John sat in front of Trevor's computer and waited while the professor's haggard features appeared on the screen. 'You can call off the red alert, sir, it's all over!'
'What do you mean "it's all over"? It has only been five minutes since I called the red alert.'
'I hardly know myself,' said John. 'But it is over, and we have hordes of Mantis prisoners to dispose of.'
A wave of change spread across the professor's face. 'Thank heavens,' he said and closed his eyes. His shoulders sunk and he threw his head back, covering his face with his hands. He sat like that for fifteen seconds, then leant forward and smiled into his Zip-Linq. 'And thanks to you four too!'
He took a pristine handkerchief from his trouser pocket and blew his nose noisily. 'As to those insects; send them home bruised and empty handed. That's the best thing.'
'But surely they'll simply come back with a stronger force,' said John.
'They'll come back anyway. If their spaceships don't return they'll want to know why. If we send a message back with them, perhaps they'll think twice about coming.'
'What sort of a message?'
'A giant placard,' said the professor, 'of an army boot hovering over a wimpy green insect just about ready to squash it flat!'
John nodded. 'As soon as we've rid ourselves of these vermin we'll bring the iceberg back to Earth. Trevor assures me we can do it without causing a tsunami.'
'Good! Put it down in the Antarctic amongst the other icebergs. Most communication systems are knocked out with all the static you've created; all the satellites are dead and most electronic equipment is ruined. I called a red alert–but there isn't a single aircraft capable of flying; there's not a radar system or computer left working anywhere... The only thing the red alert did was give the world's leaders time to crawl underground to save their own skins like frightened moles… Sorry! Bring it on down, nobody will notice.'
~*~
The professor splashed through muddy puddles like a five year old, humming something so out of tune it was impossible to recognise. Trevor, Russell, Sam and John squelched behind in single file. They reached a summer-shelter and lowered their wet umbrellas.
'Sit down.' The professor indicated the circular wooden bench and waited while the group sat. 'There are two subjects I wish to discuss. I'll begin with the easiest. Reports are coming back from the area where you placed the iceberg. It seems that the surrounding sea is turning pink!'
Trevor understood the implications immediately. 'Oh dear, that means the iceberg has been doctored with some kind of chemical. What do you want us to do?'
'Nothing at present. I have scientists analysing a piece of ice taken from the iceberg. I thought you would like to know, that's all.'
A smile spread across the professor's usually stern face, not a smile of joy, but a smile of affection. 'You four have become my favourite people in the whole world. I brought you to this spot because I needed to get away from my office, and Trevor's woods has become my favourite place in the whole world.' He turned away and watched as sheets of rain flapped in the wind. 'Isn't this fantastic?' he said, and filled his lungs with air. 'I hope it rains forever.'
'Typical London weather,' mumbled John.
'It's peaceful here,' said Sam. 'Reminds me of childhood days at home.'
The professor sighed and his frown returned. 'Home. That's the second subject I want to talk about.' He moved closer to John and Sam. 'It's not official of course, but the whole world think you two are dead.' He brushed a wet patch on the front of his tweed jacket. 'Only your immediate families know the truth.'
'Have you spoken to them?' asked Sam, leaning forward.
'Yes. Your children are healthy and your mother sends her love.' He paused a moment. 'This whole situation is rather awkward. Your mother is the only person who knows you're alive and well.'
Sam shrugged her shoulders at the professor. 'I don't understand. What's the problem?'
'How can we explain you suddenly turning up again? The general public must never know about the alien attack. It would cause unprecedented panic. If the Americans or Russians or Chinese get hold of you they'll bury you twenty miles under rather than risk the truth coming out.'
Sam and John glanced wide-eyed at each other.
'The last time you were seen alive was orbiting Earth in the Wayfarer space shuttle,' said the professor, 'and next you walk in at the kitchen door and say "Hallo, I'm Home!" What are you going to tell people? "A couple of guys from London just happened to come past in their home made flying-saucer and gave us a lift home?"'
Rain splattered on the tin roof. Sam sneezed. 'Supposing we tell the truth,' she said. 'Does the world even know for sure we disappeared?'
'Everyone knows,' said the professor. 'You can't simply shoot a NASA space shuttle off into space and keep it a secret.'
'This is damned ridiculous,' said John. 'We're heroes. We've just saved the world and now we have to have plastic surgery, change identity, and make a new life. Is that what you're saying?'
The professor shook rainwater from his umbrella and leaned on the handle like a walking stick. 'There is a top-secret government department in America called the Alien Bond, AB for short. They deal with alien contact. The four of you know the truth of course, aliens do exist; and the truth is, these Mantis are not the first to visit us–but they are the first to cause us harm.'
'Damned bugs!' said John. 'There must be thousands of aliens out there. How much contact has AB had with aliens?'
'Hardly any. They know as much as the general public–plus a mite more. There has never been an official rendezvous with aliens. They would love to hear your story. But like I said, they are a top-secret department and those who work there, live there. They live in exile and have no "official" life outside the department.'
'You think we should join them?' asked Sam. 'Is that what you're hinting at?'
'If you join them you dedicate your life to them. It is what I recommend.'
Silence fell over them. A pair of thrushes squawked past, fighting over a fat worm, insensible to the trivial problems of mere men. The air smelt fresh and damp, and new tufts of grass peeked from the sodden ground, eager to carpet the forest floor in emerald green.
Trevor spoke up. 'I've been thinking,' he said. 'I've been thinking about bringing the Hollywood back here. We could hide it on the other side of Jupiter. The Hollywood is fully functional, a small world all of its own.'
