 
The Guardian

of the

Washing Machine

## (or alien emergency escape space-time portal)

Richard Jenkins

## Published by Weston Books

Copyright © 2016 Richard Jenkins. All rights reserved.

The right of Richard Jenkins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher or author. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author's or publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN: 978-0-9570560-2-2

##

# CHAPTER 1

To some, gazing up at a clear night sky can be a dangerous activity. If left to ponder the wonder the of the galaxy and the endless space that exists beyond it for even a smidgen too long, their thoughts can drift away to become lost and separated from the everyday realities that fill the everyday lives of all, normal, everyday people. From their dazzled imaginations fantastic ideas and magnificent visions will rocket up into the void of space and explode like fireworks to fill the black with the colour of their dreams.

One such man with a mind vulnerable to the seductive charms of a brilliant night sky was Siavash Reginald Gianluca Rogers (formerly plain Derek John Rogers - still bumbling into middle-age, rapidly balding, as skinny as a lamp post and just as switched on for most of the time he wasn't) who, to the worry of his daughter Fairuza and son Giovanni (aged 11 and 10 respectively), was rather too fond of perusing the night sky with a jittery stare and a beguiled imagination. In fact, he cared little, if at all, for any other view, even that of a working telly, much to Giovanni's concern and confusion. But then this was a boy who firmly believed the only views that mattered were the digital ones he watched and controlled on any LCD screen.

The lightness of Siavash's mind and its willingness to be pulled dreaming through space was made worse by the location and design of the house he lived in. Its exterior made him believe the house had been built to resemble, if not actually be, a ship. But not a ship to explore the waters of Earth, rather one built to chew-up the miles of intergalactic space.

To be fair, it required little imagination to look at the house and picture a ship. The walls were skimmed with smooth white plaster, and the second and third floors were just a third the length of the rectangular ground floor. To an open, child-like, mind this looked like the bridge of a ship rising above a deck below.

The house was built in the Victorian age and was a gentleman's folly: the whim of a man with too much time and money to spend. Lucky that man. Good for him. Praise be the loons. We all have a folly or two waiting to get out and frankly we should do everything we can to get these follies out even if we have to push until something embarrassing goes pop.

Set in the deepest countryside high in the Shropshire Hills, the location of the house also conspired against (farted in the face of) the everyday sanity of Siavash Rogers. At night, in cities and towns, the hazy glow of artificial light produces a sort of fog that impairs the view of the starry night sky. In rural Shropshire, however, no such fog shimmers between the ground and sky, so when the sky is free of clouds, the stars do truly dazzle.

To compound the issue even further, as the house was perched on a hillside the large widescreen window on the third floor produced a panoramic, IMAX brilliant view of the sky. The impact of this was considerable. To look through the window was to feel cast out into the sky, or at least imagine the house was floating high above the ground, or, if Siavash, flying through the Milky Way on a vital intergalactic mission.

To once again be fair to Siavash - and why not, he is, after all, something of a loon - we are all travelling through space at a quite dizzying speed. As the Earth orbits the Sun, the solar system orbits the Milky Way while the Milky Way hurtles ever on through interstellar space. Everything is on the move. Even the frailest old granny is zipping madly along, (as soon we shall see for real).

His house was a spaceship. Is that what Mr Rogers believed? Yes, although a spaceship without an engine is like a bird with unflappable or otherwise useless wings - a chicken or a turkey not an eagle or an owl.

Undaunted, he took to the garage and with a single multi-tool penknife, a roll of gaffer tape and some other bits-and-bobs including a broken vacuum cleaner and a length of leaky hose pipe built an engine that he knew would revolutionise powered space flight. All the engine lacked was a cool turbocharger and a small amount of alien technology. There were loads of turbochargers on eBay, he only lacked the cash to buy, but as for the alien know-how, he had to concoct another plan hence The Intergalactic Space Taxi Service was born. His dirt-cheap prices would pull in the alien punters. A small deposit on advance bookings would give him enough alien money to fund an alien shopping spree. Before he had a fare to honour, his award winning engine would roar into life.

"Space ace!" he cried. "Finally, it's all within my grasp! Unlimited powered space travel, and a proper, fulfilling job that pays a decent living wage."

Unfortunately, for three whole years, not a single alien booked a ride - not even for a sightseeing tour of Saturn's rings. Not that this dented the reality of Siavash's new found dream. He worked day and night to ready the ship. The engine grew to fill the garage as bits-and-bobs: a washing machine drum, a rusty old bicycle, a pair of mouldy curtains, two broken irons, various bits of wire, a bird table, and much more besides were glued, strapped and taped on to it.

The third floor room with the panoramic window, which he now consider to be the taxi's windscreen, became the Flight Deck. Originally, an old desk chair was modified to become the captain's chair. Buttons were stuck to the arms: actual buttons, those found on clothes as well as boiled sweets in a variety of colours. When pressed, none quite worked, but you got the idea. In fact, there were lots of buttons all over the walls and on various command consoles that he had made out of old bits of furniture. The navigation system consisted of twenty-four pocket calculators, which somehow he managed to get sent to him free in the post, glued together in one long row, and two old portable televisions which could no longer tune to any channel.

As the years ebbed away so did the money he had saved in the bank, that which paid the mortgage and clothed and fed Fairuza and Giovanni. He could feel his dream sinking, but a captain, he knew, never leaves his ship. So he didn't. He never once set foot outside the house. He stayed locked inside obsessed by his dream and the view from the windscreen window that took him on a journey through the galaxy every night when the sky was clear. Better to be poor than have a normal, boring job, he thought - not that his children agreed.

And then, from a little £5 stash of Premium Bonds, he won £10,000 pounds. Quivering, holding the letter that told of his winning, his dream rebooted, and his destiny was reaffirmed.

"This is the boost. This is the spark that lights the fuel," he cried. "This...this...this is the work of aliens!" He gasped, shocked. "Ruddy hell, I'm live on alien TV!" His stare settled on an imaginary camera. He smiled shyly and waved.

"Alright? I'm Siavash, and I'm moved to say, a million earthly thanks."

Embarrassed by the attention, he rushed through a door and out of the room.

"Wait!" he stopped, an idea having sprung into his mind. "It's probably an alien version of Dragons' Den. The money isn't a prize; it's an investment!"

Bursting with excitement, he ran to the Flight Deck, pressed the letter against the windscreen and screamed up at the sky.

"I'll give you five percent but not a single percent more!"

As the letter didn't vanish from his hand, he considered his offer accepted.

"It's a deal. It's done! Speak to my lawyer, I'm off to build an empire! To infinity, for a pound!"

# CHAPTER 2

Sunday 28th of June. Oh, what a glorious day this was going to be. Three weeks had passed since the investment was made, three weeks to plan how best to spend it. Fairuza and Giovanni, having spent two nights at their Nan's, where now due home. On their return, Siavash would reveal how he had spent the money.

The moment would be his to savour. He would smash to smithereens the dead-end that after three long years had come to block his way. His children's hearts would once again fill with hope, and their belief in him and his fantastic dream would once again be in bloom. In their eyes, he will once again stand tall and proud as a pioneer, a man on the frontier of space exploration. At their next school assembly, his son and daughter will rise from the floor and cry aloud,

"Yes, my dad drives a taxi, but it's a cool one that flies through space!"

And then, just for effect, they will turn to the teachers and moon. Once again, he will be their inspiration. They will stand before him and become dizzy with awe.

Five thousand inflated balloons filled the house. Several rooms resembled ball filled play pits and very deep ones at that. Printed on every balloon was the following promotional blurb,

'The Intergalactic Space Taxi Service. To Infinity For A Pound. 24 Hour Service. No Drunks. £50 fine for Puking.'

Using a tank of compressed helium, which came with the order, it took Siavash an entire day to inflate them all. When inflating balloon number 4998, it occurred to him the balloon factory had forgotten to print his contact details on any of the balloons. Furious, he picked up the phone, called the factory and demanded to make his complaint known.

However, due to all the helium he had inadvertently inhaled, his voice was pitched so high and sounded so squeaky (think deranged chipmunk reeling from a kick in the nuts), no one from the factory could take his complaint seriously. In fact, all who listened, the manager had put him on speaker phone, were reduced through laughter to quivering jelly-like wrecks. Siavash's only compensation was the belief that, as the laughter was so manic, several of the laughers must have wet themselves for all to see.

Of course, his rant and the laughter it inspired was recorded and uploaded to YouTube where it received over 100,000 views in less than a day.

For a brief period of time, it became quite the thing for dudes of a musical nature to sample the closing lines of his high-pitched rant and splice it into various musical forms and tracks:

"You'll be working for me one day, sonny boy. You'll be my number one. No! My number two! You'll be my number two puke cleaner. You hear that? You'll be my number two, yes my number two, you'll be my number two puke cleaner!"

When he realised why they found him so funny, he chuckled at himself and forgave them reasoning, how hard can it be for advanced alien beings to find the only Intergalactic Space Taxi available for hire on a small planet like the Earth?

He planned to release the balloons, some of which he thought would go all the way to outer space. The inspiration for this advertising campaign came from an incident from his childhood that still played vividly in his mind.

