Sister Ships and Alastair - Chapter 17

17. Someone New in the Sky

Callaway sat back from the console, his face limp with shock.

"We're hit, sir! Depressurisation in the boat dock!"

Jenkins, steadying himself against the bucking deck with one hand on the ceiling, gaped at the empty sensor displays. "Hit? Hit by wh-who?"

"He sounds like a bloody owl", complained a crewman behind Cleo.

"No idea, sir! Th-there's nothing on the screens!" Callaway was in a panic, cycling between different views of the ship's surroundings in visible light, infra-red, radar, and other ways of seeing with which Cleo was unfamiliar.

"An internal explosion, p-perhaps? An ac, ac, accident?"

Another detonation caused the deck to shake.

"SICK BAY, SIR!" Callaway's voice was a shriek now. "THE DAMAGE CONTROL SYSTEM'S CUT IN, SIR! WE'RE ON FIRE, SIR! BOTH LOCATIONS!"

Kay stepped up behind Jenkins. "If you'll pardon my saying, sir, the likelihood of an explosion being accidental goes down smartly once there are two of them."

"Is it serious to get hit in the sick bay?" said Cleo, holding on to a wall rail. "Nobody's sick."

"Put it this way", said Kay through gritted teeth. "There are no bulkheads between us and the sickbay. If that had happened in space, we'd all be looking at the ship from the outside now, sucked out into vacuum. Oh, and we'd be dead too."

"C-calm, everybody", said Jenkins. His hands had come down off the roof, and were now deliberately clasped behind his back; but Cleo could see that they were shaking. "Assuming we are under at, at, attack, w-we have only one course of action."

"Which is, sir?" said Kay.

"Land", said Jenkins. "W-we're hovering a hundred m-metres above ground. If the enemy scores a hit on our drives, it's a l-long drop down."

Kay's expression hardened. "Sir, may I respectfully point out that if we land, we won't be able to manoeuvre. All the enemy then has to do is hit us with one nuclear missile -"

"If the enemy had had a n-nuclear missile, Mr. Kay, I think he'd have used it already. As you have already p-pointed out, he's trying to k-kill us." Jenkins nodded at Godrevy. "Land us, please, Mr. Godrevy."

He turned round, looking at the rest of the bridge crew.

"Well, wh-what are you men w, w, waiting for? Battle stations! This ship has guns! Use them! Fire at wh-whatever you think might be the enemy, whether the screen tells you it's an enemy or not! Mr. Mason, we m-may need an alternative location for the s-sick bay. F-find Dr. Prendergast and -"

Mason looked sorrowfully back at Jenkins and shook his head. Jenkins hesitated a second, then nodded, and said simply:

"- use your initiative. Mr. Godrevy, once we're l-landed, we will n-no longer n-need a pilot. R-run along to one of the g-gunnery stations. S-someone may have died at their p-post by then, you'll be able to m-make yourself useful -"

"The US Zed fighters on the ground, sir..."

Jenkins' face was racked by indecision.

"We could disable them, sir. Easily. Two shots, they'd never take off again. There's still someone sitting in one of them, but hey, collateral damage..."

"No", said Jenkins. "N-no. We're not going to d-do that."

"Sir", reminded Kay, "we are at war."

"No we're not. The last time I looked, n-neither of those sh-ships were sh-shooting at us. And someone already seems to have g-gone to g-great lengths to t-try to start an interstellar war here, and I ain't having n-none of it."

"Sir, someone is shooting at us. There are rhinoceros-sized holes in our hull."

The high volume rumble of point defence cannon fire shook the deck.

"EAT HOT PROTONS, HELLSPAWN!"

"Charlie, that is a lenticular cloud. You are shooting at a meteorological feature."

"...sorry sarge."

Jenkins turned to Kay.

