'Before we do anything,' said Trevor, busy gathering scattered books and sheets of paper, 'let's make ourselves comfortable. We can't be as comfortable as we were on the ocean bed, because we now have to conserve energy. But we can tidy our apartments, make the beds, and check our supplies. We'll probably need to ration our food.'
Leaving his brother to tidy the control room, Russell headed to his own apartment. Strewn ornaments blocked his way on the stairs and landings so he set them in order as he passed. He sat Napoleon's bust back on his pedestal, re-hung the smiling Mona Lisa, and re-arranged the silk roses that reminded him of his dear old granny's cottage garden. On the top landing he rolled the heavy stone statue of Happy Buddha back into his corner, and with a merry chuckle, patted him on his bald head – Happy Buddha's cheerful face always made him chuckle.
It looked as though a hurricane had blown through his apartment, with the kitchen hit hardest. Cupboards and drawers gaped open and the fridge door swung on its hinges. Eggs, jam, vegetables, flour, ketchup, crockery, cutlery, pots and pans; everything was spread across the ceiling, floor and walls in a slimy mess.
'Give a little whistle!' said Russell, rolling up his shirt sleeves and filling a bucket with cold water. He didn't think the situation was so bad, they were alive and well, that was the main thing. But if they were going to be stuck out here for a day or two, he did think a decent energy supply would make life more pleasant.
The lounge was easier to set straight–but no quicker. One long wall was covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves, and Russell spent almost three hours replacing and re-categorising his books. He slid the last book in place and stood back to admire his collection. Some were old classics, some were childhood favourites, but most were modern works of fiction, all waiting to be read.
He whisked through the two bedrooms and dojo, and returned to the kitchen with his stomach begging for food. He salvaged a hotchpotch of unsavoury fodder and loaded a tray. Expecting his brother had finished tidying his own sparsely furnished apartment, he made straight for the control room.
'Take a look outside,' said Trevor, without turning from his computer or noticing the food.
Russell glanced and almost dropped the tray.
Two spindly creatures dressed in light spacesuits clung to the outside of the invisible wall. Each creature had four legs and two arms, and with a rude awakening, Russell remembered his vision. These creatures were the same shape and size as the insect that wanted to eat him, and he realised his nightmare vision had been a prophetic warning.
'Enough to make you swear, isn't it?' said Trevor, typing furiously. 'But don't worry. I don't know what kind of tools they're using–a can opener for all I care–they can't get in. They can try until their green faces turn pink, or get a double hernia from the effort, or rot with old age; nothing will help, they simply can't get in.'
'You're worried,' said Russell, forcing himself to stand nose-to-nose with the nearest creature. 'And I think they're using something better than a can opener. Looks more like a blowtorch to me.'
'It won't help them.'
'They look like some sort of giant insect.' Russell waved his hand in front of the insect's face. 'They obviously don't realise we can see them.'
'Obviously not.'
'Perhaps we should invite them in for a cup of tea.'
Trevor shot a glance at his brother. 'Don't make me laugh, I'm trying to concentrate. How can you stand so close to those creepy-crawlies? Don't they make your skin crawl?'
'Yes, and I have a horrible nasty feeling about them. I think we're going to need all our cunning if we're to survive against these fellows.'
'Get away from there if it makes you nervous.'
Russell pushed his nose closer, not stopping until it touched the invisible wall. 'I'm standing so close because I have a fear I need to overcome.'
'Since you are that close, what do they look like?'
'Apart from a green face like you said, I can't see them properly. They're wearing a spacesuit.' He thought a moment, remembering his dream. 'But I know what they are, they're a giant species of Mantis.' He shuddered, but wouldn't let himself turn away. 'They've got nimble little claws. It looks like the other Mantis is fiddling with some sort of measuring instrument.'
'Mantis, eh? insect eaters, or by the size of these, meat eaters. Intelligent too.' He followed the other Mantis while it studied the face of its instrument. 'They're examining us at the moment; analysing and studying the Cloud's structure. We must pose quite a problem.'
'If that's all they're doing, why are you worried?'
Trevor's eyes never left his computer screen. He read a newly written page of program, clicked his tongue, corrected a line of code, and carried on writing. With most of his mind engrossed in his work, he said: 'I'm worried they'll try that energy draining trick again. To make us safe, I need to write this new piece of program and I don't know how much time I've got.'
