Tristan turned a key then pushed a large green button. A cranking noise followed by a loud roar filled the cabin. Aesia grabbed her seat tightly as the noise subsided to a steady rumble. Tristan pushed a long vibrating leaver forward with a loud crunch. Aesia gasped as the vehicle lurched forward, bumping over Tristan’s pot holed drive then out to the long dirt track that ran in front of his house.
After about half a mile they reached a small narrow lane. Aesia sat in silence, she found it almost impossible to believe such a machine existed. Once they had driven onto the lane, the lurching and bouncing abated a little. She turned to Tristan and shouted above the rattling roar of the engine. “How does this machine work?”
Tristan smiled, lent forward and patted an odd green console containing two simple round dials. “This is not just a machine, this is a Series II Land Rover. Her name is Dahlia, my trusty steed.”
Aesia regarded him for a moment and shook her head. “This is a rudimentary, noisy, and primitive machine how can it be a trusty steed?”
Tristan laughed.
“Why do you laugh?”
Tristan glanced at her. “So you know about laughter?”
Aesia nodded. “Yes.” She paused and took a breath. “I will ask again. How does this machine work?”
“OK, this machine… Dahlia, is powered by an internal combustion engine.” He tried to explain to her how the engine functioned. Her translation computer had some difficulty with the concepts, and Tristan was not convinced she understood.
“Why do you name this vehicle?”
“Well, because she is cantankerous, awkward, and often fails to start, but I love her.” He patted the console in front of him again gently. “Dahlia, meet Aesia.”
Aesia raised an eyebrow, shook her head, then turned and watched the road ahead, muttering under her breath.
They passed through the village of Holne, then Buckfast, before joining the main road to Exeter.
Tristan drove into the town centre and parked in one of the main car parks.
They sat for a moment in the silence. Aesia sighed. “The country we went through reminded me of my home.”
“Do you get home often?”
She shook her head. “No, it will be many years before I can go home.”
She released the seatbelt and pulled the door catch. Tristan shrugged, got out and slammed the door. He walked round to help her, but she had already stepped out. She stood waiting for him and didn’t flinch while he checked her hat and sunglasses.
“Right, you’ll do. Come on.”
She followed him down a side road then along the street to the main shopping centre. They stepped out into a large wide precinct with shops either side. There were people everywhere hurrying about their business, children running, mothers with pushchairs loaded with shopping, couples wandering arm in arm; a whole cross section of a normal busy British city.
Aesia stopped dead and gasped. “I have never seen anything like this before!”
Tristan smiled. “OK, this way.” He led her past the shops to a large department store. Progress was slow because she wanted to examine each shop window in turn. Tristan smiled to himself. What is it with women and shopping? She came from a completely different planet, and yet he might just as well have been with Sarah. They had drawn level with the main entrance of a large store when an ambulance drove past and started its siren as it drew level with them. Aesia jumped and involuntarily clutched at Tristan’s arm. After the vehicle had passed, she pulled away, her face flushed.
Tristan smiled at her.
She clenched her fists by her sides and glared back. “I should like to go into this shop…” Tristan coughed. “Please.” She added hastily.
“I know of one where they have private cubicles so you can try things on if you want to. You should think of some sensible clothes. The ones you have on are too big.” She looked down at herself and nodded.
Tristan led her to the one shop he remembered had the separate changing rooms, with a member of staff by a counter at the end of the cubicles. She could choose what she wanted and try them on without being seen by anyone. First, she chose some jeans and blouses; the pile at the counter quickly grew. Once she had chosen what she wanted Tristan paid. She changed into the new clothes, and they left the store.
“Well you certainly gave my card a bashing.”
“Card?”
“Yes, my credit card - how we pay for goods we buy”
“Oh.” She caught Tristan looking at her and forced a smile. They passed several restaurants where people sat at tables eating. “I’m getting hungry, Tristan.”
“OK what do you like to eat?"
“I don’t care. Anything.”
“Right, I know just the place.”
She nodded and said nothing. Tristan took her hand. “This way.” Her skin tingled at his touch. She pulled her hand away.
Tristan shrugged. “Sorry.”
He had chosen a small restaurant with private tables between high backed benches. He led her to the back, where the low light would hide them. Tristan thought it safe for Aesia to remove her sunglasses. The waitress sauntered over with only a cursory glance at Aesia; she asked what she could get them. Tristan chose, hoping Aesia would like it.
She sat quietly watching. Once the waitress had delivered the meal she inspected the food, tasting everything in turn, including what was on Tristan’s plate.
When she had finished, Aesia wanted to explore further. They spent nearly all day in the town, with only one old lady remarking on Aesia’s skin colour and were did she come from. Tristan told the lady that she originated from Finland. The old lady walked away satisfied. Once dusk began to fall the younger night-time revellers started to fill the town centre.
“Right, it’s time we left.”