"D-doesn't it seem peculiar, Chief Petty Officer, how n-no-one started shooting at us until we got c-close enough to a c-couple of US Zed fighters to lose our c-cool, d-develop itchy t-trigger fingers, and s-start a war we d-don't need?"

"Sir, the US Zed obviously have another ship out there, and it -"

"Another sh-ship, yes. An invisible ship, of a t-type we've never seen before. That we never even s-suspected they were working on. No, Mr. Kay - this is s-something else. Something that s-smells distinctly of fish. And I look at those t-two fighters, and I don't see targets, I see allies." He clicked his fingers. "Exterior loudspeaker m-microphone, please, Mr. Callaway. And put this out on radio too, all bands."

The microphone was passed to him without a word. When he spoke into it, his voice stuttered thunderously through the fabric of the ship.

"UNITED STATES OF THE ZODIAC F-FIGHTERS! IF YOU ARE NOT PART OF THE ATTACK C-CURRENTLY IN P-PROGRESS AGAINST OUR VESSEL, GET IN THE AIR! WE ARE B-BADLY DAMAGED AND C-COMING DOWN ON TOP OF YOU!"

Callaway looked at Jenkins as if he were mad. "But, sir, we're not that badly damaged! We can still fly -"

Jenkins winked as he switched the microphone off and handed it back. "No sense in l-letting the enemy know that, though, is there?"

The deck lurched again. This time, Jenkins rode it without reaching for the ceiling.

***

"He's letting us go! Why is he letting us go?"

"Because he knows we aren't the enemy." Turpin was sprinting for the instructor's ladder of the Fantasm. "I'm going to need a navigator, Mr. Linklater."

Glenn Bob's chest swelled. He scrambled out of the Harridan, ran up the ladder into the Fantasm's navigator's seat, and began studying the controls before Turpin could reverse the decision. Behind him, Truman J. slithered up the side of the Fantasm's fuselage with as much speed as a one-footed creature could muster.

"Erm", said Alastair, eyes still on the sky, "didn't Lieutenant Jenkins just say he was about to fall on us?"

Penelope, vaulting into her flight seat, shook her head. "He lied. His drives are still turning fine. You can hear it if you listen - a good healthy heartbeat." She began flicking switches with the speed of a touch typist. "But you two really do need to get out from underneath him."

"Why?"

"In case the situation changes. If he really does fall out of the sky this whole area will be one big crater." The Harridan's canopy began closing over her head. Truman J. had now flopped into the cockpit behind Glenn Bob and was sitting on the top of his flight helmet like a surrealistic hat, looking out through the cockpit canopy.

"Now, don't you go nibblin on that helmet while you're up there, you hear?" said Glenn Bob sharply. Truman J. blushed orange.

"You're leaving us behind?" said Alastair as the drive began winding up inside the Fantasm's saucer.

"Don't worry", said Turpin without smiling. "If things go right, I intend him to be shooting at me. Besides", he said, looking at Vladlena, "from what I've seen so far, you're in the best hands on the planet."

He saluted Vladlena, one palm vertical against his temple. Vladlena saluted smartly back, one hand horizontal against her own.

"До свидания, Товарищ."

"До свидания."

"Burn in three", said Turpin. "One - two - "

The Fantasm lifted off so rapidly that milky white compression waves formed in the air where it had been. The Harridan hesitated one second further, rocking on its landing struts, then exploded into the sky after it.

***

As Black Prince's landing legs bit deep into Krasnaya 3's surface, the inside of the bridge was a babble of confused voices talking across one another.

"I CAN SEE A VAPOUR TRAIL AT ALTITUDE, BEARING SIXTY-TO-NINETY BY SIXTY -"

"Sir, I must protest at you letting the Zodiac ships lift off. How do we know they're friendly?"

"DON'T FIRE AT THE FANTASM -"

"We h-have to start trusting one another some time, Mr. Kay."