'Then I shall leave you in peace,' said Russell. 'Is there anything you need? Try to eat something.'
'Go and pedal. The last thing we need now is a flat battery.'
~*~
Two hours passed before Russell strolled back into the control room. His forehead glistened with sweat, and drops of perspiration ran down his neck and soaked into a towel draped there.
Trevor lounged with his feet on the desk and a leg of cold chicken in his hands. 'They gave up and went away,' he said. He threw the empty bone onto the tray and licked his fingers. 'I've only this minute finished at the computer. The new program should be okay, but we won't know for sure until they try something. Unfortunately, I can't test it.' He pushed the tray towards Russell. 'Here, tuck in.'
Russell sat, dabbed his brow with the towel and looked out into space. 'Well, I'm glad we're safe, but what do we do when the food runs out? Can't you simply make us invisible and take us somewhere else?'
Pursing his lips, Trevor hesitated before answering. 'There's something I need to explain. I'll put it gently.' He drew a breath. 'There is nowhere else.'
'Nowhere?'
'If we head towards those distant stars over there, and travel at the speed of light, and grow to be one hundred years old, the stars would seem just as far away.'
'Can't we fly faster? After all, it didn't take us long to get here.'
Trevor screwed his eyes shut and concentrated. 'Dear Russell,' he said, opening his eyes and studying his fingernails, 'of course, you're right. Evidently, it is possible to fly faster than light. At the moment, I don't know how. If I had enough time though, I'm sure I could work it out.'
'Oh, you'll come up with something,' said Russell, patting his brother's back. 'As for food, perhaps we can capture one of those green alien bugs and eat them. And who knows, perhaps they fart oxygen.'
'Nothing would surprise me,' chuckled Trevor.
Russell helped himself to a cheese sandwich, and waved it towards the junkyard outside. 'Do you think those other spacecraft suffered the same fate as us?'
'Incredible as it seems, yes.'
'Perhaps we can find food and oxygen on some of those?'
'Yes, I've thought of that too. We have air for at least a year, so that's no immediate problem. We've plenty of water too, but we desperately need food and a stable energy supply.'
'Have we any spacesuits?' asked Russell. 'Can we explore?'
'Russell, my dear young brother, I never dreamed we would find ourselves in a situation like this. I have never even considered the possibility of needing a spacesuit. I'm sorry.'
'Okay,' said Russell, swallowing disappointment along with his sandwich. 'I'll stop asking questions and start working on answers.'
~*~
Three Mantis returned, carrying between them a machine similar to a pneumatic drill. The drill hammered at the Cloud for over an hour, moving at regular intervals, seeking a weak spot.
'Why are they doing that?' asked Russell, as the insects started drilling in yet another position. 'Isn't a forcefield equally strong everywhere?'
'The Cloud's shield isn't really a forcefield,' explained Trevor. 'It's a living organism that tightens its muscles when and where necessary. It's a wall, a shell, a self-adjusting, bullet-proof coat of armour. It's all there is between us and them; it's all there is between us and the ocean, or between us and the vacuum of space.'
'So they can't break in then?'
'Certainly not with that toothpick they're using at the moment. Mind you, it's a powerful tool, and it's using an awful amount of energy. I wonder where they get it from?'
'They steal it,' said Russell. 'Can't we pinch some of it back?'
'No. Like I said, the shield absorbs the energy and uses it all in self-defence. There,' he said, shoulders sinking as he relaxed, 'looks like they've given up.'
Without visible means of propulsion, the Mantis drifted back to their shuttle and disappeared inside. Their shuttle was smaller than the Cloud, and shaped like a dumpy sausage. It had a dull olive-green sheen, reminiscent of mould.
The brothers watched; Trevor with a stiff frown and cold sweaty palms, Russell with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Nothing happened for five long minutes, then a small hatch opened in the shuttle and a cannon snout poked out.
'Uh oh!' said Russell. 'Here comes a broadside. Either get out of here or…'
They heard the little "pop" sound again.
'That was it!' shouted Trevor, jumping to his feet and laughing. 'My program worked! We're safe! The suckers tried to suck the life out of us again, but they didn't suck-ceed.'