Only Russell lifted his head to listen.
'Why not let AB use it?' continued Trevor. 'They could live and work there. Think what fun engineers and scientist would have discovering its secrets. Think how safe the world would be with the Hollywood to guard and protect us. It could be colonised, whole families could live and work there. Hollywood's shuttles would make transportation to and from Earth extremely comfortable. I don't know–but you can see the possibilities?'
'What a fantastic idea,' said the professor. 'Those AB guys would have a shindig if they heard about this. What do you others think?'
'Sounds great,' admitted John. 'But I'll need time to think.'
'Me too,' said Sam. 'I've got a mother and kids, but if they could come… If it was feasible to live there…well, maybe.'
'I'll give you twenty-four hours to think about it,' said the professor.
'What if we don't want anything to do with it?' asked John.
The professor spread his free hand and shrugged his shoulders. 'You'll disappear from the face of Earth anyway!'
~*~
'What do you think we should do?' asked Russell.
They strolled side by side through the mansion's woods, each swinging a folded umbrella.
'I'm going to bring the Hollywood no matter what,' answered Trevor. 'I'm going to live there. The rest of my life will be spent either there or here in our estate. AB can do what they like, although I hope John and Sam will join me. I haven't so much to lose, the Cloud and my experiments are my life anyway. It's harder for you. You've got your dojo and pupils and friends. What do you want to do?'
'Yes,' admitted Russell. 'My dojo is my life. I don't know. I'm torn. This is all so exciting. Do I have a choice? If there really is going to be a community on the Hollywood, maybe I could run my dojo there.'
The muddy path ended at a large clearing and the Clouds' stately house came into view, its round turrets and white stone walls smudged and grey after the heavy rain.
'Two people behind the house,' said Aidme, floating in his usual position thirty centimetres from Trevor's shoulder.
An automatic lawn mower purred across the large lawn, and two Alsatian dogs pranced along behind, sniffing and playing as if they were cats chasing a clockwork mouse. The dogs caught and recognised Russell's scent, lifted their heads, darted at Russell, stopped two metres from him, and barked savagely.
'So it's you again, is it?' said Alf, trotting from behind the house with Bert close on his heels. 'What're you doing here?'
'We live here,' answered Russell and offered his hand.
'Liar,' said Alf, ignoring the hand.
'Who are these people?' asked Trevor as he grabbed Aidme and tucked him under his arm. 'What do they want?'
'These are two friends of mine,' said Russell. 'We met in the park some time ago. Alf and Bert, isn't it?'
'Think you're funny, don't you?' said Alf, still wearing his vest, soggy from the recent rain. 'We've been here for weeks now. Ain't seen nobody. Nobody lives here. Least of all two twits like you.'
'It's rather fortunate we meet again,' said Russell, hands on hips, 'because I have a proposition for you.'
'Well it ain't fortunate for you. Because I'm going to teach you a lesson.' Alf threw a well-placed fist at Russell's nose and Bert dived for Russell's waist. But neither the nose nor the waist remained still. Bert skidded along the wet grass on his belly and crashed into the lawnmower.
Alf threw another jab, then another; short, lethal punches with a fist like a steam-hammer head. Another jab, then another, his body low, well balanced and disciplined, the air cracking each time his deadly fist shot forward.
But Russell's head was never there. Or it was there, with that huge grinning smile, but it kept dodging out of the way at the last moment.
Losing patience, Alf threw a wide swinging punch hoping to catch Russell off balance. Russell swept the arm aside and dragged it forward, propelling the stunned man face down along Bert's skid mark.
'Would you two please stop messing about and listen?' said Russell.
Alf sat on the wet grass and wiped mud from his eyes.
'If you two like it here so much, you can stay. It's true we don't own this estate, but our parents do, and they have given us complete and legitimate authority to administer it as we see fit. We would like to employ you two as guardians of this property. We'll pay you a good wage to keep trespassers out. There's a small gatehouse down by the main gates where you can live; it's a bit run down but fully habitable.'
Bert put the lawnmower straight and gave it a little push. He smiled happily as the mower purred on its way.
'What's the catch?' asked Alf.
'The only condition is that you stop robbing people,' said Russell. 'And work with the police instead of against them. Now give me your hand and shake on it.'
'You're a slippery customer,' said Alf. He took Russell's hand and dragged himself up.
Bert took his hand cautiously as if he might get an electric shock. 'Yeah! You're slippery all right. But you're a nice guy, ain't no harm in you at all. We'll work for you, won't we, Alf–if the money's right?'
A small hole opened in the dark clouds and a ray of sunshine floodlit the two brothers.
'Up there,' said Russell. 'Amongst the clouds and beyond. That's where we belong. Me and my brother Trevor, the Cloud boys, are going to be rather busy–busy reaching for the stars.
THE END
Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this story, if so, do me a favour by spreading the word on your Blog, Twitter or Facebook site. Why not let me and others know what you think by posting a review at your favourite online bookshop; even a review of few words is helpful. Thank you. James
The adventure continues…
Book two in the Cloud Brother's series:
The Mantis have left a booby trap. Within two weeks the oceans will turn pink, boil, and evaporate. Trevor and Russell, their parents, an icebreaker and her crew, are captured by the Mantis and time warped into deep space. The parents are given the task of finding a remedy for the pink water–but first they must escape and find their way home.
You can buy Pink Water as an ebook now, or read the sample below.
Visit me online and discover my other books:
ISBN-978-82-93174-00-4
Gathering Clouds…
(2016 Edition)
This novel is a work of fiction.