Oli, A Very New Moon

  *

  The crew entered the small ship and headed for home. Robbie played Doctor Branith’s invite to Pardy and they all had a bit of a giggle about it. Robbie could see the radar beams as though they were bright lights sweeping across the night sky, so he could easily drop down to Richmond Park avoiding detection. The sky was heavily overcast, which was in their favour.

  On the return journey from Annenia, the crew had discussed the pros and cons of handing over the technology to humankind and had all come to the same conclusion: they just weren't ready for it. You only had to look at the problems in the Middle East, or the greed of the oil companies, fighting over control of the last reserves of oil. Humans had this obsession with money. Robbie explained that they should have moved away from this totally arbitrary way of organising the planet's resources many years ago. The billions and trillions of pounds, dollars and every other currency that were electronically moved about every day were in reality, fictitious. The true wealth of the planet was contained in the ability of the dominant species to utilise its raw materials, to enhance the development of humanity, not for a few people to possess everything. If they got their hands on the Annenian technology, it would become one more asset for a few people to abuse, furthering their quest for ownership of everything.

  The Annenians had transitioned a similar period of greed where they had used money for power, but it only lasted about five centuries before in one voice, including the ones holding the power, they all shouted “hold on a minute, this is nonsense”. The Annenian technology could provide unlimited energy to the people of Earth, but it would have to be exploited for the good of the planet, not for the potential wealth that it could create. It was going to take some serious thought. They all swore an oath of secrecy. Of course, Oli would stay in contact with Robbie and if they ever fancied a jolly around the cosmos, well surely there was no harm in that.

  But more pressing matters were at hand. It was Friday night in London and they all fancied celebrating their victory over the Throgloids with a night of clubbing. Robbie made the calculations for a rapid decent, terminating just five metres from the surface of the park, and was just about to commit when he was interrupted by Oli.

  “Gumph!” he cried, “I completely forgot about Stephan.”

  He suggested that they locate Stephan and pay him a visit. After all, he must have spent the last two weeks in a proper twist. Robbie established that his phone signal was emanating from the southwest coast of England in the county of Cornwall. Ed and Oli both cheered together, excited about the thought of an impromptu trip to Cornwall. Robbie moved the ship into a synchronous orbit over the Cornish coast and the viewer changed to an aerial view of a massive house perched on the edge of the cliff. A cross-hairs target appeared over the garden and the screen zoomed into that point. Then it zoomed in again, and there on the screen was the top of Stephan’s head, occasionally glowing as he took a drag from his cigarette. He was standing at the edge of the garden, looking out to sea.

  “Air traffic is still on alert around England,” said Robbie, “so we’ll have to go in fast.”

  The screen went blank. Robbie figured that their lives would not be enriched by watching this particular approach. When the screen came back to life, it was filled with jagged rocks. They’d come to rest in front of the cliff face, just below Stephan’s house. The rock face began to move as Robbie slowly raised the ship.

  Stephan took the last drag of his cigarette. As always, he’d smoked it right down to the filter, ignoring all the warnings. He flicked the butt over the cliff and was about to turn back to the house when he saw the shower of sparks as the remainder of the cigarette hit the jet black object appearing from below the edge of the cliff. His immediate reaction was to turn and bolt for the house, but he stopped himself in mid-turn and looked back at the object. Then he barked; “no!”

  The ship silently moved away from the edge of the cliff and there was a loud clunk as three legs extended to the ground. As the side door opened, he moved to a position where he could see inside by craning his neck. To his relief but no great surprise, Oli appeared, followed by four other people, none of whom he knew.

  “Oli!” he shouted, arms outstretched in welcome.

  Oli ran down the ramp and prepared to administer a big Oli hug, but Stephan’s upbringing didn’t allow for such extravagant displays of affection, so he extended his right hand and offered Oli a firm shake. Oli looked down at the unusual greeting with surprise, but had no intention of pushing the hug onto someone who was already operating at maximum incredulity. He introduced the crew and they walked towards the house, with Stephan reeling off a thousand questions a minute. They all turned in reaction to the clunk of the ship’s legs. It had raised itself off the ground and proceeded to disappear through the lawn until the last piece of its dark, shimmering hull was replaced by the perfectly manicured lawn. Robbie had located an underground cave connected by many tunnels below the garden and informed them that he would await their return, safely out of sight.

