Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (13 page)

“Oh I know about artificial intelligence,” said Johnny.

“You speak strangely,” said Valdour. “There is nothing ‘artificial' about this ship. She was grown near the planet Phynon millennia ago. She is as alive as you or I—maybe more so.”

“You grow spaceships?” said Johnny. “Cool.”

The other figures on the bridge were beginning to stir and Valdour walked across to the terminal on which the hundra had settled, prodding the creature with a piece of twisted metal that had fallen from somewhere. The little brown ball rose unsteadily into the air and began to circle the bridge, just below the ceiling. The two crew members got to their feet first, followed by the Dauphin who kicked the little brown alien until it uncurled onto its four legs.

“This is outrageous,” said the Dauphin, who was ignored by everyone except its servant.

Valdour looked briefly across to them and then turned back to Johnny. “Can you use your device to ask Cheybora to plot a course for Melania?” he asked. “Oh and ask her to dim the viewscreen.”

“What is that light?” Johnny asked.

“A star, what else?” asked Valdour. “It is a blue giant—a young star. Too young for this system to be colonized. No planets can have yet formed.”

Though he wanted to, it was too bright for Johnny to look at the star. He typed in a message for Cheybora who sent back that they could fold again in five minutes. “I'm not sure I'm
ready for it,” Johnny said to Valdour, while holding his stomach.

“Don't worry,” Valdour replied. “It will take many folds for us to reach Melania, but we shall be protected.”

“Melania? Civilization, thank goodness,” said the Dauphin.

“Yes, Your Highness,” said Valdour to the elongated stick insect. “We shall go to Melania. I must return you to the capital and Cheybora must be healed—she is badly damaged.”

“You try to curry favor with the Regent,” said the Dauphin dismissively.

“I serve your parent at the Emperor's behest, and in his unhappy absence.” Captain Valdour scowled back.

“My parent rules the galaxy as mightily as the Emperor ever did,” spat the Dauphin. “And doubtless it will be delighted by my safe return.”

“Your parent?” Johnny asked. “You mean your mum or dad?”

“Do not address the Dauphin unless spoken to,” piped the bow-legged alien. “The Regent who now rules us is unity. It is neither male nor female. The same is true for its heir.” As it said this, the servant bowed in the direction of the Dauphin. “Gender is for the … uncivilized.” Johnny thought the look the little creature gave him was probably some sort of sneer.

“You mean it's really an it?” said Clara. “That's funny.”

“Do not waste time communicating with these primitives,” said the Dauphin to his servant. “Valdour—if you wish to keep your head when you arrive on Melania you will open the gel pods now. Let us get this tiresome journey over with.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” said Valdour, who led the way to the left-hand side of the viewscreen and pressed a button on the wall. A door lifted upward, with a hydraulic hiss, revealing a transparent amber gel, like on the last ship but clean and fresh. Valdour pointed inside.

“I take it you are serious,” said the Dauphin, who walked a
little reluctantly into the gel and disappeared. A moment later the door to the little chamber closed behind it.

“All of us must do the same before we fold,” said Valdour, circling the bridge and opening hatches along the wall as he went. He pointed for Clara to go inside one of them.

“Will it be the same in there? Will I still feel it?” Clara asked the captain.

“The idea of the gel is to remove as much of the sensation as possible,” said Valdour. “But if you are truly sure, little one, you may remain outside with the plican.”

“Oh, can I?” asked Clara.

“There'll be no gravity either,” said Valdour.

“I can float too?” said Clara. “Even better.” She flashed a smile back at his ravaged face.

“For a little one, I expect big things of you,” said the captain, smiling back.

Johnny looked at the tank where the creature was beginning to stretch out its tentacles again. “You sure you'll be OK out here?” he asked his sister.

“It's wonderful,” said Clara. “I love it. It's like seeing everything, the whole galaxy, all at once.”

“Well, if you're sure,” Johnny replied.

“Positive,” said Clara, beaming back at him.

