.” She tapped the side of her nose.
Not entirely what? Sane? Honest? Heterosexual?
Kelly decided the best option was to nod.
“But, if you want to see what it’s about…” Margaret settled back in her chair. “Be my guest.”
Kelly looked down at the address. On closer inspection, it was written on the back of a pharmacy receipt.
Who buys eight packs of Panadol, four of Day Nurse and thirty rolls of surgical bandages?
“Did she mention what the aircraft was?”
“Sorry, no.”
Probably a scam. I’ll turn up and get mugged by a few of her friends.
Kelly turned the paper over a few times. Then he reached across the table and grabbed his keys. “I must be mad.”
Margaret caused a few more creases in her makeup. “It’s not madness if you don’t let the world beat you, ducky.”
Please don’t talk about beating!
When the boffins at Ford had design the Focus, they probably hadn’t been thinking about the sort of roads that lead up to Baxter’s Farm.
If this place were any further into the back end of beyond, it would be Yorkshire.
Kelly dropped the clutch, pressed down the accelerator to build up some revs and slipped into first gear. Gently, he eased the clutch up again. The car initially growled, but was soon climbing out of the mud.
“There’s a good girl,” Kelly murmured. Once the ground was firmer, he applied a little more pressure with his right foot and switched straight to third. The next turning was proceeded by a warning sign, the impact of the bold lettering somewhat diminished by the faded pink paint.
“Hidden Entrance,” Kelly read off. “Baxter’s Farm.” Here we go. He switched down and swung the steering wheel.
The gate looked like it had ceased to be an obstacle some time ago. The farm buildings themselves were little better. What the sun hadn’t bleached, the weather had stained, until the walls were a patchwork quilt of green mould and bone-coloured wood.
Kelly pulled up in the middle of the yard and got out of the car. “Hello?”
A pair of crows took off, cawing, from a nearby tree, but otherwise there was silence. Kelly slammed the car door. “Anyone here?”
“Hello?” Rusted hinges creaked and an odd figure stepped out of the barn.
Kelly looked the woman up and down. Jasmine Black (if it was her) had a lithe, almost androgynous frame, with a marked absence of womanly curves, or indeed curves of any kind. The gender-neutrality continued onto her face, where clean, boyish features competed for space with wide, bird-like eyes. All this was topped off by short, ragged hair that looked like it had been hacked off with a knife. As the woman marched over towards the car, each step purposeful, Kelly also noticed that she was barefoot.
“Jasmine Black.” She held out a hand. “But call me Jaz.”
Up close, the woman was tall, barely an inch off six foot and with a couple to spare over Kelly himself. Doing his best to ignore the advantage, Kelly took the offered hand. He was curious to note that it was encased in a battered leather glove, and more curious to note that neither the glove nor the long sleeve that reached down to it were mirrored on the other side. Somehow he didn’t figure her for a Michael Jackson fan.
“Gabriel Kelly. But call me Kelly.”
Jaz gave a lopsided grin. “What’s the matter? Don’t like your name?”
Kelly half-smiled back. Her accent was thick as churned butter and just recognisable enough to narrow down to a country. What’s an American doing looking for a British pilot? “Don’t like yours?”
Jaz gave his hand an extra squeeze. “I like ya already. This way.”
Kelly flexed his right hand as he followed her towards the barn. His dad would have approved of her handshake, even if it was a little cold…
Something glinted in the light and he cast his eyes down to ground level. Below her baggy combats, Jaz had a metal plate attached to the back of each heel.
Interesting…
His gaze wandered back to the covered arm.
“So, you wanna fly with us?”
Jerked out of his thoughts, Kelly fumbled for an answer. “I’m thinking about it. What sort of aircraft do you have?”
Jaz chuckled. “You’ll see.” She opened the side door to the barn just wide enough to get her narrow frame through. “Wait there.” She tapped him on the chest with her gloved right hand, then slipped inside, closing the door after her. With nothing else to do, Kelly listened.
“Alright, clear the decks. I wanna show our new pilot the kite.”
There was a muffled noise, like a dog sneezing.
“You can finish it later. Come on, come on!”
At last the door opened. Jaz beckoned with the gloved hand. “This way, Kelly. You’re in for a real treat.”