Aesia frowned. “Why?”
“Because time is getting on and I don’t want to push our luck too far.”
She took one last look around the crowded square, then with a shrug said, “all right, let’s go.”
They started for the car park. Aesia, satisfied with how the day had gone, found it an effort not to skip back to the car. She had deliberately been pleasant to him all day, although he sometimes became far too familiar. Still, she had made sure the clothes she had chosen showed off her figure. She had even moved close to him at times and allowed eye contact. She turned and smiled at Tristan, confident her brilliant plan to control him would soon be complete.
As they walked back to the car, Tristan stopped to tie one of his laces. After ensuring both laces were tight, Tristan looked up and sighed; she had continued walking and had drawn level with a group of youths hanging around outside a small fish and chip shop. One of the youths whistled and gestured at her. A normal person would have walked on by, ignoring them. Aesia stopped, dropped the shopping, and turned towards the speaker clenching her fists.
“Oh for God’s sake!” Tristan started to run to her but too late she lashed out. The youth never had a chance, he was flat on his back. The group stood stunned for a moment, looking from the slim girl to the winded lout on the pavement.
Tristan skidded to a halt beside Aesia as, shouting obscenities, the youths threw themselves at them. A flash of silver and Tristan felt his heart miss a beat, they had knives! No longer a brawl; they were fighting for their lives.
Tristan sidestepped as two of them lunged at him simultaneously. He dropped slightly and with a swinging kick, sent one of them flying. The other twisted away then swung forward. Tristan caught his wrist, avoiding the lunging blade and twisted; he felt the snap as his opponent screamed, his shoulder dislocated.
He stood to the left and behind Aesia. He glanced round as one burly youth made a lunge at her back with a knife, as she dealt with another. Tristan, wrong footed had no option but to throw himself forward. He felt burning pain in his right side as he jabbed the youth with a chop across his neck. The youth gasped and coughed. The ones left standing turned and ran.
“You all right, mate?”
A large fat man in a greasy apron stood at the door of the Chippy.
Tristan nodded. “Yes, OK.”
“They’re nothin’ but a bloody nuance them kids hanging round ‘ere all the time, ‘bout time someone saw ‘em off. Your girlfriend here can sure move fast.” He smiled. “Thanks by the way. I’ll phone the cops; they can deal with them. Better get along.” He turned back to his shop.
Tristan reached down and pulled the knife out. He gritted his teeth against the fire in his side; he did not want to show he had been injured.
Aesia stood looking up the street at the backs of the fleeing youths. She turned to finish off the remaining ones groaning in the gutter.
Tristan realised what she intended to do and grabbed her hand. As she tried to pull away from his grasp, he shouted at her. “Come on, leave them, we must run before the police arrive.”
She hesitated for a moment then bent to pick up the shopping she had dropped. Tristan didn’t want to get involved with the police. Aesia would be found out, and what might happen then did not need much thinking about.
Tristan gripped her hand tighter, and dragged her with him. “Run!” They ran hand in hand up the steps to the Land Rover. He pulled out his parking ticket and his key as he ran.
They leapt in and Tristan started the engine while hastily fastening his seat belt. He drove for the car park exit, paying the fee at the barrier. As they drove past the area of the fight Tristan noticed a small crowd gathering around the fallen yobs.
He drove straight back to his cottage. His shirt was clinging to his side, warm dampness soaking into his trousers. As he turned off the main road, the burning in his side had reduced to a dull ache. He took a couple of large gulps of cool evening air and shook his head to clear it.
The journey had passed in silence until Aesia turned to him and apologised. “I’m sorry, I should have ignored them and walked by, but one was rude and I could not let it go unpunished. I know I risked being discovered. Thank you for helping me; a normal slave would have stood by and watched.”
Tristan was going to accept the apology gracefully; however, her last few words caused him to grip the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles showing white. “I’m not your bloody slave!” he snapped at her. “And it was stupid of you; the police would not have been long arriving, and they would soon find you were not human. This planet is a dangerous place for you, as most people believe we are alone in the universe. An alien would cause panic, and I don’t know what they would do to you if you were discovered. You have to be more careful and hold your bloody temper!”
He saw her face flush, sensed her rising anger. “He said…”
“I don’t give a toss what he said!” Tristan interrupted. His head was swimming now from loss of blood.
Aesia turned to him. “There is no need for rudeness,” she hissed as they pulled up outside his cottage. Tristan opened the door and twisted in the seat. Pain racked him, and when his feet touched the ground he had no strength in his legs. The last thing he remembered was hitting his head on the edge of the open Land Rover door.
Aesia gasped. “What’s wrong?” The translator seemed to take an age preparing the words for her. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with her seat belt.