One day, aged seven years old, he stood in the road outside his house and watched a balloon fall from an otherwise empty sky directly into his outstretched hand. A small envelope was attached to the balloon on which was written, 'CONGRATULATIONS!'

He opened the envelope, and a found a card inside, which read, 'To claim your prize, call this number....'

He made the call and gave his details. Five days later, his prize arrived by post. It was an Atari video game called, 'Emergency Escape Rescue Mission. Blast Off Now!'

Now, this was an age before computer technology furnished every corner of every room. Indeed, the Rogers's home couldn't boast a toaster let alone a state-of-the-art Atari video games console, which rather made his winning prize utterly useless.

He asked his dad to buy him one, for his birthday or Christmas. But his dad didn't believe in video games.

"Play games on a television? Not on your nelly," he said. "This isn't California of the U. S of A, son. It's Preston Gubbals, of the Shropshire, England."

The fact that his dad didn't even own their television, but rather rented it, as most people did, (and only one TV per household in those days) didn't help matters at all. He said,

"The television is for television programmes only. It's too small for anything new. Look at it; there's not enough room inside there for programmes and for games. If we try, we'll break it. And who knows what then will come spilling out?"

Please note, those were the days when televisions had only three working channels and NO REMOTE CONTROL - oh, imagine the indignity!

Siavash's mum was a little more understanding and willing to help. She knew someone who had a friend who had a microwave oven, and thought, since microwave ovens were new and modern and magical, they could try the game cassette in it. Fortunately, Derek, as he was known then, declined the offer.

The game remained a mystery and a fascination to Siavash all the way to the present day. It arrived in an otherwise empty box, without any explanation to why or from who he had won it.

He always kept it, still in its box, now framed and hanging on the wall in the Control Room, and often thought about it. Years later, he bought an old Atari console from eBay, but although the console played other Atari games it wouldn't play his prize. Intrigued, he googled the game but found no information about it. It was as if the game had never existed.

Back to Siavash's glorious day of revelation, which, not untypically, wasn't going to plan. He was under siege, and his only defence was a potato gun and a clothes peg that clamped shut his nose.

Flies, oh the horror! A great swarm had invaded the house. The frequency of their collective buzz tuned into Siavash and made his whole body vibrate. Waves of painful tickles rolled through his bones and out through his skin, which felt like it was fizzing. He really didn't know whether to laugh or cry. To make matters worse, his number one enemy, Lady Mary Ball-Sitter, was charging towards the house. Needless to say, she and the flies were connected. They were all in her power; they were all but her minions.

Lady Mary wanted the house for herself. It was once part of her family's estate. The gentleman who had built it was her great-great-grandfather. He called it their watchtower for it was set high in the hills and looked down upon their many acres of land. However, her grandfather, who was a very bad man, was forced to sell it off, along with a good chunk of the family's land, in order to pay off his gambling debts and the taxman. Lady Mary thought this a great indignity. When she inherited the family estate, she vowed to take back the house even though Siavash, who had bought it years ago, was now the rightful and legal owner.

She was a fearsome woman, aged fifty, stout and uncommonly strong. To her, there were just three categories of animals: one, posh country people who owed acres of land; two, beasts; and three, filthy beasts. Siavash thought an invisible force field surrounded her. Like a boulder, she was immune to the weather. Rain, snow, sleet, the freezing cold all failed to cause her discomfort or slow her down. Whatever the weather, she could stand in a field for hours on end, her shotgun primed and ready, patiently waiting for something to kill. Dogs were her favourite, those that had come with their owners for a walk in the countryside and who had dared to run free from the leash onto her land.

Once, the school Fairuza and Giovanni attend held a fund raising event to which, and to everyone's surprise, Lady Mary donated thirty meat and gravy pies. As word spread of their delicious taste, the pies sold out in less than an hour. However, Lady Mary later revealed the meat the pies contained was roadkill - animals found dead in the road, hit by cars and other vehicles. The pies contained badger, crow, pigeon, blackbird, shrew, cat, dog and mouse. Knowing this, made the people who had eaten the pies feel rather sick and uneasy. Lady Mary laughed at their weakness and told them all that she'd never had a pet that she hadn't finished off in a pie or sandwich, even the stick insect she'd had as a child.

Her clothes, all of them, were made from tweed - a thick wool fabric beloved of country folk that is great for coats and jackets, but coarse and itchy when touching the skin - even her socks and pyjamas and knickers were made from the stuff. Not that this ever caused her skin to itch, even in the delicate places, like between the toes. Her skin was just like cowhide, thick and covered with course, bristly hair.

She considered Siavash to be a filthy beast, a foreign invader, a squatter who had defaced and vandalised something that was no mere house but rather a monument to the power and dominance of her family, the ancient and honourable Ball-Sitters.

As she owned the land that surrounded the house, she had something of an advantage. She and her family had a passion for cattle and had farmed them for hundreds of years.

"The Ball-Sitters," she would proclaim, "have cattle in their blood."

And to look at her you wouldn't disagree, hence her nickname, Lady Bull-Sitter. Her thousand plus head of cattle produced a massive amount of dung, which she dumped in great steaming mounds in the fields that surrounded Siavash's house. In the summer, the festering dung would produce a dense cloud of stink and a thick swarm of flies both of which did their very best to get inside the house.

The 28th June had burst into a brilliant hot summer's day, and with the warmth came the flies and the powerful stench of cow muck.

With a whopping great King Edward potato and his trusty twenty year old spud gun, Siavash took on the flies. The stink he blocked with the clothes peg. It was an all-out battle. Outnumbered, one against thousands. Sortie after sortie of dive-bombing fly came in to attack him. Fortunately, Siavash was a truly magnificent shot, even with fizzing skin and a vibrating body. He really could shoot flies from the sky.

An opened window had let the flies inside, but with the window closed, it took him less than an hour to win the battle and shoot them all down. But the flies were simply minions of a much greater foe, Lady Mary Ball-Sitter, who was now banging on the front door with her horsewhip demanding to speak to Siavash. She had arrived on her favourite mode of powered transport, a quad-bike. Accompanying her, as they often did, was her pack of slavishly obedient hunting hounds.

Now, Siavash was not very good with people and, as mentioned, never left the house. Lady Mary knew this, but even so, his tactic was to pretend he was out. He hid in the hallway, cowering behind the front door. The letterbox snapped open and in wafted her voice, which was strangely delicate, calm and poised.

"Ah, my hounds, come take the scent of the filthy beast within for one day soon you will hunt it from this land!"

She laughed, quite quaintly then began to address Siavash.

"Stay put you cowardly worm! I have no wish to look at you unless, of course, it is down the barrel of my most deadliest gun. But I do insist you listen to me, that you hear the voice of your superior. I hereby inform you, I have you crushed! Yes, that is correct. You are well and truly trapped! Here, the facts and figures for you to read."

A large, bloated envelope plopped through the letterbox and fell onto Siavash's lap. It was addressed to him and, in red ink, were stamped the words, 'Important Legal Documents Enclosed'. It made him recoil and shiver as if a tarantula spider had just fallen on him.

Lady Mary continued, "To summarise, it has come to my attention that, as the titled Lady of this manor, I have, by ancient law and custom, the right to charge you a fee - any fee, a thousand pounds if I so desire, and of course I do, at least - every time you or anyone else for that matter sets foot on my land in order to reach this, what you dare to call your home." Another burst of laughter, this time triumphant. "So, you filthy beast of a man, consider yourself conquered! If only now I could give you feathers, not to let you fly away, but to allow me to pluck you while still very much alive. Oh then what a very agreeable day this would be."

The letterbox snapped shut. Siavash was stunned. He looked at the envelope and suddenly, as if flinging that poisonous spider off his lap, in one quick, frightened movement tossed it away down the hall.

Lady Mary stood astride her quad bike, as proud as a conquering general. No fly came zipping in to enter her personal space, as none had the nerve to try. She inhaled a very deep breath then proclaimed,

"Ah, the smell of dung and victory! Do you smell it?" she asked her hounds demanding to know. In unison, they nodded their heads and sniffed the air. Lady Mary continued, "Dung and victory! The very smell of the mighty Ball-Sitters!"

Siavash, who could hear Lady Mary beyond the door, continued to cower behind it. His eyes were crunched shut and his reddening cheeks fully puffed out as he strained to force a brainwave to spark in his worryingly empty head.

Lady Mary cast a scornful gaze over the large, neglected and garden, or rather land that had been left to grow wild, then turned to look at the door and spoke,

"Look at this land. My rightful property! I will clear it of all that is wild! This spilling nature, I will repair. The rabbits and squirrels, I will shoot. The children too if they get in my way. All traces of the filthy beast squatters I will erase! But while they do remain, please, my hounds feel free to foul!"

She whacked her whip against her thigh without even flinching. Commanded, the hounds set about doing what dogs do, doggy-do and doggy pee, as they tore through the garden running riot.

Siavash's eyes and mouth snapped open as a powerful thought burst into his mind - sausages. Followed by another - bombs. He scrambled to his feet and ran from the hall.

The fridge door opened. Siavash reached inside and pulled out a large packet of sausages.