Not completely reassured, Kelly stepped through the door after her. The interior of the barn was well lit by the numerous holes in the roof, but even so it took a second for his eyes to adjust from the brightness outside. When they did, they widened to their fullest extent.
Mary Mother of…
“Beautiful, ain’t she.”
Kelly said nothing. He just stood, drinking in every detail. The plane was roughly the size of a jumbo jet, but stouter and more angular in the midsection. The swept-back wings were narrow, with power-block engines unlike anything Kelly had ever seen on land, air or sea. The cockpit sat on top of a wedge-like nose, below which the flat belly had hinged downwards to form a ramp into a dingy hold. Walking slowly around the craft, Kelly noted how the plated underside lifted at the back, splitting into a perfect swallow-tail. Along one of the elegant points was some stencilled lettering.
Presul?
“Unusual name for a jet,” he said out loud.
“Means ‘dancer’ or ‘protector’,” said Jaz, appearing at his shoulder. “Mostly we just call her Dancer.”
Kelly nodded slowly. “Right.” He frowned, then reached up to feel an awkward section of the metal. It looked as if it’d been patched a good deal more times than once.
“We’re always having problems with that,” said Jaz. “You’ll pull a grand turn and suddenly: bang!” Catching Kelly’s expression, she added, “No worries though. Dorilus is real sure he’s got it fixed this time.”
Kelly raised an eyebrow. “Right,” he repeated. Completing the circuit, he stepped back enough to see the entire craft at once.
“So… What d’ya think?” asked Jaz.
“I’m thinking if this is a scam, you put a lot of work into it,” said Kelly bluntly.
Jaz laughed. “It’s not a scam. It’s a Hirundo Space Scouter. The Rustica model, if you wanna get technical, though it’s had a few mods here and there.” She shrugged. “Dorilus can’t stand things outta the box.”
Kelly replayed the words in his head. Then he rearranged them and tried again. They still didn’t make any sense.
“A Space Scouter,” he repeated.
“You got it,” said Jaz.
“As in, something that flies around in space.”
“Preeeetty much.” She drew out the first vowel in a sing song manner.
Kelly turned to face her properly and took a measured breath. “I hope you don’t mind if I’m completely blunt.”
“Go ahead,” said Jaz.
“You’re utterly bonkers.”
Jaz tipped her head quizzically to one side. “That’s a funny word. What’s it mean?”
“It means you’re crazy,” said Kelly. “Cracked. Barking. Taken the big pink balloon to cuckoo land.”
Jaz appeared to consider the list. “I like ‘barking’ the best. Ya know, you’re damn good with words.”
Kelly shook his head. Well, it was worth a try. “Nice meeting you.”
He started walking towards the door. With surprisingly agility, Jaz skipped round in front of him. “Don’t you wanna hear about the job?”
Kelly gave her a hard look, but he stopped. “Let me see if I’ve got things straight so far. You own a spaceship.”
“Yep.”
“It can travel into space.”
“Yep.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’re not a member of NASA.”
Jaz looked momentarily baffled. “Oh, right! Dem. No.”
Them… Kelly mentally corrected.
“Or RKA or BNSC.”
“Alright, now ya lost me. But no.”
Kelly momentarily closed his eyes. “What I’m trying to get at is: why do you have a spaceship and, more importantly, why on Earth would you want me to fly it?”
The corner of Jaz’s mouth twitched. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t ya just say so?”
“Alright.” Kelly folded his arms. “I don’t believe you.”
Jaz mimicked his posture. “Why not?”
“Because…” Kelly struggled to find words. “Because people don’t have spaceships. Not in London. It just doesn’t happen.”
Jaz appeared to consider the statement. “Really?”
“Really,” said Kelly.
“That’s a shame.”
Reaching up, Jaz grasped the back of her tattered jumper and started to pull it over her head. The torso that was unveiled was clad in a karki tank-top and heavily decorated in white scars, but that wasn’t what held Kelly’s attention like a vice. Jaz dropped the garment to the floor and removed her glove, letting it fall on top.
Kelly goggled.
From hand to shoulder, Jaz’s entire right arm was robotic. There was no attempt at any sort of covering, so he could see straight through to the inner workings. The design was chunky and practical, thick metal struts coupled together with sturdy ball-and-socket joints, and moved by an array of pistons and gears. Wires and hydraulic tubes wove in and out of the mechanisms like veins, protected by the heftier metalwork around them. But it was the hand that completed it all. It had every joint a hand should have. It moved naturally. No prosthetic was that good.