Russell's smile erupted into laughter and he clapped his brother's back. 'They've met their match then, ha, ha! Poor creatures, can you picture them scratching their craniums.' His laughter weakened and a glimmer of questioning hope shone from his eyes. 'So this mean we're safe now, we can breath easy? They can't harm us in any way–can they?'
The laughter died. Trevor dropped back into his chair and sighed. 'Yes, we're safe from them, but how long can we last without food?'
The Mantis's cannon drew in, the little hatch closed, and their shuttle turned away and shot off. Surprised by the sudden move, Trevor fumbled with his joysticks and followed.
The Cloud caught up with the alien shuttle and shot past.
'Arghh… I'm so clumsy with these joysticks,' growled Trevor.
'Relax,' said Russell. 'You're doing fine.'
The Mantis shuttle held its course for forty-five minutes. A tiny dot of light appeared ahead and the shuttle slowed. The dot grew into a pale-green sphere, large enough to house a cathedral. It bristled with antennae and dishes. The shuttle docked against its side.
'That's where they live,' muttered Trevor, holding the Cloud at a good distance. 'A tiny artificial planet. Good grief, what a cold and dreary outpost.'
'They must be pretty bored,' said Russell.
'Well, we've given them an interesting puzzle to solve, that'll make a change for them.'
'Yes,' mused Russell, scratching his head. 'The trouble is, they won't leave us alone until they've solved it. Can they solve it?'
'Who knows? Wait and see, they won't give up, they'll be back.'
'Perhaps we should befriend them,' beamed Russell, pleased with his simple idea. 'After all, it's stalemate. We can't hurt them, and they can't hurt us. Surely we can be friends, keep each other company…' He noticed Trevor's sullen face. 'Things aren't looking too bright for us, are they.'
'Well, we've nothing to worry about at the moment. We've got food for the time being, water, air, gravity, warmth… I'm tired. Let's go to bed. I always think better in the mornings.'
~*~
Russell snuggled the duvet under his chin and took three deep breaths. He concentrated on physical perceptions and became aware of his weight against the soft mattress. His hands and brow tingled, and, as he concentrated, the wonderful sensation spread to the rest of his body, filling him with calm. Within seconds, consciousness faded and he slept untroubled for nine hours.
Without Russell's meditation techniques, Trevor's mind screamed a hundred different messages, and each message craved his immediate attention. He tossed and turned, his mind and body rebelling against sleep. After drowsing for two hours, he woke with a pounding headache.
He swallowed two aspirins and groped his way to the control room. 'This is the only place to be,' he rasped, and slumped into his chair. With bloodshot eyes, he stole a glance at the alien's sphere. All was quiet, nothing threatened. He lifted his feet to the desk, leaned back into his chair, and slept for another five hours.
Russell breezed into the control room carrying a large tray of sandwiches and two giant mugs of black, sweet tea.
'My word,' said Trevor, tearing his hungry eyes away from the tray and up at his brother. 'You do look fit and healthy. How can you sleep with all this going on?'
'You've been snoring your head off too,' said Russell, equally surprised at his brother's bright state. 'Eat, and enjoy. The bread isn't as fresh as it could be, and the tea is stone cold. All we have left after this are a few soup packets…then we start eating each other.' He took a sandwich from the pile and grinned. 'Unless you've come up with a solution.'
'Well, we won't find a solution by sitting here stuffing our chubby little faces until the pantry's empty,' said Trevor, feigning a pout. 'But on the other hand, we might think better on a full stomach.' With which he took another sandwich and pressed it into his mouth, making further speech impossible, and leaving his hands free to manoeuvre the joysticks.
He turned the Cloud away from the sphere and raced back to the orbiting junkyard. 'This is where our salvation lays,' he said. 'There must be unimaginable treasures hidden within these derelict spaceships, and somehow or another we're going to find a way of boarding them.'
'Now that's what I call positive thinking,' said Russell. 'We'll soon be home and drinking hot chocolate.'
The brothers stared in all directions. Scattered and forlorn, the once proud spacecraft of countless alien empires tumbled and turned like dead leaves floating on a warm autumn breeze.