  They went inside the house and sat around the warped and split, old oak table in the kitchen. It was a typical old English farmhouse kitchen with uneven, chipped quarry tiles on the floor and handmade, slightly misshapen oak cabinets, the doors on which had probably never quite lined up properly. Stephan filled the kettle from the ancient-looking brass tap and placed it on the Aga, then joined them at the table to listen to the most incredible story ever to be told. He couldn’t believe that they hadn’t been informed about the approaching asteroid. But he could understand the chaos that would have ensued had it become common knowledge. After two hours of storytelling, during which he listened intently without uttering a word, he said that he would love to see the ship so Oli looked around the room and asked Robbie where he was. Robbie said that they could walk to the underground cave from the house. He directed them to the basement where they would find an arched wooden door. Stephan remembered this door from his childhood; he had always wondered what secrets lay behind it. They walked through the house and down the rickety staircase that creaked with every step, to the basement and Stephan pulled a cord, hanging from the ceiling that illuminated a barely-sufficient forty watt bulb in the middle of the room. The floor joists were clearly visible above their heads, crowded in cobwebs. It was obvious that nobody had been down here in a long while. In one corner of the room there stood an old wooden cupboard, its varnish having long since fallen away to reveal the dry flaky wood beneath. Stephan recounted the tail from his youth when he had used that very cupboard in a game of hide and seek with his cousins. He had congratulated himself on finding the best hiding place ever, convinced that they would never find him. He closed the doors of the cupboard and was peering through the narrow gap for any sign of his playmates, when a figure dressed in a long cloak with a large hat on its head darted across his field of vision and disappeared through the locked wooden door at the end of the room. To this day he had no idea who or what the figure was. He pointed out the door and they crossed the room, treading carefully on the old wooden floor boards. Stephan reached for the round iron handle and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “As I thought,” he said. “I tried to open this door hundreds of times when I was a kid in search of the ghost.”

  Realising that he was now bigger and stronger, he lifted the handle and leant back trying to turn it and pull at the same time. Nothing. Just then, from the other side of the door came the sound of metal grinding on metal, and then they heard a loud clunk as the locking mechanism released its rusty grip. Stephan tried the handle again and this time it turned. He had to use both hands as it had become seized with age. He turned it through ninety degrees and leant back to pull it with his full weight. As the door opened he leapt backwards, stumbling with his arms flailing around him. Ed reached out to steady him and noticed that his eyes were fixed on the sinister looking figure that was standing in the doorway. It was dressed as a pirate with a feather in its hat and a long sword by its side
, but what gave away its true nature was the blank, featureless head.

  “Stephan, drone, drone, Stephan,” said Oli, indicating who was who with an open hand just in case there was any confusion. Stephan gave a silent wave as he composed himself, and they all piled through the doorway. They followed the drone that was lighting up the steep-sloping tunnel.

  Oli sidled up to the pirate drone and whispered, “Why the pirate costume?”

  The drone explained the nature of the tunnels into which they were descending. The tunnel was just about high enough for them to stand upright and seemed to go on forever. They were walking through Cornish maritime history. The labyrinth was originally a sixteenth century tin mine that was later, in the following century, converted into a secret passage for smugglers and pirates. The house was built above the mine and had been home to some fairly unpleasant characters during the time of pirates, and now Oli was strolling through the domain of pirates with a parrot on his shoulder. The tunnel led down to the beach below, but Stephan had never discovered the entrance because apparently, it had caved in during a massive storm during the time of Nelson. His uncle was well aware of its presence, but would never allow the children to play down there in case it collapsed.