Everyone else entered their gel pods, except for Valdour, who insisted on being last in. Johnny looked at the amber gel, and turned uncertainly to the captain. “Can I breathe in there?” he asked.

Valdour laughed. “The gel is oxygenated,” he said. “You must take it inside you to balance the pressure within and without. But before you do, send a message to Cheybora to deactivate the gravity field. It is safer for the plican that way. Just now we came far too close to this star.”

Johnny sent a message from his handheld, and took a deep
breath. “Here goes then,” he said to himself, trying to sound brave. He closed his eyes and stepped through. It felt as though he was underwater in a warm bath. He opened his eyes and imagined he was wearing orange goggles. Seeing a switch on the inside of the chamber he pressed it and the door closed behind him, shutting out the light. He was holding his breath and his heart was pounding, but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. His chest tightened—it was now or never so he forced himself to open his mouth and the gel flowed inside. It was warm in his throat, as though someone was pouring hot water down it. And the next thing he knew he was blowing up like a balloon. His legs felt really light, and as the sensation moved up his body his hands looked as if they'd been covered by a pair of inflated rubber gloves. After a few moments, breathing the orange gel seemed almost as natural as breathing air.

For the first time in days it felt as though he could rest. He couldn't forget what had happened to Louise and Bentley—he felt terrible for having left them behind, and would do anything to help them if he could. And now he knew he'd never see his mum and dad again. Thinking about them brought a lump to his inflated throat. Earth was a long way away—he'd never be able to get back. But he had a sister—he had found Clara. And he was on a spaceship. And he was heading for the capital of the galaxy.

Johnny opened his eyes and laughed. Something was tickling him. Lying down, he felt rested—he must have slept and, when he thought about it, he'd really needed to. When he lifted his arm he found it was no longer balloon-like and he could move it easily. The amber gel had drained away—or most of it anyway, though the compartment still looked an odd color. He wiped the orange remains from in front of his eyes and lifted his head. The last of the gel was being hoovered up by something that looked like an elephant's trunk which was currently busy working on his T-shirt and under his arms. It was this that was doing the tickling. He lay still as the trunk moved over his clothes and his face, gently sucking the dregs off him. It nearly sucked his locket up its long gray tube, but Johnny pulled it back and tucked it inside his T-shirt. The trunk retreated into a cavity in the ceiling and Johnny turned onto his side, pressing the switch to open the door to the bridge.

He was bathed in a red glow. Most of the others were already out of their pods and were gathered beneath the hundra and around the plican's tank—where Clara was. Johnny leapt up and ran across the bridge to her. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor with both arms outstretched holding onto the tank, with the plican's tentacles at the same point on the other side of the divide. Her eyes were open and she was grinning from ear to ear, but something wasn't right. She wasn't blinking—she
wasn't even moving. He stepped forward to touch her but was pulled back from behind.

“Let me go,” said Johnny.

“Johnny—she's OK,” said Captain Valdour, “but I don't think we should move her.”

“She's OK is she?” said Johnny. “What's it doing to her? Let me go. We've got to get her away.”

“As good as dead if you ask me,” said the Dauphin, whose robes were now a dazzling mixture of blue and green.

“I didn't ask you, you jumped-up idiot,” said Johnny.

The servant was about to speak but a spindly arm shot out from under the Dauphin's robes to silence it. “You may be under Valdour's protection here, but remember, barbarian,” said the Dauphin, “on Melania such comments are likely to be deemed fatal.”

“Your Highness,” said Valdour. “It may have escaped your notice, doubtless with your mind on higher things, but without this ‘barbarian,' this Terran, none of us would be returning to Melania.”

“And I,” said the Dauphin, “would have made peace with the Andromedans and the war would be over.”

“Or General Nymac would have killed you,” replied Valdour, “leaving the galaxy a doubtless poorer place.”

“He wouldn't dare,” said the Dauphin.

Valdour whispered, “I think he might have been tempted,” to Johnny, and smiled his ugly smile.

“What's happened to Clara?” Johnny asked again.