"I'VE GOT A MAJOR HEAT SOURCE BEARING DUE EIGHTY BY EIGHTY - oh, wait, it's the sun -"

"DON'T FIRE AT THE HARRIDAN -"

In the midst of this, however, a calm, unhurried voice spoke out of the console:

"Thank you for the vapour trail information, Black Prince, over."

"Who's that?" said Kay, red-faced, yelling into the intercom. "Gentlemen, use secure channels, stop talking over ship's radio in the clear -"

"His name is Richard Turpin", said Cleo. "Lieutenant Richard Turpin of the United States of the Zodiac Navy."

"Richard Turpin?" said a crewman. "The Richard Turpin? The Highwayman?"

"I thought he was just a story they made up to frighten cadets", said another.

"They say he flew a Harridan upside down all the way through the Dartford Tunnel", said a third. "People saw. It was in the Fortean Times and the National Inquirer and everything."

"Well, he's real", said Cleo. "And he's out there right now."

Petty Officer Kay looked into Black Prince's three-dimensional tactical display as if a fire breathing dragon had suddenly appeared in it.

"Well, if the stories about him are true..." said Kay.

"Which they are", added Cleo.

"....then whoever or whatever it is that's out there with him, it's dead. It's just not stopped breathing yet. Erm, if it, you know, breathes", he added, though this ruined the effect slightly.

"I'm afraid not", said Cleo, grimacing. "Lieutenant Turpin has a weakness. It's a Cause For Concern on his psych profile."

"Which is?" said Kay, swallowing hard, eyes still fixed on the display.

"He can't kill things. Which in my opinion makes him a very nice man, but a lousy combat pilot."

The crew continued to stare into the display, faces tinted green with its radiance. The Fantasm was a red dot high above the Prince, corkscrewing and dipping across the sky. At a distance, it was being tailed by a smaller, slower dot.

"Who's that?" said a rating.

"That's his commanding officer", said Cleo proudly. "Penelope Farthing."

"Never heard of her", said the rating.

"Well", said Cleo, colouring, "that's probably because she wouldn't fly a Harridan upside down through the Dartford Tunnel, because she is responsible."

"Picked up the vapour trail", said the console. "Something passed through this bit of sky all right - someone too stupid to realize you leave a trail when you fly through an atmosphere -"

"He's broadcasting in the clear", said Kay. "Does he know he's broadcasting in the clear?"

"Richard Turpin", said Cleo, "always knows what he's doing"; and hoped he did.

"Why's he flying like that?"

"He's p-presenting a difficult target", said Jenkins. "After all, he's dealing with an enemy he can't see. Gunners - if he attracts an attack, it'll come from his tail. F-follow him with your f-f-fire."

"Can't make out a thing, sir. Sky's cleaner than a good captain's private toilet, sir."

"Maybe the enemy ship's landed too."

"Maybe it was indirect fire. Maybe the gunship's round the other side of the planet, and someone here's giving it directions." This last comment, from a Bridge crewman, was accompanied by a snide glance at Cleo.

"Very accurate directions, if you ask me."

"Yes", continued Turpin, "I'm pretty sure I can say for certain that, even if he is flying an invisible ship, he's quite astoundingly stupid. I doubt he could hit me if he tried -"

The attack came from the front. "VAPOUR TRAIL BEARING SIXTY-SIXTY-FIVE -"

Turpin fell out of the sky like a stone, tumbling, apparently wildly out of control. Callaway rapidly centred the TV screen on the bearing indicated by the gunner's yell; all that could be seen was a red wake spiralling across the sky, with a tiny black object at its tip.

"Got him", said Callaway in satisfaction. "That's our bad guy. He ain't invisible to the naked eye, at any rate."

On the screen, the space behind the object began to sparkle with tinsel traces of light. Each sparkle, Cleo suspected, would be an explosion large enough to blow a hole in a saucer.

"Got his position now, sir -"

The red wake suddenly vanished from the screen.

"Where'd he go?"

"Maybe he really can turn invisible."