Trevor guided the Cloud through a desolate maze of wreckage. Each spacecraft differed immensely in shape and size, and only one in every few hundred appeared undamaged. Each vessel spun haphazardly, held in a gravitational orbit around the distant sphere; each vessel moved in the same direction, but at different speeds and distances according to their mass. Occasionally, they bumped into each other causing even more damage and nudging themselves on new trajectories.
Trevor's mouth dropped wider as each new spaceship slid passed. 'What treasures must be hidden in those magnificent vessels,' he muttered. 'Can you imagine the technology, the intelligence, the knowledge?'
Russell glanced sideways at his brother and raised his eyebrows. 'I was wondering what had happened to the occupants, the aliens who had manned all these spaceships.'
'Yes. Yes. We mustn't forget them,' said Trevor, briefly closing his eyes in prayer. 'But just think…there could be food and power sources…there must be…surely.'
'Oh, we'll find something, no doubt about that,' said Russell. 'Do you think these Mantis are the cause of all this destruction?'
'Obviously. I expect they've all suffered the same fate as us.'
Russell shuddered. 'This is like wandering around a battlefield when the fighting is over; it's sheer meaningless destruction; nothing but cold-blooded disrespect of another's life.'
'Try and concentrate or we'll be two more species of alien who die at their hands,' said Trevor, determined to stay cheerful. 'In the meantime, have you noticed that every single port, or door, or whatever you call it; on every single spaceship, is wide open?'
'Yes, I've noticed. And I know what you're thinking; everything worth stealing has already been taken. Maybe, but most likely they've only taken water.' Russell leaned forward and scratched his head. 'Why do they need so much water?'
'Remind me to ask if we ever meet them. In the meantime, keep your eyes open.'
'Okay,' said Russell, jumping to his feet and stretching his long limbs. He walked around the desk, glancing through invisible walls in every direction. 'What are we looking for?'
'Inspiration! And I won't know it until I see it.'
Shrugging his shoulders, Russell faced his brother. 'I think I'll leave you to it,' he said. 'I'll go and cycle for a while then I'll have a proper workout in my dojo. Give me a call if anything turns up.'
Trevor's brow creased, and his keen eyes flitted restlessly. 'You do that,' he said. 'But don't work up too much of an appetite.'
Left alone, Trevor found it easier to focus; he glided amongst the relics, scanning each spaceship patiently and methodically. He shook his head often and little by little, his mouth drew into a frustrated grimace.
Then he said, 'Ah!' and sat up straight. Far in the distance, a colossal spaceship caught his eye. He picked up the binoculars and studied it closer, and even from a distance he could see it was undamaged. He had seen other colossal spaceships, but they were ungainly and bulky, whereas this was–graceful. Yes, he decided, graceful, like a plump angelfish without fins.
His heart beat faster. He dropped the binoculars and guided the Cloud closer. Something about the spaceship reminded him of human workmanship: the streamlined contours, the smooth finish, the proud lines, as if straight from the brush of a Hollywood artist.
Port and hangar doors gaped open. 'Oh, this is great,' he mumbled, spying a hanger so large he could fly straight in. He headed for the dark opening and considered using his floodlights, but knew that would flatten the battery in five minutes. With a grunt, he backed away and soared over the spaceship's broad convex side. It was at least fifty kilometres across and totally undamaged.
Russell returned to the control room, his skin sparkly clean and rosy pink after a cold shower. He carried two mugs containing cold black tea and a paltry packet of dry biscuits. He sat them on the desk corner and gazed outside. His mouth dropped open.
'You've found it.'
'Well, yes,' said Trevor, misunderstanding his brother's excitement. 'Beautiful, isn't she.'
'The American space shuttle,' spluttered Russell, pointing a shaky finger. 'The Wayfarer, you've found it.'
Following his brother's gaze, Trevor gasped and let his own mouth drop open. Just beyond the giant spaceship's rim spun the missing space shuttle. In his excitement he hadn't noticed the flea-sized vessel, but now, with fingers trembling, he guided the Cloud alongside.
'Now I'm even more convinced,' said Trevor.
'About what?'
'That this gigantic spaceship is our salvation. Look there, the Wayfarer has gone into orbit around it, as if it's found a new parent to snuggle up against for comfort and protection… As if it knows.'
'Yes, it's a good omen,' agreed Russell.
'Let's see if we can board the Wayfarer. We'll need to connect with it somehow.'