“I suppose,” said Jaz casually. “People don’t have these either.” She flexed the arm.
Kelly swallowed. “Not like that they don’t.” He hesitated. “What er… What happened?”
“Sigaulian bracler ripped it off at the joint.” Jaz winced at the memory. “I was gonna try retrieving it but Spanner sedated me. Ah well.” She shrugged. “I got this done by a struxin on Hanna. Did pretty well, considering it was his first human.” She stretched both arms out in front of her, palms together. “Touch longer, but no biggy. Got him to do my ankles too.”
Kelly raised an eyebrow. And there’s my cue... “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” He stepped past her and headed for the door.
“Hey!” Jaz called after him. “Don’t be a coward all your life.”
“There’s a difference between cowardice and having half a brain,” Kelly returned without looking round.
“Well,” said Jaz. “We’ll be taking off at midnight if ya find the other half.”
Kelly slammed the door of the barn after him.
It wasn’t until he reached the top of the stairs that Kelly remembered the other reason he was pissed off.
Oh, shit…
He listened at the door for a moment before turning his key in the lock. The tiny flat seemed deserted.
Some luck at last.
Kelly dumped his keys on the rickety side table and took off his jacket. It was an old airforce one, the wings sewn to the breast seeming to taunt him. He threw it in the direction of the nearest coat peg and, blinking rapidly, stormed through the beer-can-strewn living space into the bathroom. Throwing both sink taps on full, he chunked a handful of water over his face. Then another one, scrubbing his fingertips against his skin. At last he leant his hands on the sink edge and stared into the mirror.
“Why me?” he muttered out loud.
The ginger-haired reflection didn’t have an answer. The strong features remained as stern as ever, like well-constructed fortifications. The military haircut didn’t give an inch. Only the grey eyes wavered as the water ran off his skin.
“Crazy woman,” he said. “What sort of idiot does she think I am?”
He looked away from the mirror, shaking his head. One who talks to himself!
He turned off the taps and went back to the living room. Finding a bin-bag, he picked up the beer cans. Then the pizza boxes. Then the junk mail. He almost added Gary’s DVD collection, but decided against it.
Why that idiot can never clean up after himself…
He deposited the bag outside for the bin men and returned to tackle the wine stains in the mould-coloured carpet. He was still trying to tackle them when he heard another key in the door. Kelly sat back on his heels, ready to make a quick exit. But Gary was alone.
“Oh, hey Kelly.”
“Hey.” Traitorous bastard.
Gary ran his fingers through his highlights. “Sorry about the mess. I had a few mates over last night. You know how it is.”
No, I don’t. _You’re always the one having parties._ “Don’t worry about it.”
Gary nodded, tapping his hand on the side table. “Look, Kelly…”
“Forget it.” Kelly went back to scrubbing the stain.
“I never meant…”
“I said forget it.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“So…” started Gary. “We’re cool?”
You stole my girlfriend, you bastard! “Yeah, we’re cool.”
The relief was evident in Gary’s voice. “Great. I was worried, you know, that you’d do something stupid.”
Like what exactly? Disembowel you with bread knife?
“I mean,” his flatmate continued. “I know you really liked her.”
Make that a spoon.
“And I really didn’t mean to go behind your back.”
I’m going to kill you, Gary.
“It’s just, sometimes you realise something’s meant to be…”
I’m going to fucking kill you.
“…and you can’t stop and think. You just...”
With my bare hands.
“…go for it.”
Kelly stopped scrubbing. He gazed down at the stain in the carpet, currently the colour of strawberry ice-cream. “Thanks,” he murmured.
“Sorry?”
Kelly dropped the cloth and stood up. “What’s the time?”
Gary glanced at his watch. “Coming up to eleven. Why?”
Shit.
Kelly turned and sprinted into his room. He grabbed a holdall from under the bed and started throwing clothes into it. It was a second before Gary’s bemused face appeared round the door.
“Kelly? You alright, mate?”
Kelly scooped the books off his side-table. “Fantastic.”
There was a pause while Gary assessed the scene. “Mate, you don’t have to leave!”
“Yes, I do.” He picked up Sarah’s picture. “Here. Keep the frame”
Gary took the photo. “Er...”