"No", said Jenkins, "he's just sh-shot back up too high to leave a vapour trail. No m-moisture in the upper atmosphere. He's not quite as stupid as your Mr. T-Turpin would like."

On the screen, Turpin had suddenly miraculously regained control, and was shooting away over the landscape, occasionally being eclipsed by an intervening patch of high ground.

"I've lost him, Black Prince. Whatever he's flying, it's fast - at least as fast as an Aurora or a Fantasm. I'm also pretty sure he understands enough English to be goaded into a fight. Do you have his position over?"

A yell from Penelope burst from the console speakers. "SKY HOG! He just nearly went straight into me!" In the screen, the second red dot seemed to have veered away sharply from an imaginary collision; it was correcting itself back to its original course, though still bobbing and weaving.

"Uh, USZ Harridan", said Callaway, "your fire control radar isn't on."

There was a second's pause.

"I never forget to turn on my radar", said Penelope hotly.

There was another brief pause.

"...except today", added Penelope. The smaller red dot began to pulse with a steady beat.

"It's on now", said Callaway.

"If anyone says 'women fighter pilots'", said Cleo, "they have an appointment with the spatchcock flange -"

She stopped in mid-sentence. Callaway had centred the TV screen on Penelope - the sky just behind her Harridan was filling with deadly little Christmas twinkles, creeping up on her like a slow, glowing amoeba.

"PENELOPE!" yelled Cleo. "HE'S SHOOTING AT YOU!"

"That's not possible, he passed me going full belt - CHRIST." The Harridan jerked sharply left and right, trying frantically to lose a pursuer Black Prince's radar screens could not see. "Lord Jesus, he turned right round on himself in mid-flight - nothing turns like that, not even in an atmosphere -"

"Target the area immediately b-behind the Harridan", said Jenkins quickly. Penelope's fighter acquired a second comet tail of fire coming from Black Prince's batteries.

"He's pulled away", said Penelope quickly. "Must have thought it was getting a bit too hot for comfort. But he'll be back -"

"He didn't fire at you on the first pass, Pen", said Turpin.

"He is making up for lost time now, Richard."

"No, he didn't fire on you on the first pass because he didn't see you any more than you saw him. Switch your fire control radar back off. Maintain radio silence. Stay down at contrail height."

"Turn off my fire control? Why don't I just turn off my cannon too, get out onto the wings and try to spit in his eye while he flies past?"

"Pen, Follow My Leader. Do you understand?"

There was a brief pause and then:

"Okay. Okay, I see what you're driving at."

Callaway looked up from the console. "Both ships have switched off their gunnery radar, sir...Uh, sir, that means they can't see to shoot."

Jenkins remained calm, hands still clasped behind his back. "I'm f-fully aware of that, Mr. Callaway. I also think I kn-know what Mr. Turpin is doing. If their f-fire control radars were turned on, we'd easily be able to p-pinpoint the p, p, positions of the Fantasm and the Harridan, wouldn't we?"

Callaway nodded dumbly.

"B-but we c-can't detect any radar coming from the enemy ship, which I intend to treat n-not as some sort of m-magical supernatural nightmare, but as a sh-ship which behaves like a sh-ship, and sh-ships use radar. Now, using radar is like trying to f-find your enemy using a torch in a d-darkened room. Your t-torch lets you see your enemy, but it also l-lets you b-be seen by him. S-so the enemy can't turn on his torch, or he stops being invisible; and if our guys don't t-turn on their t-torches either -"

"They'll be just as invisible as he is", breathed Kay. "Because he's homing in on the emission from their radar systems."

"He must be flying almost b-blind", said Jenkins. "He can s-see a big thing like us easily enough, b-but he almost ran into L-Lieutenant Farthing's ship."

The two dots on the screen were circling one another in the display now, keeping the same altitude.