  “I just thought it might be fun to awaken the rather glamorous past of this place,” said the drone by way of an explanation. Robbie wasn’t to know about Stephan’s ghostly experience so Oli kept it to himself and continued to follow Long John Silicone. Following several turns and a levelling out, the passage suddenly opened into a large cavern. The light from the drone flickered off the ceiling about five metres above and they could make out the far wall about fifty metres away. Rocks of differing sizes protruded from the walls and ceiling. Three hundred years ago this cavern would have been full of rum and other illegal substances, but now it was almost completely occupied by a black spacecraft. It was as though the cavern had been excavated with the ship in mind. It was the perfect size, with just enough space to walk around. Stephan ran his hand down the hull, as everyone did when they were introduced to the impossibly smooth material.

  They made their way to the control room where Oli introduced Stephan to Robbie. As Stephan approached the console, he gasped as he ran his index finger across a row of figures at the top of the panel.

  “These look like Egyptian hieroglyphs,” he said, “but more complex, and in sequences that I’ve never come across.”

  “They are similar,” offered Robbie by way of explanation. “I gave the ancient people a helping hand with their language. Obviously the Annenian language was far too complex for them to grasp, so I introduced them to some simple symbols, and from those they created their own language. I was rather hoping that the language might survive through the ages, but as I’m sure you are aware, it did not.”

  He sounded nostalgic and Oli was getting the impression that Robbie really missed the Annenians. He gave Stephan a guided tour of the ship and explained that it would have to remain their secret. Just as Stephan had trusted Oli with his flat, Oli felt that he could afford the same level of trust to Stephan.

  “Well, if you ever need anywhere to hide it, you know where to come, don’t you?” said Stephan, pointing at the cave around them. Oli and Robbie agreed that this would make a great hideout and as long as Stephan’s uncle didn’t mind, they could spend time down here and go surfing.

  “You surf?” asked Stephan excitedly.

  “Yeah of course,” replied Oli and Ed together. “Do you?”

  “Well, it's been a few years now and I think I may need to rethink the wetsuit, but I used to ride the waves down here all the time as a kid. I think my old board might be in the barn.” They agreed that after they’d satisfied their need to dance the night away, they would return to Cornwall, meet up and ride some cold winter waves together.

  During the walk back to the house, Oli questioned Stephan about his lack of surprise at the whole alien spaceship thing. Stephan relayed the story of the silver flash that he’d seen over the pyramids on the night that Oli had disappeared. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the possibility of alien visitors, but he had always hoped that there was some truth in it. When Oli disappeared in such a strange manner followed by the silver streak shooting straight up into the night sky, he had a strong hunch that there would turn out to be an extra-terrestrial connection. After all, Humans do not have the ability to make people pass through solid rock.

  They joined Stephan for a glass of beer, and all the time that they were in the kitchen he could see Julie fidgeting and looking at her watch. It was close to ten o’clock on Saturday night and those dance floors were not going to dance the night away on their own. They invited Stephan to a night of clubbing in London but he declined. The very idea of being crammed into a room with hundreds of sweaty people gave him the willies. They said their farewells and waited on the lawn for the ship to appear.

  “It looks a bit calm out there,” said Oli gazing out over the oily ocean. “We’re gonna need a few waves if …” He cut off mid-sentence as they all felt themselves being raised off the ground. They all looked down but there was nothing beneath them. They were floating away from the lawn, supported by an invisible barrier. Instantly, the black hull began spreading around them, replacing the grass.

  “Robbie!” he shouted, but the ship continued to ascend. They could feel a repetitive dull thud from the Graviton Generator. It was much louder from outside thought Oli. Then he realised, it wasn’t the engines it was some banging house music coming from inside the ship. Everyone was holding hands attempting to steady themselves as the ship rocked slightly. Julie, Sara and Jason, who’d never ridden a surfboard in their lives fell to their knees, and in vain tried to find something to grasp. They made the mistake of looking to the side and realising that with one slip they would slide off the top and fall a great height to the ground. Only when the ship was fully out of the ground and they heard the legs clunk, did Oli think to shout into the Go-ring.

  “Robbie!”

  In an instant, the banging bass drum stopped, the hatch in the control room popped open and the expressionless head of the drone appeared, rather ludicrously, still decorated with a wide brimmed hat and feather.

  “Oops!” They heard Robbie’s slightly embarrassed voice from inside.