Kelly added his flightbook and zipped up the bag. “And do me a favour, box up the rest of my stuff.”
He slung the bag’s strap over one shoulder and headed for the exit. He paused at the door just long enough to retrieve his jacket from the floor and his keys from the side table. He shoved the latter in the former’s pocket and grabbed the doorknob.
“Kelly?” Gary’s voice still held some of its joker attitude, but it was failing fast. “Where are you going?”
Kelly let go of the door. He turned to face his friend of eight years. “Somewhere new.”
Then he walked out.
Kelly waited until he was on a relatively straight section of motorway before he flicked open his phone, dialling a number from memory.
“You’ve reached Dawn Hutchinson,” came the reply after a few rings. “I’m sorry, but I’m not in at the moment. Please leave a message.”
Kelly wet his lips as the beep sounded. “Hey, mum. It’s Gabriel. Just letting you know that I might be out of the country for a bit. And er, you may not be able to reach me on my mobile. I haven’t seen you for…” He tried to calculate, but quickly gave up. “Anyway, just phoning to say goodbye. So… Bye.”
He hung up and glanced at the car’s clock.
11:37. Shit.
He overtook a red mini, followed by a weaving Chelsea tractor. This left him stranded in the fast lane behind a battered white van. Well, possibly white. There was enough filth on it for some amusing person to write “If you think this is dirty, you should get in bed with the driver!” across the back.
Why do people still think that’s funny?
While he contemplated undertaking, Kelly navigated through his contacts. Finding the number he wanted, he pressed call.
“Hello?” The voice was female and sounded far too cheerful for the modern world.
Kelly hesitated. “Hello. Is Geoffrey Kelly there?”
“He’s working late, I’m afraid. Can I help?”
Kelly felt a guilty sense of relief. “No, just tell him Gabriel called.”
“Oh, you’re Gabriel! Gosh, your father’s told me so much about you.”
Yes, and he told us absolutely nothing about you. “Well, I was just calling to say goodbye really. I’m...”
“Oh, here he his!” The voice became more muffled as the woman covered the receiver. “It’s Gabriel! I’ll pass you over.”
The van moved back into a more respectable lane and Kelly took the opportunity to race forwards.
“Gabriel? Is that you?”
He took a slow breath. “Yes, it’s me.”
“Oh…” There was a distinctly uncomfortable silence.
“I’ve still got your jacket,” said Kelly helpfully.
“Oh, good.” Geoffrey Kelly hesitated. “Have you thought of joining up yourself? There are some great careers in…”
“Yes, Dad. That’s why I joined Air Cadets, remember?”
“Ah, yes, of course. How did that go?”
Kelly gripped the steering wheel. “They didn’t let me in.”
“Air Cadets didn’t let you in?”
Kelly gritted his teeth. “No, Dad, the RAF didn’t let me in.”
“Oh, sorry Gabriel. But, you know, it’s a hard thing to get into and…”
“I worked hard, Dad.” I worked like a fucking dog. “They didn’t let me in because of my asthma.”
“Oh.” A long pause. “You have asthma?”
Kelly glanced at the clock. 11:49… “Dad, I’m going to be late for something.”
“Alright.” The relief was evident. “Was there something in particular you were phoning about?”
Kelly caught up with a silver sports car and swung into the centre lane to undertake it. “Yes, there was. But I’ve just realised there’s no point.”
“Why?”
“You’re not going to notice.” He snapped the phone shut and stuffed it back into his pocket. The clock changed to 11:50. Kelly glared at it. Alright. If that’s the game you’re going to play…
He pulled back into the fast lane and pressed his foot to the floor. The needle on the speedometer flickered, then started climbing. Kelly kept half an eye on it as he dodged from one lane to another.
80…87…92…93…
“Come on,” he muttered. “The specs said 111 and you are damn well going to do 111.”
The needle continued to creep while he switched his focus to the road signs flicking past. 2 miles… He glanced at the clock. And eight minutes to go. Come on car…
The needle passed the hundred mark just as the exit came into view. Kelly glanced in the side mirror, then through his window before cutting across every lane and entering the slip road like a British-made blue bullet. He applied just enough brake to make the first sharp turning, then piled on the revs again. Ignoring the beeping horns, he glanced back at the clock.
11:56! Who gave you permission to get to 11:56?