'The docking shoot is open,' said Russell. 'The Mantis have obviously been in there before us, but what do you think has happened to the astronauts?'
Trevor grabbed five biscuits and forced them into his mouth. He bent towards his keyboard and started typing. 'Let's get inside and find out,' he said, spitting crumbs in every direction. 'I'll have to be careful. To compensate for my clumsiness, I'll make the joysticks less sensitive.'
'That sounds sensible.'
'Now then, I simply need to match speed and rotation–like that.' He dropped the joysticks and typed in an instruction. 'Open our porthole and make it larger–like that.' He picked up the joysticks again. 'Move over the Wayfarer's docking shoot until it's just inside the Cloud–like that.' He went back to typing. 'And shrink our porthole size until it makes a seal around the shoot–like that!'
Russell stood with hands on hips, following closely. 'It mystifies me how you can type so fast. I'm impressed.'
'My typing? Is that what impresses you? Typing is clumsy and slow. My mind is always waiting for my fingers to catch up, and more often than not they hit the wrong key anyway. This whole method of operating the Cloud is clumsy and slow.'
'Don't be disheartened,' said Russell. 'I'm impressed with the Cloud too. Can you stop us spinning? It's like being on a merry-go-round.'
'Yes, hang on a moment. Gently does it, let's not damage the Wayfarer… A few more adjustments… That's it.' Trevor jumped up. 'Come on. You can climb through into the Wayfarer. It's quite safe. The shuttle doesn't seem to be damaged, there's no air leakage and the pressure has equalised. See if you can find a spacesuit or two.'
'Or an astronaut or two,' suggested Russell. 'Why do I always get the dangerous jobs? Why can't you go?'
'Because you are the chief assistant,' said Trevor, pushing his brother towards the door. 'No, seriously, I need to keep an eye on things this side. Come on, this could be the start of our survival. With a spacesuit, we could go exploring.'
'We?'
'Well, all right, you. Now hurry along, before those Mantis come back and catch us red-handed.'
The moment Russell entered the Wayfarer he became weightless. This time he rather enjoyed the sensation. It reminded him of his boyhood flying dreams. Steering with hands and feet, he propelled himself through the forward docking bay and into the cabin. Everything was orderly and a few dim lights glowed, the Mantis hadn't needed to use their energy-draining weapon. But he found no trace of the astronauts, nor any sign of struggle.
A hatch in the ceiling led into the flight deck. There was no trace of the astronauts or a struggle here either. He went forward to the cockpit and gazed with fascination at the impressive display panels. Switches, knobs, levers, and dials bristled from every available space.
Vintage junk, he thought. All Trevor needed to control the Cloud was his computer and joysticks, and even that he complained about. Thinking the instrument layout reminded him of an aeroplane cockpit, he wondered what function they all had. With a childlike urge, he flipped a switch.
Three new lights blinked into life and an urgent "peep" made him re-flip the switch.
Hurrying, he turned his back to the cockpit and floated down into the cabin. 'Can you hear me?' he shouted, trying to sound innocent.
'I hear you. I'm standing in the Cloud's airlock. What have you found?'
'No astronauts, and the power is on.'
There was a moment's pause before Trevor spoke. 'Hmm! It means they transported it here without bothering to drain it of energy. I hope you haven't touched anything?'
'I flipped a switch.'
'What?'
'Only a small one.'
Trevor raised his eyebrows and sucked in his cheeks. 'Let's hope those Mantis haven't noticed, they can almost certainly detect even small electromagnetic disturbances. We'd better hurry. Have you found spacesuits and food?'
'I've found the spacesuits, I'll chuck them across.'
'How much do the suits weigh?'
'A tonne each by the look of them. But they come in several bulky parts.'
'Pick a couple that'll fit us and bring them here, I'll drag them over to this side. Hurry up.'
Russell moved as fast as he could. The spacesuits were stowed in Wayfarer's forward cargo bay. Afraid the Mantis would catch him red handed, he glanced through a small observation window each time he glided back to collect a new part. 'This is making me nervous,' he said to Trevor as he pushed the last pieces into the Cloud. 'Go back to the control room and keep watch while I search for food.'