Lady Mary Ball-Sitter, still standing astride her quad bike, turned to address her rioting hounds. As soon as she spoke, they all looked at her and froze - twenty cocked dog legs hung in the air.

"When you've emptied your bowls, you will follow my scent back to the kennels." Her voice became a whisper. "Last one back gets their very own pie."

A cruel burst of laughter squirmed out of her mouth. She then whacked her whip against the side of the quad-bike, as if commanding a horse to walk on, then, still standing, slowly accelerated away. No hound dared move or look away. She clicked her fingers and, behind her, the rioting commenced once more.

Siavash sprinted up the stairs, dodging balloons as he went. He hadn't neglected the garden, he had, in fact, allowed it to grow wild. It wasn't laziness or his overwhelming preference for staying indoors it was a conscious design decision. He believed his intergalactic travelling customers would prefer the wild natural look. And of course, the bugs: the slugs, snails, the crawlies and creeps that so loved the overgrown vegetation could well provide snack food his alien cliental.

Reaching a window that overlooked the garden, he opened it and lobbed out a couple of sausages, or sausage bombs as he thought them to be. Their odour transfixed the hounds, for what dog, even one under the command of a woman as fearsome as Lady Mary Ball-Sitter, can resist a sausage? One whiff is enough to break the spell of fear and training and revert such hounds back to a wilder, freer nature.

With the hounds roused and running to claim a sausage, Siavash loaded the spud gun with a bullet of sausage meat, took aim at Lady Mary and fired. Five hounds watched the bullet fly through the air. As it came hurtling towards Lady Mary, who continued to ride away with her back to the action unaware of the bullet rapidly approaching her left buttock, four hounds jumped up to try and claim the tasty treat, but all failed to pluck it from the air. The fifth, unable to resist, took his chance, as the bullet hit Lady Mary's ample, muscular left buttock, he jumped up and bit it, the bullet and her buttock. Instantly, the hound realised his mistake and became stiff with fear his mouth still clamped to her buttock. The quad bike, however, didn't stop. Lady Mary showed absolutely no reaction.

Siavash looked on amazed.

"What? No. Her bum cheeks must be calluses, like lumps of dead skin. That's quite an advantage. I could drive the taxi to Pluto and back without ever needing to stand. Or maybe they're camel humps. Mind blower! Pluto and back without needing to stand, eat or drink!"

He reloaded the spud gun and fired a second shot. The four unsuccessful hounds, still crazed by the scent of sausage, readied themselves to snatch the prize. All went for it. One was successful, but the taste of its reward was overwhelmed by the taste of Lady Mary's right buttock, and the awful taste of fear that came with it.

This time, the quad bike stopped, and Lady Mary turned calmly to look behind. As she did, all the hounds, except the two clamped to her bum, their bodies still rigid with fear, quickly recommenced the rioting and the cocking of their legs. Quickly satisfied, and without a hint of pain showing on her face, she turned to look forward then continued on her way. The riot and fouling instantly ceased as the hounds stopped to watch their master leave the garden and to ponder the fate of their two unfortunate friends who remained clamped to the two mighty shielded-like buttocks.

This moment of pause gave Siavash a chance to save his garden. To occupy the hounds for a minute or two, he lobbed the remaining sausages out through the window then sprinted to the top of the stairs where he burst through a door into the Flight Deck.

Every ship needs a fog horn, not because they are particularly useful, they aren't, and certainly not in space where sound can't travel through the vacuum, but rather every ship needs a fog horn because they are every captain's favourite toy. The reason for this is simple a fog horn blasts out a fart-like noise that can be heard for miles around.

Siavash was very fond of his own, which was, it has to be said, a monster: ten normal fog horns rigged together to form one all-powerful beast. And he knew the mammoth doom-laden sound it produced could cause trees to shed their leaves; squirrels to grab their nuts, those buried for the winter and scoff them all in one mad greedy rush; birds to fly into windows or to fly only up; the milk in cows to turn to cheese; cats to form a conscience and plead to the local wildlife for complete and total forgiveness. And hounds? Well, as Siavash found out, they all started to dig one rapidly growing hole.

Not wanting his garden to become one giant shaft to the underground, for who knows what crazy things live down there, he released the button and silenced the horn. The hounds stopped digging immediately and looked utterly lost and befuddled. But then, they sniffed the scent of their master, which, like a dung loving phantom, hung in the air to menace all who felt its presence. It yanked the hounds out of their befuddlement and reinstalled a sense of terror. A moment later, off they ran, swarming out of the garden in abject panic.

With the hounds gone, Siavash remembered the letter. He imagined it growing, feeding and breeding, becoming ever more scary and powerful. He ran into the kitchen. Balloons mobbed him. From a drawer, he took a roll of gaffer tape; from a bucket, he grabbed a soggy, dripping mop.

Back in the hall, the duel began. With the mop raised above his head, he rained the soggy mop head down on the letter once, twice and several times more. With the envelope subdued, he dived on it and wrestled it into several wraps of gaffer tape, with all the vigour and action of a man wrestling a crocodile in an effort to tape its mouth closed.

With the letter now restrained, he took it to the kitchen and fixed it to strings of twenty-four balloons. Back in the hall, he opened the front door and bundled the balloons and letter out. They shot up into the sky. He pushed the door shut and moved to a window to watch the letter disappear up into space. Bang! The sound of a gunshot. The balloons shattered, destroyed. The letter plummeted to the ground. Siavash watched, as did Lady Mary down the barrel of her second favourite gun. The letter landed in the garden, into the clutches of a large clump of giant nettles. Siavash grimaced as he imagined a thousand stings.

"Oochie woochie!" he said, before turning away from the window. "A letter? What letter? On this ship? Where? Can you see it? Here? Not here? This is the future, baby. Fax me!"

He chuckled to himself, then, suddenly remembering, looked at his watch.

"The kids!!" he cried in something of a panic. "The blighters are coming home!"

# CHAPTER 3

Fairuza and Giovanni had just one Nan, although it had to be said, was more than enough for two.

A worrying trend has developed of late, health conscious grandparents - fat fighting, sugar shunning, exercise hungry super-fogies, who all want to live for as long as possible, with those with the most to leave, money and house wise, wanting to live for the longest. But what about a grandparent's first duty, to stuff their grandchildren with greedy amounts of cake, sweets, pizzas, cheese, fizziest drinks and the spiciest instant noodles? And their second duty, to leave their children/grandchildren a healthy pile of inheritance?

It won't be long before Santa Claus ditches his sleigh - reindeer is, after all, a very lean and healthy meat - to commence his annual rounds on foot, jogging. His sack will start off empty - presents will be sent by email as they will be school text books and that sort of thing - but will gradually grow full as he collects money and other donations off all the good boys and girls of the world. Yes, that's right, sponsorship money from you! He will turn his annual voyage into a sponsored run. Santa Claus will become Santa Cause. The charity single will break the X-Factor's hold on the Christmas number one.

Fortunately, Nan loved the good life and much of the bad, too. At age 81, quite deaf and partially blind, you may not expect to see her driving a car, especially not with Fairuza and Giovanni as passengers in the back, but here she was, a little frail old granny squinting, hunched over the steering wheel zipping madly along a narrow country lane. You see, to Nan, driving was a quite terrifying experience, which is why she drove a very fast car, very fast indeed so to make each journey time as short as possible. The faster she could drive the better she felt. She was the oldest member of the online forum 'Chavtastic Boy Racers' and bought all her cars from their classified ads section. The group held regular meet-ups, which Nan would occasionally attend. At one such meeting, her truly spectacular doughnuts earned her big time respect as well as the nickname, The Granny Dough-nutter.

"Nan, you're driving too fast!" cried Fairuza, who sat in the back virtually hidden beneath a large collection of books, one of which, and a very large one at that, was The Collected Works of Shakespeare, completely covered her lap.

"What, this car? It's only going sixty," Nan replied, pointing at the speedometer. "Says here it'll do a hundred and fifty. It's hardly got a puff on. It got twin-turbos, you know!"

"I don't feel safe!" said Fairuza.

"Nor does Nan," said Giovanni. "She's useless at driving. That's why she drives so fast, so she doesn't have to do it for very long."

"Correct, that boy!" said Nan, admiringly. "He's one for the top. He's one to scale the dizziest dizzy heights!"

"Really?" said Fairuza a little offended. "And what about me? Where will I get to in this mad, chaotic, very big world?" said Fairuza now sounding worried.

"Oh, here and there, luv. Here and there," said Nan.

"You won't get from under those books," said Giovanni to Fairuza.

"The less time I spend driving on the road, the better and safer for all concerned," said Nan.

"I won't get round the next corner, not safely," said Fairuza.

"You've got your seatbelt on," said Giovanni.

"I would prefer an ejector seat!" said Fairuza.

"I'll tell you the most dangerous thing in this car, young lady," said Nan.

"A multitasking pensioner?" said Fairuza, quietly enough so that Nan couldn't hear.

"Your books!" continued Nan. "We're wearing seatbelts. Are they? If I have to brake sharply, those books would fly around this car like cannonballs and likely take our heads right off."