The car jerked as it hit the first rut in the road. Kelly swore and changed down. He switched the headlights to full beam and surged ahead through the country lanes. Where’s that damn farm…
Approaching headlights gave him just enough time to half bury the abused Ford Focus in the hedge. The tractor squeezed past and Kelly revved the car to near maximum before letting the clutch back up. He let the car complete its leap out of the hedge before switching straight back to fourth gear. The clock read 11:59.
Come on farm. Where are you hiding…
Suddenly the swinging beams picked out a “Hidden Entrance” sign. Grabbing the handbrake with one hand, Kelly swung the steering wheel with the other. The car twirled through the gate like the heaviest ballet dancer in history, finally coming to a muddy rest in the middle of the yard. Kelly let out a breath.
Well, that’s probably the first time anyone’s ever done that in a Ford Focus. He got out and patted the bonnet. “Good girl.”
“Well,” said a familiar voice. “Ya sure like to make an entrance!”
Jaz was leaning in the shadows against the barn, a smug smile firmly in place. Kelly decided to ignore it.
“Am I late?” He opened the boot and pulled out his bag.
“Twelve on the dot,” said Jaz. “You were cuttin’ it fine.”
“I like living dangerously,” said Kelly dryly.
“Swell,” said Jaz. She pushed off the wall and started walking towards him, the moonlight glinting off her metal arm. “How are ya at surprises?”
Kelly closed the boot and locked the car before replying. “I see to have coped with the ones you’ve given me so far.”
“They get a little more…” Jaz seemed to consider her words. “Exciting from this point.” She grinned. “Wanna meet the rest of the crew?”
Kelly shrugged. “How surprising can they be?”
Jaz’s grin broadened. “Now that’s the attitude. Come on.” She twirled on the spot and started back the way she’d come.
Shouldering his bag, Kelly followed her. “This doesn’t mean I’m definitely taking the job,” he called after her.
“Course not,” said Jaz, opening the door.
Re-entering the barn, Kelly almost expect the space ship to have vanished, but it stood exactly where he’d left it, although the streaks of moonlight that penetrated the slatted walls gave it a dreamy quality that was almost unreal. A pair of lanterns spilled pools of green light onto the dusty concrete, and in one of them sat a hunched figure.
“Here he is, Spanner,” called out Jaz as they approached. “Told ya he’d come.”
Kelly squinted at the figure as it turned its head towards them. His mind was having problems fitting what he was seeing into a human face. Spanner had deep set eyes over a jowly muzzle that protruded a good couple of inches further than the rest of the face. That and the long, drooping ears that fell from each side of the head gave the appearance of a strangely mutated spaniel.
Below the head were a pair of broad shoulders, attached to which were long muscular arms that ended with four-fingered hands. The sturdy torso continued down into a single, solid leg, ending with an elongated foot. The entire creature was covered with thick, sparrow-brown fur.
“Er…” Kelly began.
The creature blinked. Kelly noticed that its pupils were rectangular, like coin slots.
“Spanner,” said Jaz. “Meet Kelly. Kelly, Spanner. He’s our doctor and ship’s cook.”
Spanner made a bizarre growling sound in the back of his throat, then let out a spluttering snort. Jaz gave his shoulder a light push.
“Oh hush! David was terrible anyway.”
It was difficult to tell on such a strange face, but Kelly got the impression Spanner wasn’t convinced.
“Jaz?” he said quietly. “How are you talking to er, him?”
The woman stared at him blankly for a moment. “Oh, right. Spanner? Would you do the honours?”
The creature got to his… foot. Standing, it became suddenly apparent how long his arms were and what purpose they served. They easily reached the ground, allowing Spanner to rest on the backs of his hands, forming a tripod. He moved towards Kelly like a man on crutches, swinging the single leg between his powerful arms.
Kelly stepped back. “I’m not sure…”
Slipping neatly behind him, Jaz halted his retreat. “Now, don’t be nervous. It doesn’t hurt really.”
“What doesn’t?” said Kelly, almost hypnotised by the advancing alien.
Spanner stopped in front of him, the drooping face almost sorrowful in appearance. He tilted his head slightly to look at Jaz.
“Alright,” Kelly heard her say. “THREE!”
Kelly jumped in some arbitrary direction, but Spanner had already grabbed his shoulder. The creature had bizarre hands, two dextrous fingers facing two, like a chameleon. Their grip was like iron. The metaphor probably extended better to what was going on behind Kelly’s back. Jaz had her hands around both his wrists, and neither metal nor flesh felt much like being shaken off.