  Without any further words, the drone descended into the control room, the hatch closed and the ship began to sink back into the ground. When their feet were resting on terra firma, they all moved back to the patio and the ship once again appeared, this time a bit further away from the house.

  “It’s my fault Stephan,” said Oli. “I’ve got him into music and he loves it so much that sometimes he can’t concentrate on the more important matters in hand.”

  Stephan was grinning the width of his face at the craziness of it all. He remembered meeting Oli on the plane, and found it amusing that his space ship was as dippy as he was.

  Once they were all back aboard, Robbie tried to cover his error by explaining that they were never in danger and that the matter transform would not work on complex biological matter. No reply was forthcoming from the crew, so he stepped away from the metaphorical shovel and left well alone. They shot back into space, leaving Stephan in the windswept garden, looking up at the heavens. He lit a cigarette and stood there until his fingers became numb with cold, pondering the last few hours. So many puzzles that the pyramids had presented to scientists and historians had just been answered in one evening and he couldn’t share it with anyone. He was bathing in that idea with great glee. He had one over on the stuffy intellectuals who thought that they had all the answers. He was going to enjoy this.

  Robbie made the calculations for a rapid descent into Richmond Park when he was halted by a signal coming from somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. He put it on the speakers.

  “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!” said the slightly agitated voice. “This is BA184 heavy. We have suffered complete failure of both port engines, and structural damage to port side ailerons
. We are losing height rapidly…We will be forced to ditch…Current position fifty-three degrees fifty-two minutes thirty-three north, sixteen degrees twenty-two minutes fifty-nine west, flight level 250 and dropping.”

  A map of the Atlantic Ocean appeared on the screen, showing the position of the stricken craft. It was miles away from any land. Then they heard the reply.

  “BA 184 heavy, this is UK Air Traffic Control. Message received and understood. Search and Rescue will be dispatched. Please keep us informed of your situation.”

  “We've got to help them!” cried Julie.

  “Can you carry a 747 Robbie?” asked Oli.

  “Not the whole plane Oli, it would be way too heavy, but I might be able to support the damaged side and allow them to reach land.

  “Let's do it then.”

  With that, they altered course and ten seconds later were diving in formation alongside the stricken plane. They could see the damaged engines. It appeared that the outer engine had exploded. There was just a broken strut where it had been slung under the wing. The other engine was as naked as a jaybird with all its bodywork blown away. There were large pieces of the wing’s trailing edge missing and the plane was diving at an angle of about thirty degrees from level. It was only by some miracle that the explosion hadn't removed the entire wing. Captain Fairchild and his co-pilot were battling with the controls, trying to level the plane before hitting the ocean. If they could contact the sea with the nose up, they would stand a chance, however small, of surviving. But he knew that even if they did manage to ditch without the plane being ripped to pieces, they were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, too far from land for any helicopters to reach them, and it would take the rescue ships hours to arrive.

  Twenty-five years of flying, thought Captain Fairchild, without so much as an emergency landing. He was one of the airlines most senior pilots and was up for retirement next year. Every pilot knew that landing safely on water that was anything but flat calm, was almost impossible. All it would take is for one engine to dig into a wave and the aircraft would cartwheel and tear itself apart. But, being the consummate professional that he was, Captain Fairchild blocked these thoughts from his head and concentrated on saving the lives of the three hundred and forty six passengers and crew crammed into this fragile aluminium tube.

  “Five thousand feet,” said the co-pilot, then rapidly followed that with; “four thousand five hundred.”

  They informed the passengers that they should put on their life jackets and brace for impact. They could hear the screams above the whining of the two remaining engines. This was it, the moment that every pilot feared the most, a no-win situation. The co-pilot radioed their position one final time and was just about to turn on the cabin intercom to shout the command ‘brace, brace, brace’, when the controls became lighter and ceased their shuddering. Captain Fairchild was able to pull back on the wheel and the uninviting view of the ice cold Atlantic Ocean with its white crested waves smoothly slid out of the cockpit window and was replaced by the night sky. He looked at the attitude indicator and it confirmed that they were flying level. A quick glance at the altimeter stated a height of one thousand five hundred feet above sea level.

  “Any ideas?” he asked, looking across at his co-pilot.