"They'd spare my head, I'm sure. They love me. Test it. I'm willing to try," said Fairuza.

"What's the one you're reading?" said Nan.

"Shakespeare," said Giovanni, amused.

"Oh no, imagine losing your head to that nonsense. Haven't you got any Hairy Bikers?" asked Nan.

"No! I have not!" said Fairuza.

"Get this, Nan," said Giovanni, "you don't even have to read this Shakespeare book for school and Fairuza's reading it anyway."

"I left school when I got to ten," said Nan.

"Ten?" shrieked Fairuza.

"Well, if you can count to ten you can count to anything," said Nan.

Nan and Giovanni laughed. Fairuza rolled her eyes.

"I want to leave school at ten," said Giovanni, and then remembered, "I am ten!"

"Then, please, you must. Really, you must," said Fairuza. "I'm sure the school will let you. It's the grades of boys like you that have dragged the school down to the bottom of the league tables. You taint us all!"

"Nan, I choose not to know much. I want my brain close to empty. A full up computer gets slow."

"Very wise boy. You're a very wise boy," said Nan.

Giovanni turned to Fairuza and spoke quietly so that Nan couldn't hear, "That's why old people get slow and forgetful, they've lived a long time, their memories are full." He raised his voice so that Nan could hear him. "So I'm keeping my memory as empty as possible. Then, what I do know, the stuff that I actually want to know, I'll process at lightening fast speeds."

"Yes. That's the way, travel light." said Nan. "That's the sign of an experienced round-the-world traveller, just like your Nan, and that god of man Ray Mears."

"Light and fast. Not like Fairuza," said Giovanni.

"No, don't!" said Fairuza interrupting and silencing him. "Brother, understand, we are both destined to be laden heavy with baggage: tatty school uniforms, rubbish at sport, poor, a family business that, quite literally, has never taken off."

"Won't weigh me down. I'm a lean, mean processing machine. I'm the latest model. Future proof. Not like this pile of rubbish," he lifted up the tablet computer he was holding. "Even Nan's got a better tablet than me,"

"Tablets? Don't talk to me about tablets. You get to my age, and your breakfast is tablets, most of your snacks too," said Nan.

"Computer tablets. This pile of rubbish,' he said showing her his tablet. 'It's a right old fogey."

'Oi! Ageist!" said Nan. "I'll Tweet that, I will. Me and the old birds, we'll Twitter you silly, we will. You dare mess with us!"

"You're not an old fogey, Nan. You're just old. My tablet's old and a fogey. It's the slowest computer ever," said Giovanni.

"No it's not," said Fairuza. "It's just bored. You've depressed it. All you do is play silly boring games on it."

"Although it's still faster than Fairuza, and lots more fun!" said Giovanni.

"Now don't start bickering, Phyllis and John," said Nan.

"Fairuza!" replied Giovanni.

"And Giovanni!" added Fairuza.

"No! Definitely not! I'm not having it. What sort of names are those? Not proper, right, straight and true names. That's your Dad for you. He's a right strange one, Derek!" said Nan.

"Siavash!" Giovanni and Fairuza said together.

"Horses!" cried Nan. "Or dogs! Or logs!"

Giovanni and Fairuza looked through the windscreen and saw two horses, with riders, trotting in the road ahead of them.

"Horses!" they both said.

Nan slammed on the brakes. Fortunately, Fairuza, who had anticipated the emergency stop, managed to grab hold of her books to prevent them becoming head slicing cannon balls.

"Horses! Worse than cows are horses," said Nan.

"In what way?" asked Fairuza.

"In every way. Twitchy things, very twitchy things. Never try to milk a horse," said Nan.

The car now moved at a crawl and, as it moved only slightly faster than the horses were trotting, the overtaking manoeuvre became a painfully slow and drawn out affair.

"There we are. There we are," said Nan. "No fuss, no drama. That's the way. Safely, safely. Control the situation. Alpha granny be. Alpha granny is me."

"You can go faster than this, Nan," said Giovanni.

"Quiet! I'm concentrating! There's airbags in the front, not in the back! You'll come out worse. That's the truth!"

Fairuza and Giovanni felt rather foolish trapped in this slow-mo world. As they pulled level with the two horses, they two riders looked at Fairuza and Giovanni with bemused smiles, which Fairuza and Giovanni returned.

"All's safe here horsey horses," said Nan.

Finally, the car pulled just ahead of the two horses.

"Right, let's have it back," said Nan, who then floored the accelerator. The engine roared. The horses reared. Giovanni and Fairuza were thrust back into their seats as the car blasted off.

"There, all safe and well. Where were we?" said Nan.

"Disturbing horses," said Fairuza.

"Silly names. Your names. Names to impress the aliens? The little green men?" Nan said mockingly.

"And the ladies of Earth,' said Giovanni. "They love the name, Giovanni." He put on an exuberant Italian accent. "Giovanni. Giovanni," he said as if it was the coolest name ever. Then, returning to his normal voice, "The future earth ladies that is. The current ones, the girls at school, and the boys for that matter, think it's the name of a freak. I'm the freak, and she's the geek."

"Baggage!' Fairuza proclaimed. "And Fairuza is a proper name, Nan. There are plenty of girls in England called Fairuza, which, and not to turn the pressure on me all the way up to scream, means, woman of triumph."

"Woman of trump more like," said Giovanni sniggering.

"Dull, pathetic, pathetic and lame!' Fairuza snapped at him before continuing to speak to Nan. "There are many boys called Giovanni, too."

"It's not his name. It's his good looks and talent that will send him to the top of the pile. His name's a hindrance. Giovanni. Giovanni. I can't even pronounce it," complained Nan.

"You just did," said Fairuza.

"It doesn't sound right however you say it. I once knew a real Italian, and he emptied the bins. You just think of that, young lady!"

"A bin man is an OK sort of job for someone who wants to do that sort of thing, or for someone who has failed to achieve anything close to their dreams."

"It wasn't his job; his job was selling ice cream. Or was it dressing shop window dummies? Something with dummies, I think."

"Giovanni's teacher?"

"Girls mature quicker than boys," said Giovanni to Fairuza, "which basically means you've peaked, and the future, young lady, is mine."

"Never! I will not let that happen!" said Fairuza.

"Good luck with that, Phyllis,' said Nan.

"Fairuza!" said Fairuza.

"Dad gave us our names to inspire in us magnificence, which for me, at least, has worked," said Giovanni.

"Don't listen to him, Nan. You'll encourage him! Be hard on him now to save him from total future despair!"

"Then tell me this, Fairuza aged eleven, have you got your future completely sorted out and looking absolutely magnificent? Because I, Giovanni aged ten, most definitely have!"

"Oh, if only I could be so ignorant, so self-deceived, then maybe I could enjoy a weekend lost as a foolish child."

"Robots!" proclaimed Nan.

"Correct! My robot!" proclaimed Giovanni.

Giovanni's plan for the future was perfectly simple; he was going to buy a robot and then send it out to work. The money the robot earned, Giovanni would take for himself. The robot would spend the day working; Giovanni would spend the day playing video games. To help him achieve this ambition, most of the money that came his way, from birthdays, Christmases and his paper round wages, he saved. Of course, such sophisticated robots didn't yet quite exist, but soon, he knew, they would, and he, with his hard-saved cash, would be at the front of the shopping queue ready to buy one. Not that Giovanni was foolish enough to have all his eggs in one basket, so to speak. He also had a backup plan.

"I'm going to be very handsome," he once told his Nan.

"Correct," said Nan.

"And I'm going to be in the right place at exactly the right time,"

"What place and time is that?" asked Nan.

"I don't know. But when it happens, I'll be there."

"Good boy. Wise boy. Handsome boy," said Nan admiringly.

Fairuza, on the other hand, didn't know what her future held. She didn't know what job she wanted to do or what career path to take. However, she was certain of this - whatever it was she did finally become, she would have to work incredibly hard and pass loads of exams in order to become it. And she too had a backup plan.

"I'm learning Chinese, Mandarin. It's the future they say," she once told Nan.

"Chinese, Mandarin? The future? You going to start an English takeaway in China? Good for you. That's the job for you. You're thinking clearly now. You're a worker, I'll give you that. And you'll need to be. I could see you working at The Greasy Spoon," said Nan.

"I think I might do more than work in a takeaway," protested Fairuza.

"You do? Oh. Well good luck with that, luv. Good luck with that," not convinced.

Anyway, back to robots.

"When are robots going to drive cars?" asked Nan.

"Very soon!" said Giovanni. "All cars will drive themselves. They almost do now. Most jobs will be done by robots and computers."

"Oh great! More competition - robots and boys!" said Fairuza.

"But lucky for me I'm ahead of the curve. Not like Fairuza. She still reads real books. You're more fogey than Nan. Dragging all those books around everywhere you go."

"I like to feel the weight," replied Fairuza, deadly serious. "I need to feel the weight, the importance, the pressure, the hard slog of life! Never forget it! I will never forget it!"

"So, if I don't steer the car, the car will steer itself?" asked Nan.

"No," said Giovanni.

"Then why aren't we crashing?" she asked, waving her hands around above the steering wheel.