"H-he's out there somewhere", said Jenkins, the knuckles white on the hands he had clasped behind his back. "But two armed enemies have j-just disappeared from his screen. He's n-nervous. I'd be n-nervous."

"But why are they flying in circles?"

"I'M HIT! I'M HIT! LOSS OF CABIN PRESSURE, DRIVE MOMENT DROPPING! I'M GOING BALLISTIC!" The smaller red dot, Penelope's dot, began slipping down the display towards the ground.

Callaway had the screen focussed on Penelope's patch of sky immediately; immediately, the tell-tale vapour trail showed itself.

"MR. TURPIN, SIR, VAPOUR TRAIL BEARING FORTY BY FIFTY -"

"On it." The big red dot flicked across the display much, much faster than it had previously let anyone know it could move. Almost immediately, it began to move erratically, as if responding to the movements of an invisible quarry. It shot down, then up towards the very edge of resolution, on what had to be the borders of space.

Jenkins' voice was triumphant. "That's why they were f-flying in circles, Miss Shakespeare. If one of them was at, at, attacked, and it didn't matter wh-which one, his wingman would swing r-right r-round onto the enemy vessel's tail."

"Kill him, Richard", said Cleo, staring into the display.

"Kill him", echoed crewmen around her.

"Finish him off", said others, as if Turpin could hear them high up in the ionosphere.

In the comms speaker, Turpin's voice sounded both pained and scared. "HIT HIM! BUT HE'S STILL GOING! HOW CAN HE STILL BE GOING?"

Callaway looked up at Jenkins. "Faint radar traces appearing three hundred metres ahead of the Fantasm, sir."

"I MUST HAVE PUMPED OVER FIVE HUNDRED ROUNDS INTO HIM - HE CAN'T -"

Jenkins nodded. "The bandit's damaged, even if only slightly. His invisibility's n-not working any more. T-target those radar traces and fire."

Cleo heard the whump whump whump of big guns firing from inside the cruiser's hull. Another, larger patch of tiny red dots suddenly appeared on the display as if from nowhere, spreading out across the holographic sky. Turpin's voice came over the radio, saying:

"What the -"

Several seconds later, a distant BOOM shook Black Prince's sides.

Turpin's blip disappeared from the screen.

"Ych y f-f-fi", said Jenkins. "We did r-rather assume there was only one of them, d-didn't we?"

"Richard?" Penelope's voice was urgent in the console speaker. Outside the hull, the gentle thrum of saucer drive could be heard as the Harridan touched down on the clear-cut ground below. "RICHARD!"

"I don't understand", said Cleo. "Did it get Lieutenant Turpin?"

Kay crossed himself.

"G-greater love hath no man", said Jenkins, "th-than he who lays down his l-l-life for another."

"Never in the field of human conflict -" began Mr. Kay.

"I'd draw your attention, gentlemen", said Callaway, "to the total lack of debris."

Jenkins blinked and looked down at Callaway.

"What?"

"And to the fact that he was right on the edge of our sensor range", continued Callaway. "And approaching escape velocity." He held up a finger in the air, close to where Turpin's dot had disappeared. "The trajectory he'd have entered would have started here...looped the loop here...and come back down here."

A red dot reappeared in the holographic display, almost exactly underneath Callaway's finger.

A cheer filled the Black Prince. Big burly astronavigators unashamedly hugged each other.

"Hello Black Prince...are you still there over?"

Jenkins bent forward to the microphone. "Y-yes, Mr. Turpin. Everyone here is very pleased to see you. Over."

"There has to be a first time for everything...I believe we still have prisoners to trade, over."

Jenkins looked at Cleo and winked. "I b-believe we do, Mr. Turpin. I believe we do."

He clapped Callaway on the shoulder. "Open me a s-secure line to the Russian carrier, please, Mr. Callaway."

Callaway nodded and tapped at his keyboard. "Open now, sir."

Jenkins cleared his throat and appeared to compose himself.