  “None at all Captain. One minute we were going down and now we're flying level. I say, don’t knock it.”

  Then the voice of Jenny, the chief stewardess, appeared in the captain’s headphones.

  “Captain, I think you'd better take a look at the port side wing.”

  He looked out of his window and had to press his head against it to see all the way back to the wing. He tried to take in the sight of the jet black object flying a few metres above the wing, with a shimmering green light between it and the mangled aerofoil. He moved back to his seat, staring silently out of the cockpit window and then turned again to press his face against the side window.

  “Hi, er...Captain,” he heard the mysterious voice say. “I suggest we fly straight and level all the way to England, where together, we should be able to put this plane on the ground...Oh, I'm Oli, by the way...Hi!”

  Only the Captain heard Oli’s voice because Robbie had isolated his headphones. He explained the situation as best as he could to his crew, throttled up the two remaining engines and headed for the west coast of Britain. The co-pilot spoke with air traffic control and informed them that they had regained control of the plane and would require the southern England airspace to be cleared of all traffic as they were limited to their present altitude. The captain decided that now was not the time to be talking about little black space ships. It would take them two and a half hours to fly the remaining fifteen hundred kilometres. They were diverted to Bristol Airport, which would be cleared of all traffic and emergency crews were preparing to line the runway. Robbie had connected to the flight deck of the 747, and Oli instructed the Captain to fly the plane as he normally would. Robbie then mimicked the control inputs of the pilot.

  As the plane approached the Southwest coast of Ireland, the flight crew felt a tremendous shudder that reverberated throughout the plane.

  “What was that?” shouted Captain Fairchild. They didn’t feel anything on the ship, but the panic in the Captain’s voice alerted them to the problem. Robbie put the damaged wing on the screen and they could all see the huge crack that had appeared along the edge, where it joined the fuselage. A metre-wide panel of the surface of the wing was beginning to peel off and was flapping in the six hundred kilometre per hour wind.

  “Holy oly!” said Oli. “We're gonna lose it. Robbie?” he pleaded.

  Robbie calculated the loads with a blueprint of the 747 and 0.25 of a second later said, “We'll have to place a localised force field around the affected area. If you go into the cargo bay, you'll find eight Force Field Generators ready for you, but they all have to be turned on at the same time or they could rip the wing apart.”

  He continued to explain that the four of them would have to walk out onto the wing, place the magnetic field generators on the four corners of the wing, two on top and two underneath then another on the corresponding points on the fuselage. When these were turned on, they would form an unbreakable bond between the wing and the fuselage.

  “Okay, only one problem,” said Oli. “We've only got one Go-ring, and I don't think anyone’s ever wing-walked a 747 in flight before.”

  “The drones have just finished making another four rings Oli,” said Robbie. “I was going to surprise you with them when we got to Earth, but I think now would be as good a time as any.” The flap opened in the control console and on the tray inside appeared four shiny rings.

  “Excellent!” cried Oli, both arms punching the air.

  Everyone took a ring and they ran to the cargo bay, realising that the wing could part company with the plane at any moment. While they were preparing everything in the cargo bay, Robbie informed the pilot of the plan and asked him to slow the plane down to lower the stress on the airframe. Oli, Sara, Julie and Ed picked up the cigarette packet-sized generators and stood by the cargo bay door. Jay just stood there, staring at the ring, frozen to the spot.

  “I can’t do this guys. Sorry. I’ve never told you this before but I can’t do heights.” His fear had begun when he was just fourteen years old, living in Bristol. He and three friends had dared each other to climb one of the cables of the Clifton Suspension Bridge. He'd got half way up and then froze with fear. It took two hours and an entire division of very angry firemen to rescue him. He would have to sit this one out. Pardy however, didn't want to miss out on the excitement, so she jumped onto Oli’s shoulder and he felt her claws dig in. The door opened and the ramp extended to a position just above the wing. They gingerly stepped onto the wing and walked along the leading edge, just above the wrecked engines. At first they took each step as though walking onto an ice-covered pathway for the first time, but after a few steps they became more confident.