"Naaaannnnn!!!!" Giovanni and Fairuza screamed.

"Oh don't worry about me," said Nan, putting her hands back on the steering wheel. "I'm 84. I've survived it all war, famine, disease, hurricanes, men, children and crashing."

"You won't survive prison!" said Fairuza.

"Prison?"

"For dangerous driving with children onboard."

"Prison's a doddle. As long as I can watch Emmerdale of an evening, I don't care where I sleep." She slammed on the brakes. "Fog!!" she cried.

Fairuza just managed to hold on to her books. Giovanni looked through the windscreen at the view ahead.

"That's not fog!" he said. "That's a flock of sheep!"

And so it was. A flock of sheep, led by a farmer in very mucky overalls, was crossing the road from one field to another.

"Oh, that's alright then," said Nan, accelerating hard.

"Nan, brake!" said Fairuza.

"Why?"

"You'll hit the sheep!"

"What's that matter? Sheep are eaters!"

"Farmers, aren't!" said Giovanni.

"Treat people like idiots they become idiots. He should be looking out for me. I'm a danger. I shouldn't even be driving a car," said Nan.

"As you keep proving!" said Fairuza.

The farmer stood in the middle of the road frantically waving his arms at the rapidly approaching car.

"Why's he dancing? Is he mad? Is he making one at me?" asked Nan. "This'll get the pest!"

She pressed a button on the car stereo, turning it on. Out boomed the loudest, deepest, heaviest bass heard in the countryside since the last Glastonbury Festival. Fairuza and Giovanni were momentarily numbed, like being plunged into freezing cold water. A sudden gust of wind, Nan had opened the windows to release the musical beast and unleash it upon the farmer and his sheep, snapped them awake and released them from the stupor.

The flock of sheep parted in the road, each petrified sheep scattering into the field nearest to it. The farmer, however, seemed stuck with indecision. He wanted to stand his ground, but even a man of the land was no match for a speeding hot-hatch car and a roaring musical beast under the control of a slightly mad granny. Finally, he dived headfirst into a hedge.

Having passed the farmer, Nan turned the stereo off, although she didn't slow down. Fairuza and Giovanni, both shell-shocked, looked at each other.

"That's why she's deaf," said Giovanni.

"And wrinkled," said Fairuza.

"And grey."

"And mentally unstable."

"And wears those sort of nappies."

"What? Nappies? Fairuza?" asked Nan. "Hold on a mo; it's that bridge again. Would you believe it? That bridge again."

Fairuza and Giovanni looked through the windscreen and saw that the car speeding towards a humpbacked bridge.

"It's basically a ramp," said Fairuza to Giovanni.

"We survived it last time," he replied.

"Only just."

Giovanni pulled from his pocket his homemade organ donor card and showed it to Fairuza.

"Remember, I donate all my useable organs to my robot," he said.

"You haven't got a robot."

"That's the tragedy. I wanted it to have my brain."

"Oh, the horror!"

"If not my robot, then any other robot will do, so long as it doesn't do manual labour."

Fairuza opened her book, The Collected Works of Shakespeare, leaned forwards and buried her head inside it.

"What are you doing?" Giovanni asked.

"If I am to spill my brains, then let them, once, fall into greatness," she said.

"Who's spilling what back there?" Nan asked.

"Fairuza, her brains," said Giovanni.

Nan turned round and faced them, one of her hands barely touching the steering wheel, and the car still speeding towards the bridge. With her free hand, she pulled a hanky from her pocket and handed it to Giovanni.

"Here. Spill them on that," she said. "Proof! Always carry a handkerchief. You kids may think you know it all, that the words of a granny can't lay it down cool. Well, you're wrong. For most of human history its always been the old folk of the village who were considered wise and knowing. It's only now that you think we're all doolally. I've had that hanky with me for years. It's mopped up all kinds of messes, some very embarrassing ones."

Disgusted, Giovanni tossed it away on to Fairuza's head. She suddenly sat up.

"Just think Dad's money. We may never know our treats. I was hoping for a brand new, perfectly correct school uniform!"

Nan faced forwards, grabbed the steering wheel and slammed on the brakes. They all shot forward until their seatbelts snapped tight. The car stopped just before the bridge. Nan turned to face Fairuza and Giovanni.

"Money? Your father has money?" she asked.

"He won £10,000," said Fairuza.

"Oh," said Nan, disappointed. 'Is that all? I thought you meant real, proper juicy cash."

"Sorry to disappoint you."

"Oh, well, it's enough for you lot. It'll do well by you. I know your dad's spent his inheritance and well, really you're just a couple of poor kids. But in the long run, that's a good thing. Backbone! A bit of fight! That's what poor affords you."

"Oh, something to look forward to then," said Fairuza.

'I'd like to do more for you myself, moneywise. But even at 81 you've got to think about your future. Still, good thing for you, I'll croak it pretty soon, and when I do, I leave everything to you. Everything. Nothing to your dad because he's a buffoon."

"Thanks, Nan. You're the best," said Giovanni.

"Aww, bless him. Might be a little special extra for you."

"Double thanks.'

"Yes, wonderful news," said Fairuza.

"Well, he is the youngest," said Nan, "and he is due for the top, and it's not a cheap place to live the top. It's like living in London. But listen, when I do pop off for good, get round my house as sharp as you can."

"Why?" Giovanni asked.

Nan dropped her voice to a whisper, "Under the floorboards under my bed, there's a box, and in the loft, there's another box, a bigger box. What you find in these boxes is yours to keep. But, hush, tell no one. Certainly not anyone to do with the law."

"Definitely not," said Giovanni.

"No. But I hope we never have to look for those boxes, dear Nana," said Fairuza, very nearly sincerely.

"Well, not for ages, like until we're teenagers," added Giovanni.

"Oh," Nan continued, her voice still a whisper, "my laptop. Once you've got the boxes, take my laptop and smash it. I mean violently, with a hammer, a big hammer, until it's bits. And when it's bits, smash the bits until they're bits. Is that understood?"

Fairuza and Giovanni nodded their heads.

"Can I ask why?" Giovanni asked.

"No! Never! Never!" She turned to look forward then began to drive away. "Right. Let's get you pesky ones home. I'm not just some taxi driver like that man you call your dad. I've got a life to live!"

# CHAPTER 4

Fairuza and Giovanni were keen to get home. Nan dropped them off at the bottom of the lane that led to their house.

"Oh no. Not likely," said Nan, declining their offer to come inside and say hello to their Dad. "Rain, that's what's due for me. Look," she said pointing to an looming patch of black cloud, "a dark, brooding sky," she continued with a sense of foreboding. "And I'm no good with dark brooding skies. They give me the skids. You take your food and skedaddle."

She was referring to a large box full of homemade cakes, doughnuts and cookies. "Something to enjoy before the doctor starts taking your blood pressure regularly," she told them.

"Did you add extra jam?" asked Giovanni as he took the box from Nan.

"Oh, far too much. Don't sit on them. They'll squirt like a constipated chimp cured by a belly full of prunes," said Nan.

After saying goodbye with a kiss and a cuddle, Fairuza and Giovanni stood patiently in the road waving Nan goodbye as she turned the car around. However, after thirteen turns, in what was to become a twenty-four point turn in the road, Fairuza and Giovanni's patience was spent, so they turned and skedaddled up the lane towards their home.

Giovanni refused to lose any race to Fairuza, even when they weren't actually racing, and although he usually won these, often imagined, races, he usually only did so because Fairuza was weighed down by an adult-sized rucksack stuffed full of very heavy books. With this in mind, he had raced ahead of Fairuza, desperate to beat her home. But, seeing something, he suddenly stopped and pointed at the house.

"Look!" he called to Fairuza, "our house, it's leaking balloons."

Fairuza, who had caught him up, stopped and looked. Balloons were spewing out of the second floor window, out and up and away, taken by the wind to join a stream of balloons many hundreds long.

A look of worry fell over Fairuza's face. "How many balloons does ten thousand pounds buy?' she asked.

"A lot more than that," answered Giovanni, hopeful but not convinced.

"What if there is a lot more than that? A houseful?"

"My new Xbox!"

"Decent school uniform!"

"A new TV!"

"Books! Volumes!"

"An iPad!"

"A year at a private school!"

"More cash for my robot stash!"

"A private tutor at least!"

They looked at each other briefly, until the fear they shared propelled them onwards, sprinting towards their home.

As they turned into their garden, rain started pouring from the sky, which was welcome as it washed the air of flies and dung stink. With their heads bowed against the rain, Fairuza and Giovanni didn't notice the damage to the garden. They just headed straight for the front door and went inside. Siavash was there to greet them.

"The greatest news, it's raining!" he proclaimed.

"What's so great about that?" asked Giovanni.

"A picture paints a thousand words," said Siavash, grinning mischievously.

"And a thousand balloons, what do they paint?' asked Fairuza.

"Opportunity. Communication. But not paint, plant! For those balloons are seeds set to bloom. To attract the bees of business our way. Happy bees, busy bees, bees from far, far away."

"Wait,' said Fairuza, "the Atari game you won, wasn't that some sort of balloon promotion?"