"Здравствулте Товарищи!"

There was a considerably longer pause.

"Ah...Стравствулте Товарыч!" replied the screen microphone.

Jenkins looked across the room to his newest crew member, who made a face and shook her head.

Jenkins leaned closer to the microphone.

"G-GOOD DAY TO YOU, COMMODORE DRUMMOND", he said.

"Oh RATS", said the speaker. "How did you know?"

"I only s, s, suspected, until I got myself a g-genuine Russian native speaker." Vladlena twirled in the pilot's seat and lit herself a Cuban cigar she had pulled from her top pocket; none of the crew appeared willing to stop her. "Apparently your Russian s-sounds terrible. Unfortunately it's b-better than no Russian at all, which is what our crew have here on board B-Black Prince. You can turn your r-reactor down now. It must be r-running dangerously close to its safety limits - not to m-mention putting out a lot of radiation. Giving off far too many neutrinos, of c-course, was the only way you could f-fool us into thinking you were a s-super heavy cruiser."

"Thank you. We have all been sitting here in space suits for the last eighteen hours."

"It's a p-privilege to meet you, sir."

"And you, Captain. We've been listening throughout. You've been handling your vessel well."

Jenkins trembled with what looked like a combination of embarrassment and pleasure. "It's n-not my vessel, sir. I'm j-just looking after it for a f-friend. F-for rather longer than I'd expected. My f-friend is now d-dead."

"Well, I can only hope the High Admiralty can see their way to giving you a ship of your own. You're an excellent commander, Mr. Jenkins. And I should know. I am the Enemy, after all."

"We n-need to meet", said Jenkins. "To exchange p-prisoners."

"Yes", said Drummond. "That man of yours I still have. How is he?"

"I'm fine", said Alastair, shooting a sharp glance at Jenkins, which was ignored.

"I'm relieved to hear it", said Drummond. "I'd hate for anything protracted and painful to happen to you, Alastair. That would be a terrible thing to happen to someone from the old alma mater. By the way, what was found by the Coalhole in the Coalhole?"

"5,000 tons of processed peas", said Alastair. "Who put the apple in the teapot?"

"Someone else", said Drummond. "Ah, that takes me back. Schooldays, the best days of our lives. Domi, domi, dulce domi!"

"That's dulce domum, Bentley, old chap", said Alastair, his teeth set in a grim mask of politeness. "The accusative, you see. 'Homeward, homeward, sweetly homeward'. Motion towards, with an implied use of the Verb To Go. You really should be able to remember the old school song."

"Could be the locative, dear boy. 'At home, at home, sweetly at home', with an implied use of the Verb To Be -"

"I don't understand", said Cleo. "Jervis Bay's been here all the time?"

"P-pretending to be a Russian carrier, yes", said Jenkins. "I'd imagine they p-probably had to extend her boat deck to f-fit in two fighters. L-looks like they figured c-carrying out smuggling operations using Astromokes was too risky. S-slow old tubs, Astromokes. Have their own C Plus systems, but no m-manoeuvrability or weapons systems. I hear Mr. D-Drague nearly caught the H-Highwayman in one last time."

"Nearly caught him this time too", growled Drague darkly.

"And you're going to just give me back to the US Zed", said Cleo. "Despite the fact that you already have Alastair."

Jenkins nodded. "In a sp, sp, spirit of international cooperation. Jervis Bay's crew just helped us sh-shoot down an aggressor that c-could have destroyed my sh-ship."

"How can we cooperate internationally", said Drague, "with a nation we don't even recognize?"

"Two of my men are b-badly injured", said Jenkins pointedly. "And we n-no longer have a doctor on b-board. Commodore Drummond, meanwhile, does."

"We will render all assistance necessary", said the speaker.

"And of course", said Jenkins to Vladlena, "w-we have to return you s-safely to your own people."

Vladlena scowled. "Own pyeople are dyead."