  This is cool, thought
Julie, just like taking a walk along the river bank, albeit a river bank that was 1500 feet in the air, and travelling at 450 kilometres per hour. She couldn't resist a little look over the edge and placed her feet as close to the front of the wing as she dared, then slowly leant forward, extending her neck. They were passing over a large town and the streetlights and houses slowly passed under the wing and out of view. She knew that they were moving forward, but there was no sensation of wind or vibration. They all gave a little wave to the shocked faces, framed with yellow life jackets that had appeared along the length of the plane. A young boy of about six years old, who had obviously been crying, peered out of a window directly ahead of them. Julie knelt down right next to the window and gave him a little wave. For all that the little boy knew, this was perfectly normal and he was obviously entertained by it all. His mother in the seat next to him however, looked somewhat more bemused.

  Julie and Sara bent down to attach their devices to the top of the wing and fuselage. As the device touched the aluminium, there was a clunk and it stuck fast. Julie gave it a wiggle to make sure that it was secure but it wouldn’t budge, so she continued to attach the other half to the fuselage. Oli, who had more confidence in the Go-ring than Ed, was first to step around the front of the leading edge. Ed watched in disbelief as his friend became horizontal, pointing straight out from the front of the wing. Oli gave a little Superman pose, then turned his head and grinned at Ed. Then he continued walking until he disappeared completely. Ed thought, I can't bottle it now, I'll never hear the end of it, so off he went. First step leaning out, second step looking down at the ground, third step feeling very queasy and finally he was upside down next to Oli, looking along the underbelly of the plane. He positioned his devices at the trailing edge of the wing. It was a most peculiar feeling crouching down on one knee but actually moving upwards. He remembered the gym lessons at school where his psychotic gym master would stand under him until he had done at least two pull-ups on the bar. He wished the psycho could see him now.

  “All in position?” asked Oli.

  “Yes,” said the girls in unison, followed by an affirmative from Ed, who was really getting into this now. With that, Oli counted down...“Three...two...one...Go!” and they all flicked the switches on the little boxes.

  “Nothing happened,” said Oli, an air of panic in his voice.

  “What did you expect?” said Robbie. “Flashing lights and a fanfare? The Field Generators are up and running and the integrity of the plane has been stabilised.”

  They all cheered together. Oli and Ed made their way back to the top of the wing. Oli gave the passengers a thumbs-up and a big smile. They could see all the passengers clapping and shouting their approval through the small windows, but they couldn't hear a thing because of the noise of the engines screaming away on the other side of the plane. Oli could see the passengers on the port side of the plane telling the others what was happening, and he would have loved to be able to hear their explanation. As they were waving at the passengers, Oli saw a flash from one of the windows towards the back of the plane. Oops, he thought, that'll be in all the papers tomorrow.

  They returned to the bridge of the little ship just in time to hear Air Traffic Control’s instructions to the pilot for his approach to Bristol Airport.

  “You do realise,” said Oli, “every news camera in southern England is going to be at the airport pointing cameras at the runway. There really is no way of hiding this.”

  “Yeah sure Oli,” said Ed, “but we had to do it, didn't we? We couldn't just let the plane crash.”

  “Correct,” said Robbie. “I'll get us out of there as soon as the plane is safely down.”

  Captain Fairchild was coping with the situation in the calm manner that all the years of training had afforded him, although this set of circumstances had never been covered in any simulation. He began his approach. The controls on the plane felt a bit sluggish and he couldn’t use the automatic pilot to stay within the approach zone. So with one hand on the throttles and the other on the wheel, he slowly and confidently moved the damaged jet into its final approach. Every time he throttled up, Robbie accelerated the port side of the plane, and together they kept it flying straight. For the thousands of families that lived in the flight path of Bristol airport, the roar of the engines overhead was just one more of the many aircraft that rattled their windows every day. If they’d only looked up and seen the strange sight, it would have made the years of torment worthwhile.