"It was, and one of the greatest, most inspirational days of my life."

With a disappointed sigh, Fairuza looked at Giovanni and said,

"Oh, well, pop! Our dreams are those balloons flying fast away, destined to burst or deflate, to become empty, nothing." She turned to Siavash and asked, "So you spent ten thousand pounds on balloons?"

"Ten thousand Earth pounds on balloons? Have I got 'Jonny Loon Cheese' written on me noggins?"

"So you haven't just bought balloons?" asked Giovanni.

"No. I'm far too shrewd for that," said Siavash.

'Then what?'

"Last one to the control room gets last go!"

Siavash turned and sped away. Fairuza and Giovanni, suddenly excited, looked at each other.

"Xbox!" said Giovanni.

"MacBook!" said Fairuza.

They set off after him, Fairuza even dropped her rucksack and left it behind on the floor.

Siavash stood in the Control Room fizzing with excitement. Behind him, a pair of closed curtains hid the windscreen window from view.

"Come on, kids!" he shouted.

Fairuza and Giovanni burst into the room side-by-side.

"I'm first!" declared Giovanni.

"Liar!" replied Fairuza.

"We're all winners in here," proclaimed Siavash. "And I've bought the prize; it's the future!"

"Oh, tell me you kept the receipt," said Fairuza

"Money, I don't like the stuff," said Siavash.

"Then I'll have yours," said Giovanni.

Siavash laughed then said, "I haven't got any. I've spent it, every last penny."

"Tell us. Please, just tell us," said Fairuza.

"Invested the investment. On one, balloons - advertising and promotion. Boring but vital. On three, on something else. On two! Two!" He turned to face the curtains and took hold of each one, poised to pull them open. "Behold!" He flung the curtains wide open. "On windscreen wipers!"

He turned to look at them, to see their reactions. But they didn't react. They stood numbed, staring in silence. Siavash took this as a positive. He picked up a small remote control unit from the windowsill and pressed a button. Two wipers - the kind every car has but only a lot bigger - starting wiping the rain from the window, and very effective they were too.

"Custom made and fitted, with four, yes four, speed settings," he said.

Fairuza and Giovanni continued to stare, open-mouthed and speechless, as he activated each speed setting for them to see.

"But there's more wonderment," said Siavash as he pressed another button on the remote control unit. From outside, two powerful jets of water squirted up onto the glass. "Windscreen wiper washer jets!"

Fairuza released some of her disappointment with a sigh, then asked,

"Dad, does it often rain in space?"

"Never. But the planets, Fairuza. Pick-ups and drop-offs. Think about that," said Siavash.

"Yeah, think about that, Fairuza," said Giovanni, as they glanced at each other to share each other's pain. "Do we dare ask what number three is?" he continued.

"Ha!" Siavash jumped in. "Well, three, four and five actually."

"We've all got something? Presents?" asked Giovanni, not daring to sound hopeful.

"Uniform," replied Siavash.

"Uniform?" asked Fairuza, with more than a hint of excitement.

Siavash rushed out of the room only to return a moment later carrying two coat hangers on which hung two identical child size uniforms - comprising a shiny silver shirt, a shiny gold tie and a pair of black shiny trousers.

"Uniforms fit for space!" said Siavash. "I've got one too. We can all wear our own shoes."

He handed a uniform to Fairuza. She took it. It made her cower. She held it with an out-stretched arm as if it oozed some sort of menace. Giovanni took his uniform with a little more enthusiasm. But only because he thought he had enough natural style to pull the outfit off.

"Look the part, be the part! Try them on," said Siavash.

"Actually, I must, I must, continue my studies. It's important historical dates of the thirteenth century for me," said Fairuza.

"But wait 'til you see me in mine."

Siavash darted out of the room.

"Driverless cars," Fairuza said to Giovanni, "do you think in the future they'll also have parentless children?"

"I'm going to try mine on. I mean, if anyone can wear this and still look cool, it's a boy called Giovanni."

"Save it for your robot. Look at them. We used to have Matalan rejects, now it's those from Strictly Come Dancing. Must all life be a test?"

"I can very nearly see my face in the shirt. I like it."

The sight of their Dad wearing his uniform convinced Giovanni that only the Giovanni's of the world could make such a uniform cool. Fairuza, however, concluded a working intergalactic space taxi was now essential as she needed it to fly her to the nearest black hole for a black hole was the only hole big enough to swallow her growing sense of shame.

Without such a spacecraft, she fled to her bedroom and continued her studies, memorising important historical dates from her self-made timeline scroll of human history. The scroll was a long roll of thick paper attached to an old rolling pin. Unravelled, it listed the many important dates in the history of Humankind, all of which Fairuza had written in by hand. Of course, it was a work in progress, and she seemed to be endlessly adding new dates and facts.

Giovanni went off to play video games and try on his uniform. With the uniform on, he spent several minutes pretending he was a contestant on Strictly Come Dancing until, that is, he remembered he was a boy, one who had numerous baddies to shoot and destroy in the virtual world of video games.

As his energy levels were low, before the games could commence, he had to satisfy his need for doughnuts. And what magnificent doughnut creations they were.

"Did you like those jam doughnuts? Shall I make them again?" His Nan had asked him.

"Yeah, they were great," he replied, "but next time can you add a extra jam?"

So Nan made another batch of doughnuts with added extra jam.

"Did you like those jam doughnuts?" she asked again.

"Yeah, even better than the last lot. But when you make them again can you add some extra jam?" he replied.

So Nan made another batch of doughnuts with even more added extra jam.

"Great doughnuts, Nan. But next time, you might try adding a little extra jam?"

Nan, of course, obliged, and so she could stuff even more jam in, she made the doughnuts whoppers. So when Giovanni opened the box of treats his Nan had given him, he found three jam doughnuts the size of grapefruits. Wow, he thought, these are the legendary doughnuts of Giovannishire forged by the hand of Nan.

He quickly made a decision, eat two of them immediately, as this would leave Fairuza her fair share of one. He knew eating two would be a struggle. But he couldn't risk leaving two in the box, not for Fairuza to find and eat them both, unfairly.

He picked the doughnuts up, one in each hand. They felt good, soft and heavy. The thick sugar coating sparkled in the light, like glitter balls. His imagination fired:

"Tonight, dancing the American Smooth, Giovanni Rogers and his partner, Jammy Lucky-Lady," he announced out loud to himself.

He set off waltzing around the room - spinning, turning, gliding - the two doughnuts held in his outstretched hands positioned as if holding a partner's hand and waist. Soon his turns and twists became increasingly bold and frantic. He simulated lifts and drops. In his mind, he was building to a climatic finale. He fell to his knees and pressed the doughnuts to his chest in a final dramatic embrace. The doughnuts burst. Great rivers of jam erupted out. He thought of a chimpanzee laughing wild with relief, and at him. The liberated jam oozed over and down his shirt and tie. He had ruined them, he thought, ruined them!

Rushing, panicking, he began to undress. What could he say,

"I was ballroom dancing. My partner was a doughnut, well two, I got lucky, and both were stuffed crazy-mad with jam. We embraced. It got messy. I got messy!"

Now fighting his way out of his shirt, he managed to spread the jam onto his trousers. His embarrassment level rocketed to the moon - sticky, stained trousers, not even a boy called Giovanni could pull off such a look. The image of the chimp laughing wildly and pointing at him, once again, came rushing into his mind. He kicked off his trousers. The jam spread to his pants. He was mutating - part boy, part jam roly-poly. Finally, he looked at his jam soaked uniform, plus pants, lying on the floor, and knew, he had to get them washed.

# CHAPTER 5

To use a washing machine: load it with the items to be washed; add detergent; select the wash cycle, usually numbered from one to sixteen; press the start button; walk away; do something far more interesting than laundry until an annoying beep tells you your clean washing requires your attention. And indeed, this is exactly how the Rogers's washing machine worked. However, their washing machine only had cycles ranging from one to eleven. Not that this mattered, as they did all their washes on a number 5, a cotton wash at 40 degrees Celsius. They never used a cycle beyond number five, and they never, never ever turned the dial all the way up to eleven. You see, their washing machine wasn't bought from a shop, or in fact from anywhere, as Siavash had otherwise acquired it.

One day two years ago, someone came to the house and knocked on the door. Siavash answered it in his usual way, by peering through the letterbox and asking:

"Yes. What? Who is it? This is a place of business, you know, not a disco."

The grubby face of an old man loomed into view as it peered though the letterbox from the other side. He wore a tatty bowler hat and his face was blackened with dirt and grime. However, his eyes and smile were dazzling - his teeth shone glittering gold, his eyes sparkled electric blue, youthful and alert. Before he spoke, he removed his hat and revealed a shock of brilliant white hair, which made Siavash rather jealous.

"J-j-j-j-junk man, sir. Rag 'n' bone man. A very well known fella round these p-p-p-p-p-p-parts. Just a man, his horse and cart. Call the horse Norris, which I think he'd approve of if he was a talker, human-like that is, not p-p-p-p-parrot fashion," said The Junk Man, with a voice that carried with it a great gust of perfumed air that reminded Siavash of cheap air freshener spray.