Jenkins backtracked hurriedly. "Of course. I'm s-sorry -"

"Blue Yorganism take them."

" - I meant, to Russian people -"

"Mr. Jenkins", said Cleo, "the Russians put her in a prison camp."

Vladlena bared her teeth around her cigarette, and blew smoke out of her nostrils. "Russian pyeople first come here to Krasanya Three in 1953. Land shyip in myiddle of foryest; cosmonauts nyever seen agyain. Shyip found later by ryescue party, as leshiy not able to eat shyip. Supreme Soviet dyecide to send yexpendable human labour to clear foryest. Syend Yenemies of Pyeople, pyeople arryested in myiddle of night in Moscow and Leningrad by MVD Security Service, pyeople taken from family, from husband, wife, children, all. Great grandmother Irina have husband, nice man, railway yengineer. Great grandfather Yuri have wife he love great dyeal. MVD syeparate yeverybody, wife nyever see husband agyain, old life gone foryever, new life is in gulag.

"When first colony ship land on Potemkin, drop one hundryed tonnes of yexplosive, flatten foryest; then drop pyeople on pyarachute. Grandmother Irina is tyerrified, she have no pyarachute training. MVD man say jump out of saucer, pull cord, maybe chute open, maybe not. Okay, nyext in line.

"Also are dropped spades and saws, no food. Pryisoners must dig pits, saw dead leshiy into logs, put up barricyade. If they put up whole barricyade in ten days, then they get food. Challenge Yanneka", she added bitterly. "Leshiy attack and destroy barricyade nine times. Grandmother Irina is in tenth wave. She realize leshiy eat leshiy, yorganize cyatapults to throw dead leshiy far out into foryest, clear whole area, save colony. When colony buildings fyinished, statue go up of fat MVD colonel with plaque that say he save town by thyinking of cyatapult. I do not want", she finished, "to go byack to Russian people."

"R-Russia is a very nice place today", tried Jenkins. "The M-Moscow branch of M-McDonald's is the l-largest in the world."

Alastair nodded in sarcastic agreement. "Oh yes, modern Russia has come a long way. It is possible to openly criticize Lenin and Stalin while eating the worst hash browns you have ever had."

Vladlena's eyes narrowed. "Hyash Browns?"

"Vladlena can't go back to Russia", said Cleo. "She's a dangerous quantity. She knows the Secret. She can't be left wandering the streets out of anyone's control. What guarantee is there that there won't be a knock on her door in Moscow or Leningrad in the middle of the night, and someone won't drag her out to a saucer and fly her back to gulag?"

Vladlena screwed up her face, making herself look remarkably ugly in Cleo's opinion.

"I will go with Pyenyelope", said Vladlena. "Pyenyelope is strong and brave, has soul of zek. Wheryever Pyenyelope goes, I follow."

"What's a zek?" said Cleo to Alastair.

"A prison camp inmate", said Alastair. "Singular zek, plural zeki. Interesting. Vladlena Matveyevna appears to consider gulag prisoners to be the highest form of life."

Vladlena looked round fiercely. "Zeki have build everything man-made on Krasnaya 3. Zeki work in cold, in heat, on one tenth amount of food yeaten by guards and yadministrators. Zeki continue to be Jew or Moslem or Chryistian even when hyit over hyead with styick and put in cell with leshiy. Zeki clyear foryest, mine salt, dryill for oil. Zeki are workers and are in chyains. Russian Ryevolution have happen on Earth, but not yet on Krasnaya 3. But zeki will rise, and zeki will rule. Gryandmother Irina promyise this. Zeki cannot be kyilled with cold cyells or hard lyabour or yexile to another star. Zeki are yindestructible."

"Except by bright blue alien life forms", pointed out Alastair.

Vladlena's lip quivered, and she said nothing more.

Jenkins shrugged helplessly. "Well", he said, "I s-suppose that means less p-paperwork for me."