Back in the control room, Trevor scanned space with his binoculars. He saw nothing, and swore quietly. 'Where are the scanners and probes and instruments that would automatically warn of approaching danger?' The answer was simple; he didn't think he'd need those sort of things, how was he to know they'd end up in a place like this?
All too late, he saw the Mantis shuttle.
Russell pulled open a gallery locker and found it filled with vacuum-packed provisions. In the same instant, Trevor dashed back to the airlock and screamed, 'Get out of there, Russell, the Mantis are coming.'
With clammy hands, Russell scooped food trays into a large, black, plastic rubbish bag. Obstinately, a few trays floated away from his grasp.
'What are you doing,' screamed Trevor. 'They're outside…'
Russell grabbed the last three trays and stuffed them into the bag. He heard a ripping noise above his head and the whistle of escaping air. He pushed away with powerful legs, reached the docking-port, and scrambled into the Cloud. 'I'm in,' he yelled.
Trevor was already back at his computer and stabbed at a key to shut the Cloud's porthole. He stumbled and his finger missed. The finger stabbed again, this time it hit accurately.
Instantly, the shield closed, and Wayfarer's intruding docking-shoot, severed cleanly, clattered to the Cloud's floor.
'Let's see how you like being rammed,' shouted Trevor, and drove the Cloud at the Mantis shuttle. It dodged easily. 'Cowards!' he shouted, shaking his fist. 'I don't know what sort of creatures you are, but I'll get you…'
'Brother, brother,' soothed Russell, as he reached the control room. 'Let's not show aggression. At the moment they're only curious, don't make them an enemy, don't provoke them. Let's try contacting them, talk to them, see what this is all about.'
'How many of these have tried "talking"?' asked Trevor, waving at the dead spacecraft cluttered around them. 'These insects are ruthless. They're not interested in talking. They go directly for the kill.'
'Well, maybe you're right,' consented Russell. 'But still, let's not irritate them, eh?'
A lethal ray of brightly visible energy burst from the insects' shuttle–a ray wide enough to encompass both the Cloud and the Wayfarer. The Cloud neutralised the burst effortlessly, but the Wayfarer disintegrated in a blur of radiant gasses and dust.
'I think they're already irritated,' said Trevor.
'Temper, temper,' mumbled Russell, watching the Mantis shuttle turn away and head back to the sphere.
The two brothers looked at each other–and smiled with relief.
'So far, so good,' said Trevor. 'We're still alive. Come on, let's run down to the airlock and sort out the booty.'
The boys separated the spacesuit parts from the food. Russell gathered an armful of vacuum-packed food trays and headed towards his kitchen. 'The food doesn't look very appetising,' he said over his shoulder. 'And there's only enough for a few days. But that's all we need. In a few days we're bound to have found something better.'
Trevor turned his attention to the spacesuit parts and his own optimism rose. With the spacesuits they could explore and he was certain their salvation lay within the huge spaceship he had discovered. He pushed his hand into an arm assembly. The half a centimetre thick material was so stiff he could hardly bend it. Shaking his head in disgust, he threw the arm assembly aside and sorted through the other parts.
Returning for more food trays, Russell looked at his brother and collapsed in laughter. Trevor had donned grossly oversized gloves, boots, and huge bulky helmet.
'Makes the rest of you look like a pin man, even with that podgy tummy.'
'You needn't laugh,' said Trevor, his voice muffled behind the dark visor. 'You'll be the one wearing this gear.' He lifted the helmet and broke into a laugh. 'Look here,' he said, holding up a thick pair of pants, 'this is your toilet–a nappy!'
'Any idea how it all fits together?' asked Russell, straining to lift a hard upper body construction.
'No problem there. The biggest problem will be putting it on. The whole thing easily weighs twice as much as you–it's designed to be used in a weightless environment. I'll probably have to make this outer airlock non-gravitational when you dress. It'll take me a while to write some new software, so why don't you go and pedal while I sort things out. You haven't forgotten we need the battery recharged every day?'
'Great exercise,' said Russell, scooping up the last food trays. 'As soon as I've tidied these away, it'll be my pleasure.'
It took Trevor the rest of the day to write the new software. The program itself was soon finished, but these new alterations and additions needed careful attention. If he wasn't careful, his entire complex program would become untidy and difficult to follow. So he took his time with the details, not only with these changes, but also with rushed changes he had made earlier, not stop