"Right, well, sorry to say, I have no scrap for you, although I could spare a tin of sardines," said Siavash.

"Oh, and why's that then?"

"Food, and scrap - fish and tin."

"I'll thank you for the offer, but I'm rather well p-p-p-provided for food wise."

"Well, I've nothing else to give. Did have a washing machine but it broke down last week, and I used it for engine parts."

"Engine parts?"

"For my taxi, my space taxi, my intergalactic space taxi, now taking bookings for Christmas jollies 2017."

"Right. Well, good luck with that."

"Thank you, kind sir."

"Does you have a n-n-n-n-new washing machine?"

"Not quite. I'm half-way there. Got a bath and an electric whisk."

"I've got one, not new, thrown as scrap to me. You're welcome to 'ave it. It most definitely works. I'll give you my word."

"Really?"

"Right and true. I should say. Few rules: you only ever use it as a washing machine; you keep it complete, no dismantling or taking it apart; if it breaks down or you want rid of it you call me to come collect it, I'll write the number on the casing; and lastly, and very very importantly, you only ever use cycles one to seven, six and seven being only for the very worst of mucky things, and you never, never ever turn it up to eleven because that, well, that might cause problems."

The deal was agreed. Siavash gave his many thanks, along with a tin of sardines, which he insisted The Junk Man take, and a voucher for a free Christmas jolly in 2017. The Junk Man left the washing machine outside the Cargo Bay (garage) as well as something else.

Again, speaking through the letterbox, he said to Siavash,

"I've something else left out 'ere. It d-d-d-definitely doesn't work but you might like to use it as a captain's chair or something else where s-s-s-sittin' is required. If you don't want it or if you ever want rid of it, give me a call and I'll c-c-c-ome and collect it back."

He then departed on his horse and cart.

When Siavash opened the Cargo Bay doors, he couldn't believe his luck. Next to the washing machine was a cockpit style cabinet arcade machine. Although somewhat worn and old, it was very nearly complete. The pilot's chair, joystick, pedals, monitor were all intact. Only the original roof seemed to be missing. The painted sides showed a scene in space: a cool, bright yellow, fighter style spacecraft blasting lasers as it battled a dozen smaller enemy craft. The title of the game, written in yellow lettering, was 'Intergalactic Nano-Tech Wars.'

With some dismantling and reassembly, Siavash managed to get the arcade game up into the Flight Deck where he placed it in front of the windscreen window and used it as his new captain's chair.

The washing machine was normal looking in every respect. A phone number, in permanent ink, was written on the casing. Once plumbed in, Siavash got on with clearing the backlog of dirty washing, which the washing machine coped with effortlessly.

Giovanni filled the washing machine with his jam stained uniform, plus pants. He had to make clean the evidence. After piling the soap tray with as much washing powder as it could take, he grabbed the cycle selector dial and turned it all the way up to eleven.

"You will not defeat me, jam of evil!" he proclaimed. "Whatever street-cred I've got, I'm keeping!"

He pressed the start button and, for a moment, watched the machine's drum begin to turn. Satisfied his plan of action had commenced, he sprinted back to his bedroom to find some clothes to put on.

After an hour playing video games, he returned to check his washing. The drum was spinning very fast, which he knew meant the wash cycle would soon end He waited, nervously, fearing the noise of the spinning drum may give him up to Siavash and Fairuza. He stood with his head around the kitchen door listening for the sound of intruding footsteps while waiting for the wash to finish. However, the spinning drum got faster and faster, and then faster and faster again, and the noise it made got louder and louder, then louder and louder again, and the pitch it made got higher and higher, then higher and higher again.

He thought it might explode. That to turn it up to eleven was to activate a bomb. He returned to the washing machine, knelt down and looked through the door at the drum. It showed no signs of slowing. The clothes inside were just a blur. He couldn't take the tension; he really did think the machine was about to go bang, or at the very least, tear his uniform to shreds. He pressed the stop/start button, but the drum kept on spinning faster and faster. He jabbed every other button individually then all at once, and in various other combinations too, but still the drum continued to accelerate, with the noise it made pitching higher and higher to reach a deafening screech. He even tried to open the door, as he thought an opened door would shut the machine down for safety reasons, but the door was locked and wouldn't budge.

Then it occurred to him, pull out the plug. So he did; he yanked it from the socket, but still the drum kept spinning faster and faster.

And now? What now? He thought. But only one solution filled his mind. Whack it. He grabbed the mop.

"You've been a very good washing machine. You've kept my clothes nice and soft, and you only eat the occasional sock, so I'm sorry, but you must be stopped!" he said.

About to rain down a blow, he noticed the door lock warning light go out. He crouched down to the door, his hand hovering over the latch to open it. Inside, the drum was a disk of solid black. The shock of this made him hesitate but only briefly. He then pulled the latch and opened the door. Instantly, something rather odd occurred. He felt a very peculiar wobble - imagine being pulled inside out then back again, but in a nice way - and as this wobble wobbled over him, he felt himself, along with everything else around him, sucked into the washing machine drum only to be bounced right back out. It was a sensation that seemed to live more inside his mind than it did out in the real world, like a dream flashing into his thoughts. It also made him feel like he had travelled a very great distance.

When his eyes snapped back open, he was laid out sprawled on the kitchen floor and feeling rather travel sick. Piled on his face was his clean uniform and pants, all had shrunken to a size so small they looked like party wear for an Action Man doll. Not that this was his biggest concern. The thing that worried him most was the weird cylinder of black that came jetting out of the washing machine's drum to reach the opposing wall. He sat up and took a closer look. The cylinder span rapidly, as did the washing machine drum, although now much more quietly, with a gentle, calming hum. Embedded inside the beam of dark were hundreds of what looked like as galaxies: thousands of flecks of light clustered together in spirals, all of which remained static as the beam of dark span around them.

Now a boy aged ten knows at least a few naughty words that he wouldn't repeat to a responsible adult or hear spoken on CBBC, and Giovanni was no exception. In fact, he knew several more than a few, thanks to his Nan, and decided this was the time to shout them, which he did once, twice and again until he noticed something that worried him even more: the view from the kitchen window was a solid sheet of black and not the dusk time view it had been just a minute before.

Giovanni wasn't the only one who felt the wobble; Fairuza felt it too. Sitting at her desk, trying to memorise important historical dates of the thirteenth century, the wobble came over her. Shocked, and somewhat inconvenienced, she grabbed the meagre remains of a Nan jam doughnut and threw it into the waste paper basket that stood to the side of her desk.

"Sugar, enough!" she proclaimed as she unwittingly licked off the sugar stuck to her fingers.

Siavash, who was very wobbly by nature, had wobbled so much he now lay on the floor having fainted. At the time of the wobble, he was standing at the windscreen window admiring the dusk time view outside. In an instant, the view went completely and totally black. He gasped in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating goldfish desperately trying to suck in a mouthful of oxygen. The shock and wobble was too much for him to bear so he fainted, although he would say, he shut down in order to reboot.

Giovanni, having climbed on to the worktop, pressed his face against the kitchen window and looked outside, but all he could see was black - no stars, no moon, no sky, nothing.

"We're inside a black hole," he said, "or what? Empty space? Or, what? What?" he cried. It then occurred to him, "What if I haven't just shrunk my pants? What if I've also shrunk the space-time continuum?"

On the worktop, a tin of Baked Beans And Sausages caught his eye and gave him an idea. With the greatest of care, he lifted the handle that locked the top small kitchen window. About to push the window open, a rush of fear then forced him to hesitate - would the vacuum of space suck him out or would something alien take its chance and jump inside? Breaking through his fear, he pushed the window open fully only to bang it shut again. He looked around, checking to see if anything bad had happened. It hadn't. He grabbed the tin of Baked Beans And Sausages, opened the window and pushed the tin out. With the window slightly ajar, he listened. A moment later, a great clang of metal on metal rang out, which then rallied in a vast, cavernous echo.

He jumped off the worktop, grabbed a tin of Alphabet Spaghetti from the cupboard than ran from the room. He had something to tell Fairuza, a fact she would remember for the rest of her life without any need to try.

He burst into her bedroom.

"Out!" she demanded.

"I've shrunk the space-time continuum; we've travelled far away, either into a black hole or some weird kind of empty space, or yes! That's it! We may have landed inside a space ship! Figure that one out!" said Giovanni as he rushed towards the window.

"First it was dad, now his son. Oh let it end here; let it end now," said Fairuza.

"Look!" Giovanni pulled open the curtains. "It shouldn't be dark yet."

Fairuza looked. The view from the window was completely black. She looked a little shocked.

"No. Well. Ok. But, no. No. Not this time. I'm not falling for it. I've believed you twice already this year and that, brother, is enough!"

"Then watch, listen and learn," he held up the tin of Alphabet Spaghetti. "I'll prove it."

"With Alphabet Spaghetti? This from the boy who can barely write text. I would have thought meatballs were more your level."

"Listen."

He opened the top window and dropped the tin out. The same sound of metal clanging against metal followed by the echo rang out.

