Aliens In The Family (8 page)

Yet as quickly as this fear ate him up, it was gone. It had seemed endless, though actually, within a second or two it had vanished. Whatever it was that had entered Lewis's head was a fear-eater and it ate up all the fear his mind could produce. But fear is a warning, and as the fear vanished, the warning vanished too. Lewis raced back inside and found Jake and Bond still arguing.

"I saw one!" Lewis cried. "I saw one!"

"Saw what?" asked Dora, then as realization struck her, "You can't have," she said. "How do you know?"

Lewis now stood still, looking bewildered. "I just do know," he stated at last. "They must have meant me to know."

This made no sense to Dora but Bond frowned. He looked desperate. "They don't do things by mistake—not things like that," he said. "What are they trying to do? Are they trying to herd me?" He paused and looked at his Companion. "They may think I'm still defended."

"And so you are," Dora said bravely, "because you can be locked in the garage or sleep under my bed." Her voice wavered nervously as she spoke but no-one else noticed.

"Lewis might have made a mistake out there in the dark," said Jake. "It might have been someone just walking by."

Bond looked up at the electric light overhead. "There's a light like that out in the—in the—" He looked longingly at his transistor box. "Out there! There's a light, is there?"

"In the garage? Yes," said Dora.

"Then I could stay there in safety for a little while," replied Bond.

"But you can't leave the light on," Dora said. "Mum and David would see it." She thought Bond's enemies might be frightened of the light, like vampires.

"I won't need light," Bond promised her.

"Could they get into a locked car?" asked Jake. "Even if they didn't have the key?" Bond did not answer her.

Later, after taking Bond out to hide him again in the back of Philippa's car, already sustained with tea and cake and accompanied by more cake and apples in case he got hungry in the night, the three children did not return inside the house immediately. Instead they turned on the outside light and played a game of hide-and-seek in the garden. They were merely using the game as a sort of disguised guard duty but in a way it was both exciting and frightening, for the darkness that insistently lurked around corners of their garden in spite of the outside light was alive with many chances, and beyond that again, where it got really black, the night seemed rippling with terrible possibilities. Who knew what yellow, goat-like eyes might be watching them from under smooth, yellow lids? A hand could appear from nowhere and whisk away either the hider or the seeker as a hostage to mystery.

"I've got to look after Lewis!" Dora said, and would not let him leave her side. No-one was fooled. She was almost faint with fear when it was her turn to hide. Even Lewis was no comfort, turning large eyes towards her slowly and gravely as if he was about to announce that he was not quite what he seemed. Dora would not give in to her fear however, which earned Jake's grudging respect. Nevertheless all three were relieved when after fifteen minutes of the game the driveway was lit up, the air purred, and David and Philippa drove in, full of apologies for having been longer than they had intended. Feeling rather guilty about this they felt quite unable to growl at their children for playing outside so late at night. The red car was put away beside its silent green companion, the garage was locked, and everyone went indoors.

"Let's have some supper!" suggested Philippa. "Toast and scraps. There's a little bit of strawberry jam in the bottom of the jar, and there's some left-over ham and all sorts of bits and pieces. Family supper! Oh—I see you've already had some."

"We were trying to make Jake feel at home," answered Dora virtuously. Lewis just studied the floor, silently and gravely.

"We've been making plans," Dora continued, throwing Jake a look of great significance. "You know how we thought we wouldn't be able to go on the pony trek... well, we've changed our minds..." Both David and Philippa looked up sharply at this announcement, and stared at the children with considerable suspicion.
No wonder,
thought Jake,
Dora overdoes everything! ". . .
and we'd like to take a friend of Jakes's, too." Dora carried on as though she was totally unaware of the suspicious looks she was being given. "He used to live near Jake but he shifted to the city last term—to
this
city, I mean. We rang him up and sort of asked him. I thought it would be O.K." Philippa opened her mouth to speak, but Dora rushed in anxiously, "We're supposed to be making Jake happy. You said we had to."