Kelly struggled anyway. Not much happened.
“Hey! What are you…”
“Just…” Jaz started. “Hold still for a…”
But Kelly wasn’t listening. He was too busy being transfixed by Spanner. Gripping onto the human’s shoulder for support, the creature was using his other hand to retrieve something from a pouch on his belt. Something sharp and unmistakably needle-like.
Not bloody likely!
Kelly squirmed like an eel. Jaz changed her grip to lock her arms around his, leaving her hands free to hold his head still. Kelly felt the grip on his shoulder tighten as Spanner steadied himself. The creature moved his other hand up to Kelly’s neck.
“No,” he gasped. “I’m not agreeing to this!”
The creature made a gurgling sound in the back of its throat, as if soothing a child.
“He says try to relax,” translated Jaz. “You might feel a little sting.”
Relax? “How the hell am I supposed to…”
The pain was instant, overpowering and seemed to emanate from every cell in his body. Kelly screwed up his eyes, fighting the urge to scream. A babble of outlandish syllables streamed through his mind. For a few moments, while he reeled in agony, Kelly could see a face behind his eyelids. A face with ink-black eyes that seemed to stare right through him, considering and evaluating. Then, just as suddenly, it was gone.
Gasping, he opened his eyes. The pain had vanished, leaving behind just a steady throbbing from the back of his neck. He also realised he was no longer being held and collapsed to the floor, hands fumbling to investigate the damage. His fingertips encountered a thin piece of metal sticking out of his skin, not nearly far enough to get a grip.
He looked accusingly up at Jaz. “What in god’s name…”
“You need this,” she said flatly. She held out her hand, on which was resting a tiny earpiece, like a hearing aid.
Kelly blinked.
“Trust me,” said Jaz. “It’ll all make sense if you just put this in your ear.”
He looked across at Spanner, now resting back on his single heel, then up at Jaz again.
“Please,” she added as an afterthought.
Kelly hesitated, then took the device. It fitted snugly inside his ear, far back enough to be out of sight. Standing up, he opened his mouth to say something jarring, but somebody else got there first.
“Possible side-effects of the implant include dizziness, nausea, neck-pain and feelings of paranoia, but all are rare.”
The voice rolled, growled and grumbled, but it was English. Perfect English. Kelly slowly turned to face Spanner. He had his head tilted slightly to one side, the long ears making the pose strangely comical.
“The earpiece has no known side-effects in human’s,” Spanner continued. “But if you experience any problems, do let me know.”
Kelly blinked. He realised he could still hear the bizarre sounds the creature was making, but the simultaneous translation provided by the earpiece was so synchronised to be almost eerie.
“Um,” he started. “Hello?”
The creature glance towards Jaz, then back at Kelly.
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. We haven’t been properly introduced.” He stood up again, straightening his spine as much as his bent-over posture would allow. “I am Spanner uff Munger.”
Kelly didn’t respond.
“I’m a canilupe,” Spanner added. He glanced at Jaz again, as if for reassurance. Something in Kelly’s head clicked and he attempted a tepid smile.
“I’m Gabriel Kelly,” he said. “I’m er… I’m human.”
There was a sudden noise. So unexpected was the sound, it took Kelly a moment to realise Jaz was clapping.
“Swell,” she said, beaming. “All happy families. Now let’s get out of here before…”
There was another sound, the crackle of a speaker system on the ship coming into effect.
“Jaz, much as I detest breaking up the little party you all must be having out there, I thought you might like to know something.”
The voice was clipped and precise. The noises underneath it, a series of sharp clicks and low buzzes.
Jaz pulled an object about the size and shape of a lady-shave out of her pocket and held it to her mouth. “What is it, Dorilus?”
“As you say on New Earth, ‘We have company.’”
To Kelly’s surprise, Jaz grinned. “Sounds like it’s time to go.” She grabbed his bag and one of the lanterns. “Last one on board is gurret-meat!”
She was gone before Kelly could open his mouth to ask what a gurret was. Spanner the canilupe was already knuckling after her, pausing only briefly to attach the second lantern to his belt. Kelly took a deep breath.
Right. Here we go then…
He caught Spanner up at the ramp. The moment they were both on board, Jaz was on her radio again.