She opened the door, swung her legs round and slid from the seat. She stumbled in haste as she ran round the front of the vehicle to Tristan. He was laying face down on the drive. Aesia bent down and noticed the blood. She had not seen the injury during the drive back because the wound had been on the side facing away from her. She frowned as she shook his limp body.
“Wake up, come on, you have to wake up.”
Tristan groaned. Aesia pulled him to his feet and helped him stand. She felt hard muscle under his shirt. He is heavy!
She guided him to his door and waited while he fumbled with the keys. He started to sway. She snatched the keys from his grasp and unlocked the door herself. She half carried half pushed him to his settee, and he collapsed onto it.
Aesia tore his blood-covered shirt. She examined the wound in his side. It was a clean cut, but blood covered her fingers. She felt fear rise, almost choking her; as much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. She did not know enough of this world to survive for long on her own, and it was a more dangerous place than she had envisaged.
She had not noticed anything in the house that resembled a medical kit. There was only one thing she could think of, the med kit in her fighter.
Grabbing the spacecraft’s key, she stood and ran out the door and up the slope to her ship. She fumbled with the lock for a moment and opened the canopy. She reached in and grabbed her emergency med kit. I have to take a chance. If he were too different in physiology then the kit would kill him, but doing nothing was not an option; he was likely to die anyway. It was her fault he was injured. If it had not been for her arrogance, they could have just walked past the youths, and nothing would have happened. As it was, he was forced to help her or she would have been the one lying in a pool of blood.
She ran back with the kit. It contained a wound sealant and a synthetic blood replacement. She knew it had been designed to cover all blood types, so she hoped it would not poison him. She quickly cleaned the wound with the kit’s antiseptic and then used the sealant to bind the cut together. She hoped that no vital organs were damaged. On inspection, it seemed to be just a deep flesh wound, cutting only the muscle of his side. Luckily, his lower rib, protecting him from a deeper and maybe fatal injury, had deflected the blade.
Now for the replacement blood, she hesitated. What if it were incompatible? She glanced at his face, pale in the artificial light. She had no choice, she pulled the trigger. The artificial chemical blood flowed into his body. Tristan groaned. She could do nothing more except to await the outcome. She sat with him for a while; his breathing was shallow, but it did seem as though he was stabilising.
Please don’t die, not for something as stupid as this. After a while, she fell asleep in the chair.
She woke at first light, stiff from sleeping in such a cramped position. She yawned and stretched to try to reduce the stiffness in her back and legs. Several moments passed before she remembered where she was. She glanced across to Tristan. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so she stood up, and walked over to the settee where he lay. She knelt down and carefully inspected his wound. The sealant had closed the cut with no sign of rejection. She sighed, stood, and studied his face. Of all the alien races she had dealings with, his was the closest to looking like her race. If it were not for his ears and eyes, he could almost pass for one of her kind.
Still, she must not forget; all alien races were destined to be slaves for her people. That was the way things had always been and that was the way they would stay. She sighed and went to Tristan’s kitchen to prepare herself some breakfast. While she worked, she thought over the day before.
She had obtained all the information she needed. The others of his race had no telepathic ability, which was strange, as he seemed at times to be far stronger than her. Their shops were full of goods. Their cities had bustling centres and Tristan had told her there were even bigger cities than Exeter, the one they had visited. What an idiot, she thought. These people would make excellent, strong slaves, and their planet seemed to have abundant resources. She would be given a command of her own frigate for bringing this world into the empire.
A groan from the other room interrupted her thoughts. She walked back into the lounge; he seemed to sense her presence as she approached. He opened his strange eyes and looked at her.
“Where am I?” she heard her translator say.
“You are in your lounge, safe. Would you like something to eat and drink?” she asked.
Tristan nodded. She laid a hand on his forehead.
“No fever. You were lucky, it seems that our physiology is similar or you would be dead.”
“Why?”
“I used the chemicals in my ships med kit to heal you.”
Tristan nodded. “Oh.”
He tried to sit up, but Aesia pushed him back down. “Stay there! You’re not strong enough to move yet.”
She got him some food and drink from the kitchen. She returned, lifted his head, and let him drink. “It will be a couple of days at least before you will be strong enough to get up and help yourself.” Aesia sighed. Only slaves nursed slaves. She shrugged, but with no one else available, she had no choice.
On the morning of the third day he wanted to get up, telling her he was feeling a lot better.
“All right, but please be careful, you don’t want the wound to open up again.”
“I will take it easy,” he assured her. “Thank you for helping me.”
Her face flushed. She turned away to hide her discomfort. “I did it for myself as much as anything. I don’t know the workings of this world to survive long on my own.” What did I say that for? Admitting weakness! She swallowed. “I have a ship to repair, I’m wasting time here!” she said, snapping the words out, trying to rectify her earlier error. Then with a loud sniff she turned and walked out the front door closing it with a slam.
Tristan blinked gazing after her. “Damn! I only said thank you, touchy bitch.”