David had picked up the evening paper. Now he put it down again. He had startlingly blue eyes, exactly the same colour and shape as his daughter's. "I'm being manipulated," he moaned. "I just know it. It hasn't happened for a while, but I remember the feeling distinctly. We've all suddenly turned into one big, happy family, have we?"

"Isn't that what you wanted? You should be pleased!"

"I'm delighted—but I would like to know which magic spell you used to achieve this so suddenly. And who is this friend? Will he pay for himself, or do I have to pay for him? And how is it that Jake hasn't mentioned him till now? These are deep waters, Dora."

"I only just remembered that it was this city that he moved to," mumbled Jake. "It's O.K. though. He's a nice guy."

"It was like doing a jigsaw puzzle," added Lewis, cryptically. "You try something in lots of different places and suddenly it fits in."

"Like Jake has suddenly fitted in—and like the trek has suddenly fitted in too?" asked David.

"You said you wanted to go on it. It was your idea, David," pleaded Dora. "You did say we could."

Philippa glanced at the three anxious faces. "Well," she said. "I don't see why not. It's a bit late to ring Rackham Rides but I'm a good enough friend to get away with it. Mind you, they're probably booked up." She went out to the telephone. Jake saw Dora cross her fingers and reflected, with a sinking heart, that except for one thing that no-one else knew about the trek was a very good idea. However because Dora had already proved capable of conquering the dark which frightened her, Jake knew that she had to go along with the idea and do her best. She wondered what would happen if they left Bond out by Webster's Valley and conversely, what would happen if they had to bring him back home again. He couldn't carry on living in the garage. Suddenly life seemed very complicated, as if they were all running with no place to run to. Still, they would do what they could. She believed Bond was almost telling the truth, and was confident that sooner or later they would find out what it was that he was holding back.

Out in the garage, Bond waited patiently until the reflections on the car windows showed he was alone. He cautiously sat up and let himself out of the car. He did not turn the light on but simply stood quietly in the dark, the Companion hanging at his side.

Bond began to glimmer slightly and then to glow in the dark. He became the core of a dim blue shine that painted other objects with a blue hue. The green car appeared a bright turquoise colour of a low gas flame as if it was the source of aluminium extension ladder shone with the colour of a low gas flame as if it was the source of the light rather than a reflection of it. The same soft light illuminated the squat shapes of paint tins, David's tools hung on a pegboard, and the blades of the push-mower, complicated with their own shadows. Bond stepped lightly onto the bumper of the green car then scrambled up to stand on the bonnet. He unscrewed the light bulb and placed it carefully on a shelf within easy reach. Then he drew a long, shiny wire from a compartment in his Companion, and inserted this into an attachment that he took from one of his many pockets. Another pocket yielded a minute screwdriver and within a short space of time he had connected the Companion to the socket of the electric light above him. He attached the ear piece once again, then scrambled down and turned the light switch on. A dry hum filled the air.

"Solita," he said.

"I'm glad you are back," Solita replied. "With no ear, there is no voice and it is a terrible thing to be mute."

"I'm sorry, Solita, but I had to disconnect you to avoid suspicion. You heard what's going on though, didn't you? We're under siege, but my friends are trying to get us to a place where we can keep moving. Can you recharge here?" Bond asked.

"There is more than enough energy here," answered Solita. The wind snuffled at the bottom of the garage door. "I detect Wirdegen presence," murmured Solita. "You need to sleep, Bond, or you will go into involuntary metamorphosis. You must sleep. Yes, a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest. Set me to audio defence."

"I was going to anyway," commented Bond.

"Remember that I will not be able to maintain your appearance when in the audio defence mode," Solita cautioned him.

"That's why I wouldn't stay with the others inside," replied Bond. "1 didn't want to frighten them."

He pondered about how strange it was that here, in the past—his past which was also now the present—on the planet that had been the first home of the Galgonqua, Jake and Dora seemed like his true sisters, and his real sister Solita had become just a machine and a voice. And yet she understood him as the others never could. His train of thought was interrupted when the garage door quivered as if something was searching it for a weak point through which to penetrate.