“We’re in, Dorilus. Get this bird ready to fly.”
There was no reply. Just a deep grumbling in the bowels of the ship. The ramp started rising, but Jaz was already clambering up a ladder bolted to the side of the hold.
“Keep up, Kelly.”
Kelly glanced round in time to catch Spanner disappearing through a door at the far end of the hold.
“But…”
“He’s got to go round the long way,” said Jaz. “Canilupes don’t work well with ladders.”
Kelly followed her without another word. The ladder ended below a sturdy hatch. A single button press caused it to stubbornly not open. Undeterred, Jaz gave it a sharp punch with her metal hand. Grinding and groaning, it slid back.
“Just gotta be firm with them,” Jaz commented as she climbed out of sight.
Kelly decided not to comment. The room they entered was the size of an average suburban kitchen and mostly filled by a pair of control desks, each with a floor-mounted chair behind it. One wall was broken by a pair of double doors. The other was mostly window.
Jaz slapped Kelly on the back, causing him to wince. “Welcome to the hot-box. This is where we fly the ship from. This…” She sat in one of the chairs. “…is the Prime seat. You’ll be flying Second today.”
Kelly sat down, eyes roving over the controls. The panel was a battered array of switches, buttons and dials, with a sturdy joystick at the lower edge. Along the top was a row of digital displays and meters, already flickering into life as, somewhere, the mysterious Dorilus prepped the craft.
“The controls are identical on each desk,” explained Jaz. “But the Prime side overrides the Second. This button…” She pressed it. “…unlocks both control columns. Then we’ve got landing gear, front and back lights, ramp…”
“…HUD, throttle, thrust vector, list control, bank assist,” Kelly finished. He glanced across to the other chair. “I can read, you know.”
Jaz flashed him a devilish grin. “Don’t be so sure the labels match the function. Dorilus has rewired these desks at least once, and he can’t read. Not English anyways. ”
“Excuse me,” came a voice over the speakers. “Is there any chance of us taking off any time soon?”
Jaz flicked a switch on her desk. “We’re leaving, we’ve leaving!” Glancing over at Kelly, she pointed at the switch and mouthed “intercom”.
Kelly nodded. Despite himself, the corner of his mouth was twitching. Jaz turned her attention forward and started pressing buttons.
“I’m all set here, Dorilus,” she said. “Everything ready at your end?”
“Yes, and has been for the last two minutes. Kindly get us in the air.”
There was a scraping of metal and Kelly turned to see the double-doors at the back of the cockpit opening. Spanner was standing in the gap.
“Are we leaving yet?”
Jaz shook the control column. “Rush rush rush. Anyone would think we were in some sort of trouble.”
“Jaz …”
“Alright, alright. Switching to vertical thrust now.” The grumble of the engine changed to a deep growl. “Spanner, you might wanna go rearwards.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” said the canilupe. “I’d prefer to see what we crash into.”
“Always Mr Negative,” muttered Jaz.
“Forty-five seconds until contact,” said Dorilus. “Make it _now Jaz.”_
“Alright…” She cracked her knuckles. “Everyone hold onto something solid.”
“On this ship?” said Spanner.
Jaz punched a red button. Kelly felt his stomach make a bid for freedom as the entire ship lurched into the air. There it hovered, listing slightly from side to side while the great engines churned and roared.
“Landing gear up,” Jaz muttered. “Losing vertical blast plates… now.”
For a split second, Kelly could feel the craft dropping. Then he was pressed to the back of his seat as the forward thrust kicked in. There was a splintering of wood against the front window and they were out, rising into the starry sky like something out of the Wright brothers’ nightmares. They gained altitude fast, settling on a cruising height far above the cloud line.
Smiling to herself, Jaz locked the control column in place. “And you guys say I can’t do takeoffs.”
Spanner released his deathgrip on the doorframe. “They’re never exactly confidence-inspiring.”
“I thought it was very smooth myself,” said Kelly supportively.
Jaz flashed him a smile. “Thanks.” She returned her attention to her control desk. “The next step is to get away from this backwater planet. How are our friends doing, Dorilus?”
“I’d say they’re doing very well,” came the answer, dry as sandpaper. “They’re right behind us.”
A light above Jaz’s head flashed. Grimacing, she flicked the switch next to it. “Hello? This is the Dancer.”