“We don't know. The little one's vital signs are normal,” Valdour replied, loosening his grip on Johnny and letting him go.

“Normal? She doesn't look normal,” said Johnny.

“I admit I was, perhaps, a little reckless allowing her to stay here exposed to so many folds,” said Valdour, “but her ability seemed astonishing.”

“She's my little sister,” said Johnny. “I should have protected her. I'm all she's got now.”

Captain Valdour turned Johnny round and squatted down in front of him, looking into his eyes. Try as he might it was hard for Johnny not to stare at either the eye-patch or the accompanying scar, which looked really creepy in the red light. “Listen to me, Johnny,” said Valdour. “You have protected her. You saved her life and all our lives. And she will be fine. Cheybora says as much and Cheybora is almost always right.”

“Cheybora—your ship?” said Johnny.

“Hello, Johnny,” said a businesslike female voice that came from all around him.

“Hi,” Johnny replied, looking round the bridge not sure in which direction he should be saying this.

“You saved us,” Cheybora continued. “I was deaf, dumb and blind. Without you reaching through to me, all would have been lost.”

“Are you OK now?” Johnny asked.

“I am better, thank you for asking,” replied Cheybora. “The ship's healer has treated me and I am recovering.”

“What happened?” Johnny asked. What he'd wanted to ask was how come the ship was really alive and needed a healer rather than an engineer to repair it, but that didn't seem very polite so he just went along with it for now.

“I was hit many times as we answered the distress beacon,” said Cheybora. “I had to lift the transit tube into my hold without harming you, which meant going rather too slowly to be safe. I am ashamed to say the Andromedan weapons overcame me.”

“Thanks for rescuing us,” replied Johnny. “I know you were dead brave, but … but how do you know my sister will be OK?”

“I have monitored all her vital signs and as far as I can tell she is healthy. In fact, I believe she can now be separated from the tank.”

“How can you know what's healthy for her?” Johnny asked.

“My databanks contain specifications for most spacefaring species,” Cheybora replied.

“Spacefaring?” Johnny muttered. “But we've hardly gone anywhere yet—just to the Moon.”

“There are records of your species,” said Cheybora, “admittedly dated, but you are a match. Given a little time, your sister will return to full health and awareness.”

Johnny looked at Clara who hadn't moved at all. He went to sit down beside her, put an arm round her waist and tried to pry one of her hands off the tank. It wouldn't budge—it seemed to be stuck there. Captain Valdour came across to help and together they pulled harder, but again nothing happened. Then they heard Cheybora's voice say, “Allow me,” and the plican was suddenly forced up the tank toward the ceiling—to the position they'd first seen it in—physically separated from the main tank. Clara's hands rose with the creature's tentacles for a little while, lifting her whole body off the floor as she slid up the outside of the tank, but then the bond was broken and with a cry the girl fell back into Johnny's arms. She turned and buried her head in his chest. Johnny held the top of her head close to him, stroking her hair hoping it would make her feel better. In front of him, on the viewscreen, a giant white world was coming into view.

“Behold Melania,” said Captain Valdour from behind him. Johnny stood up where he was, holding onto Clara, but staring at the panorama in front of him. Valdour continued, “Defender of the weak, guardian of freedom, cradle of life. It has been a long time since I saw the towers of the capital. It's good to be home.”

Johnny gazed at the enormous planet before them. It looked far bigger than Earth, and the view of it from space was very different—there were no mixtures of sea, land and swirling cloud. There were no clouds at all—and no sea either. It
appeared to be one continuous city as far as the eye could see. Every inch was built on, in gleaming metal or crystal. Or not quite every inch. “What's that?” he asked, pointing to a circular area that had just come into view and seemed different from all the rest. It looked perfectly round, probably thousands of miles across, and had the only water and greenery he could see on the entire planet.

“That,” said Valdour, “is the Imperial Palace. It has seven circles of water and wildlife—the only area of Melania not completely built on. They say the Emperor created it by force of will alone.”