"They may break through," Bond observed unemotionally. "But you're right—I must sleep."

"I will maintain. I will lay down a spinfield until the day breaks and the shadows flee," reassured Solita in soft, even tones.

Bond did not reply. Unreeling the wire to give himself enough to reach the car he climbed into the back seat, taking his luminous shadow with him rather like a child taking a teddybear to bed. He stretched out on his back as best he could with his hands folded on his chest and fell asleep immediately, as if he willed it to happen. As he slept he began to change, taking on a different shape from the one he wore in the human world. His bones seemed to shorten so that he actually fitted comfortably on the seat. His newly-dyed hair straightened, grew longer and became streaked with blue. The shape of his hands began to reform, each becoming a hand with six fingers and a longer thumb with three joints. His face remoulded itself over broader bones, his sealed eyes tilted and lengthened.

Asleep, Bond became a strange creature shrunken in his suit of many pockets. The continuous signal which his pulse transmitted to the School now showed up on their screens as a slower, more even line of light than it had been during his troubled day.

In the school beyond the moon a winged figure sat beside a flat bed on which Solita lay, her hands folded on her chest. Her hair, which was deep blue in colour and looked more like long fur than human hair, was partially obscured by an object that sometimes looked like a helmet of frosted glass, and at other times appeared to be a ring of rainbow-coloured light. The winged figure held an instrument in his hand and watched a small light as it throbbed steadily on the round dial.

Glancing up at a screen above Solita's head, he spoke. "Was it necessary to involve the young child?"

"The boy will not be harmed," said the voice of the teacher. The screen shone with a variety of colours. The shapes that came and went were much more intricate than those Bond had observed when he talked to his teacher. "But Bond must realize that broken rules have direct results. The circumstances have become most interesting. We forbid excessive interaction with the inhabitants and yet our richest learning takes place when such interaction is involved.

"I did not expect such innovation," commented the winged Galgonquan. He turned to the comatose figure. "Solita. What is the present situation?"

"Speed and distance," Solita replied without opening her eyes. "The coordinates alter continuously. The Wirdegen would have lost contact had they not recruited a spy."

"The pursuers will have to make a jump if they are shaken off," the teacher observed. "That could be critical. See how a small deviation such as accepting help willingly offered, can lead to other more difficult modifications?"

"Pinpoint the coordinates when possible," the winged figure commanded Solita. "Is there any reference or name that we can check on?"

"Rackham Rides," Solita said immediately. "And Webster's Valley," she added after a pause.

"Ah, yes. We have collected other students there. That may be why the inhabitants believe it to be haunted. There have been some unfortunate instances in the past."

On the bed Solita stirred, and when her lips moved a voice issued that was not her own. "Not Webster's Valley! Everyone knows it's haunted. The trees change places," said Dora's voice in the school beyond the moon.

"The trees change places," said Koro in 1838.

"It's the shortest route," Sebastian Webster said. He barely noticed the stone tug at his ear.

They walked along a wooded ridge surrounded by the dark, rich smell of the live, green leaves and the thick, damp mulch piled up under banks of fern and moss. An unseen creek made a faint, melancholy sound below them, and a little native fantail perched pertly on a branch above their heads, chirped cheekily as it danced a little on the twig, then swooped down so low they could have touched it.

"Tenaa, Wehipa"
said Hakiaha. "You tell me—how can one man think he owns all the land?" He was thinking of the landowner and the farm they had left behind them.

"I'm not like that myself," countered Sebastian, very aware of his fair hair and blue eyes. "I used to be a sailor. I don't put up any fences."

But Hakiaha looked at him doubtfully, and Sebastian Webster felt the division between them as a distinct chilliness—all the more because he knew that even if he did not erect fences other white men would, and he was frightened that he might find himself on one side of the fence, with Koro and Hakiaha on the other.