The response was a mixture of high-pitched screeches and squeals that seemed intent on drilling through Kelly’s eardrums. The translation was little better.
“Space scouter Dancer, this is the shrake ship Balla-naska. You are harbouring two fugitives from shrake justice. You will increase your altitude to orbiting level and prepare for boarding.”
Screwing up his face against the sound, Kelly fought the urge to block his ears. Jaz appeared unaffected.
“Sorry?” she said. “The connection is a little fuzzy. Did you say go down?”
With that she forced the control column forward. Kelly gripped the edge of his seat as the ship dived like a falcon. A sprawl of deciduous forest rushed up to meet them. Kelly felt he could almost count the leaves before Jaz finally pulled up. Suddenly the view was half sky again.
She reached up to flick off the external comm channel. “Ideas anyone?”
“Just one,” said Dorilus over the intercom. “Never do that again! Do you have any idea what an unprepared dive does to the front stabilisers?”
“Any useful ideas?” said Jaz. “Spanner?”
Kelly glanced back. The canilupe was curled up in the doorway, large ears held over his eyes. He also appeared to be whimpering.
“Spanner?” Jaz repeated, not taking her eyes off the speeding landscape.
“He’s busy,” said Kelly tactfully.
Steering with one hand, Jaz brought up the on-screen display. After only a few minutes on the ship, Kelly couldn’t call himself an expert on its systems, but the distance between flashing dots one and two didn’t look optimistic.
“Shit,” muttered Jaz. “They’re following us.”
“People have a tendency to do that when they’re chasing you.”
“Shut up, Dorilus.” She made an adjustment to one the dials and a set of numbers appeared by each dot. “And they’re catching up.”
“Bloody hell,” murmured Kelly.
Jaz sat back in her seat. “I know. They’re flying a fucking transport ship!”
“No, I mean I think I’ve got an idea.”
For the first time since his assault in the barn, Kelly found himself the centre of attention.
“Well?” prompted Dorilus. It could have been Kelly’s imagination, but he sounded less than optimistic.
Kelly reached forward to point at the display. “Can you fly into that?”
Jaz followed his finger. “That? That’s a thunderstorm.”
Thought so.
“Would it damage the ship?”
“Of course not,” said Dorilus.
“Would screw the navigation half-way to hell though,” Jaz added, looking thoughtful.
There was a long pause while both parties seemed to consider the idea.
“Do it,” said Dorilus.
“Already am,” replied Jaz.
The ship banked sharply as the new course was chosen. At the rear of the cockpit, Spanner groaned.
As the crackling clouds raced towards them, Kelly crossed his fingers under the desk.
“Get ready to go full throttle, Dorilus,” said Jaz. “I’m going to try running the fence. Kelly, any of those readings go red, press something to make ‘em green again!”
Before Kelly could answer, they entered the storm. The on-screen display flickered, then winked out. Ribbons of lighting creased the boiling clouds around the ship as rain lashed against the window.
“Do it now, Jaz.”
She shook her head. “Give them a moment to reach the storm.”
They gave it a moment.
“Jaz…”
“Alright, alright. Going up and out.” She wrenched the control column back.
Abruptly, the ship went vertical. There was a soft yelp as Spanner tried to grab the doorframe and missed. Kelly vaguely wondered if he was alright. He would have looked back, but the g-force pinning him to his seat was quite definite on the matter.
They broke out of the storm clouds and kept climbing. Kelly could feel his seat shaking as the ship fought six trillion trillion kilograms worth of gravitational force. He also felt the precise moment it won.
The period of zero-gravity that followed the Dancer’s escape from Earth was short-lived. There was a muffled clunk and Kelly found himself falling back into his seat.
“Remind me to get the gravity sensor fixed,” said Jaz. “That delay is getting insane.”
But Kelly was barely listening. Standing up, he gazed out of the window. The stars seemed so much crisper out here, as if they’d been cut into the fabric of space with a Stanley knife.
“We’re really in space,” he said.
“Yep,” said Jaz. “Really. And what’s more…” She brought back the on-screen display. “Looks like we lost our shrake friends.”
“It is likely they’ll soon realise we’ve left the planet.”
“True,” said Jaz. “Let’s get to the Jupiter worm and get outta here.”
Jupiter what?
Kelly settled back into his seat. This was going to be an interesting few days.