  Captain Fairchild knew that it wasn’t over until the plane was stationary and the passengers had safely evacuated, he wanted to touch down on the very end of the runway in order to give him the maximum room to slow it down. The runway at Bristol airport was a bit short for a fully-laden 747 and he would need every metre of tarmac to stop the plane. He had reverse thrust on the starboard engines and Oli had assured him that the ship could match the thrust without ripping the wing off. They leapfrogged the last few fields and flew over the perimeter road. Just as the end of the runway disappeared under the plane, came the gentlest of jolts as all four sets of wheels contacted with the strip simultaneously. Slowly, the nose wheel found the ground and the Captain allowed a small amount of reverse thrust. As he became more confident with the stability of the craft, he added more thrust, until the shuddering of the fuselage indicated that he should ease back. With the end of the runway in view, they were still doing almost 100 kilometres per hour and the Captain was gently pressing more and more brake so as not to seize them. The end of the runway had been covered with foam, and several fire trucks were waiting on the grass. With only 100 metres left to the end of the runway, the captain hurled the throttles forward as far as they would go and stood on the brakes. The two remaining engines whined their approval and the plane began to veer to port as the brakes locked. Captain Fairchild countered the swerve with a big rudder movement and Robbie helped by turning the port side wing towards the centre of the runway. With a screech of rubber, the giant plane slid to a halt, springing back on the suspension as it stopped.

  Cheers erupted from the passengers, overjoyed at their continuation of life. The cockpit was awash with very English congratulations and hearty handshakes. The Captain pressed his head against the window to see the little ship, but it was gone. All he saw were the smouldering remains of the two engines, being covered with foam from the waiting trucks.

  As soon as the plane had stopped, Robbie shot back up into space at such a speed that even when viewed in slow motion, it was impossible to see anything except a blurred black streak in the night sky. Fortunately, the terminal and all the cameras were on the starboard side of the plane so the ship was concealed by the bulk of the 747. The fact that it was night time also helped. He had set the Field Generators to self-destruct as soon as the plane came to a stop on the runway and they vaporised themselves, leaving no trace whatsoever.

  The plane, which was so badly damaged that it would have to be scrapped, was taken to a hangar to be examined. As it was being towed, the wing parted company with the fuselage, thus confirming to the engineers that there was no way that the wing could have stayed on during the force of a landing. They were baffled.

  “Whoever you are,” said the Captain into his headset, “thank you. We owe you our lives.”

  “Ah that's nice,” said Sara.

  “That's it!” exclaimed Oli. “We can't hand over this technology to the people of Earth, but we could use it to save lives. Like International Rescue!”

  “I want to be Lady Penelope!” cried Sara, walking across the control room with her arms in front of her like a puppet.

  “And I guess, ugh, that I’ll, ugh, have to be brains,” said Jay, joining Sara in the ludicrous walk.

  “If people know that it exists,” continued Oli, shaking his head at his ludicrous friends, “then maybe that's just the incentive they need to pull their fingers out and start getting along with each other.”

  Robbie agreed with the plan. Obviously they wou
ldn't be able to stop every disaster from happening, but if the crew would give up their Earthly lives, they could certainly make a difference. Jay would have to give up his day job. He had to think about it for a while. Accountant or space travelling hero. Mm, tricky! Reverting to his accountant persona in a moment of clarity, he asked how they were going to live. They would still need money and food. Oli assured him, with a wink to Robbie that they would not starve.

  After dropping everyone off in Richmond Park, right under the nose of Doctor Branith, Robbie headed back to the moon with Pardy. The rest of the crew hit the town. It was two o'clock in the morning and they only had a few hours left for dancing.

  Captain Fairchild had to submit a detailed report and enough people on the plane had seen the ship, so it was going to be big news for some time. Several people with window seats had taken photos of the ship and crew but it was dark outside and every attempt to use the flash had only resulted in an over-exposed shot of the window. The passengers were all interviewed by Doctor David Branith’s team at UFID, and it became obvious that this was the same ship. So it was not piloted by a parrot, but by a group of youths. He was now more confused than ever.

  CHAPTER 9

  Captive

  Something wasn’t right. Robbie was certain that he had shut down Cranus when they left, but there were lights on in the bridge section. The faint glow coming from the observation dome was flickering as though someone was walking around carrying a flash light. He took the ship into a close hover above the mountain. Then suddenly, everything went blank. No mountain, no Cranus, no Moon.