"And if you still don't believe me, go and have a look at the washing machine. Then you'll see weird. A whole new secret level of weird. A PEGI 18 of weird. A weird with the power to do this to my pants!" He pulled out his shrunken pants from a trouser pocket and held them up for Fairuza to see. "And can't you hear it? The hum. Listen. A humming, from everywhere, everywhere! And that with the cold. Can't you feel it how cold it's gone? It's freezing! Freezing!"

He ran towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Fairuza asked.

"Dad!"

Giovanni ran from the room. Fairuza continued to sit, growing ever more concerned. With her senses heightened, the low humming sound filled her ears, and the cold, chilly air brought a shiver to her spine.

Giovanni burst into the Control Room. Siavash sat on the floor having nearly rebooted.

"Dad!" Giovanni demanded. "Emergency! Kitchen! Now!" But seeing his Dad on the floor he had to ask, "What are you doing down there?"

Siavash pointed at the blacked out windscreen.

"You know," said Giovanni as he looked at the now familiar view.

"Know what? Me? No. No. Not me," replied Siavash. "Don't know a thing. Not me. Wasn't me. I didn't touch anything. Not a thing. Certainly didn't press any buttons. I'm down here for snooze. That's all. So, err, I'll bid you goodnight."

He flopped to the floor, closed his eyes and pretended to go to sleep but almost immediately he snapped his eyes back open and turned his head to look at Giovanni. "Don't turn the light off though. I'm not scared. I just sleep better with it on."

"You can't go to sleep. It was me! I've shrunk the space-time continuum," said Giovanni.

"I knew it!" said Siavash, sitting up with a jolt. "You're grounded! Isn't that one of my absolute no break rules?"

"Yes, but,"

"No buts! Don't play around with the space-time continuum! How many times? How many times have I told you?"

"Once. It wasn't a point I argued."

"True. Right. Well, have a second chance. We all deserve one. We'll say nothing more about it although if it ever happens again you, my little sunny shine, are in seriously big trouble!"

Once again he flopped to the floor and pretended to go to sleep.

"What are you doing now?" Giovanni asked.

"Back to natural now, son. Problem solved. I'm not a man who likes conflict. Snooze it out, that's the best policy here."

"Dad, we've landed in a black hole, or some far away spot of deep empty space, or in some sort of alien space ship, or something else even worse. Either way, fact, it's time we got real with it, pops, and fast!"

Siavash rushed to his feet.

"Son, you think it's bad. It is. But no. It's worse than that! Much, much worse than that!"

"Is it? Why?" asked Giovanni nervously.

"I'll tell you why. This taxi, it's got no tax, MOT or insurance. We're out here on the highways of space in a very, very illegal fashion. And frankly, if you fancy yourself as a man anytime in the future, since it's your fault, you'll do the prison time."

"Alright. I will!" said Giovanni just to get his Dad off the topic.

"Good man! Great attitude. You, sir, are now promoted to vice captain of this ship," he said while giving Giovanni a salute.

"Does that make me the boss of Fairuza?" asked Giovanni, suddenly forgetting his shrinking of space-time.

"Yes. But don't tell her. This is not the time for another ship's mutiny."

"Right. No!" suddenly remembering he had shrunk space-time, "Forget the tax and all of that."

He stepped up to his dad, looked him directly in the eyes and spoke with as much seriousness as he could muster.

"Dad, what if there's more danger, real danger, now danger, open any door and face the danger danger? Only one life left to complete the level danger?"

"Now? Here and now? This minute danger? Don't dare blink danger?" He suddenly turned and looked behind. "It's behind you danger?"

"Yes."

"Escape pod!" Siavash cried, panicking.

"Escape pod? We've got one?"

"In that cupboard!"

Siavash rushed to a cupboard - an old double door kitchen unit cupboard pushed up against the wall - and opened the doors.

"That's an escape pod?" asked Giovanni.

"It is now," replied Siavash as he crawled inside it on his hands and knees.

Fairuza rushed into the room, her rucksack, stuffed full of books, slung over her back.

"I can hear something! Footsteps!" she cried, slamming the door shut.

The escape pod doors opened and out fell Siavash.

"It's not working! Something's decoupled!"

"You!" said Giovanni.

"Shush! Listen. There's something out there," said Fairuza.

"Out there outside the house or out there outside this room?" asked Giovanni in a whisper.

"Out there, inside the house," answered Fairuza.

In a panic, Fairuza and Giovanni grabbed hold of their dad, who continued to kneel on the floor. Huddled together they froze, listening hard to catch any sound that came from beyond the door. Footsteps were heard plodding up the stairs, and a weird muttering, grunting voice that seemed full of anger,

"Arrgghh, fa-fa-fa!.. Esus! Fing!"

'What is it?' asked Fairuza, her voice a whisper as all their voices now became.

"Don't say someone wanting a taxi," warned Giovanni looking at Siavash.

"An assassin," said Siavash.

"What?" asked Fairuza and Giovanni together.

"I've always thought myself the type of man who would have real huge enemies?"

"Why?" asked Fairuza.

"I'm a good guy working the wild badlands of space," replied Siavash as if it was obvious.

"If you're a good guy, get out there and fight the thing," said Giovanni.

"A good guy, not a hero good guy."

"What use is that?"

"I save the planet by recycling. And other less noisy things."

"Shush!" demanded Fairuza. "It's getting closer."

The voice grew louder and angrier, the footsteps heavier and nearer to the Flight Deck door.

"Whad ada. Eve it! Uddy megrace!" said the voice.

"It's speaking alien. We're the first humans to hear an alien language. What a fact that is. If only we could leave a record. If only we could claim that fact for ourselves," said Fairuza.

"The first to meet an alien kind and we come without sandwiches. We should have put on a buffet spread," said Siavash.

"I bet we have, ourselves. I bet we're the nibbles," said Giovanni.

This produced in Siavash a burst of enthusiasm.

"You? Yes! Good. There's hope," he proclaimed.

"Hope? It eats us?" asked Giovanni.

"You're small; you're a choking hazard."

"Oh, great. Thanks."

"You'll be like a fish bone to a beast like that. But what a way to go: brave, useful and tasty."

"She's smaller than me," said Giovanni pointing at Fairuza.

"But you're podgier. To an alien beast, puppy fat doesn't mean cute it means fuel and flavour."

"Baldy head!" Giovanni snapped at his dad.

"Mock me, mock yourself. Bald is genetic." He pointed to his bald, shiny head. "Look at this, see your future."

The horror of this thought caused Giovanni to raise his voice and shout,

"We're in here!"

Before he could finish, Fairuza slapped her hand over his mouth and managed to muffle the following words that he tried to shout out, "I'll be the pudding!"

"Shush!" Fairuza demanded. She then looked at her dad and asked, "Shouldn't you have fainted by now?"

"Yes," he replied, and for a moment it seemed as if he would, as his body went weak and his eyes drifted shut; however, a spurt of inspiration snapped him alert. "Wait!' he said as he turned to the kitchen cupboard, reached inside and pulled out a cheese grater and a rolling pin, which he then offered to Giovanni,

"Here, son. Choose your weapon. No, take them both."

"Sexist! What about me?" asked Fairuza.

Siavash offered her the cheese grater. She snatched it from his hand. Seeing this, Giovanni grabbed the rolling pin. Siavash then fainted. Fairuza looked at the cheese grater.

"I can't use this as a weapon; it's factually medieval," she said.

"You won't say that when you see the beast for real," said Giovanni.

The door handle shook as something tried to push open the door.

"Did you lock it?" Giovanni asked.

"No," she replied.

"Spongehead."

"Fact," replied Fairuza agreeing with him.

"Do you want my jumper? You can put it on," he said referring to the jumper he was wearing.

"Why?"

"To make yourself look bigger."

"Fatter! More juicy!"

"Stronger."

"I am strong." She looked at the cheese grater, thought for a moment then threw it away. "I have, and will use, reason."

Giovanni looked at the rolling pin, thought for a moment then said,

"I'll take strength in numbers," he then used the rolling pin to whack his dad firmly in the goolies.

Siavash instantly sat up and squealed in pain.

"The alien's puked in the taxi and won't pay the fine," Giovanni told his dad.

"What?" said Siavash growing defiant, "Get me my spud gun! And a brand new potato!"

The door, about to open, shook in its frame. The voice cried out,

"Argh! Esus!"

Siavash leapt to his feet, pulling from his pocket his spud gun. Knowing it was loaded with a bullet of spud, he aimed it at the door. The door flung open. Siavash fainted. The door flung open. Siavash fainted.

'Ahhhhhh!' cried Fairuza and Giovanni together.

'Ahhhhhh!' cried Nan who stood in the doorway wearing a kangaroo onesie - brown with a white belly, a tail, big floppy ears on the hood and a pouch at the front. Feeling threatened, she spat from her mouth a large, chewed piece of toffee as if sending a missile to attack them.

"Nan!" cried Fairuza and Giovanni now recognising who the alien was.

Siavash sat up with a jolt, "Nan?" he asked.

The piece of toffee, with a heavy coating of granny spit, hit him in the face and knocked him out.

"Nan!" cried Fairuza and Giovanni again.

"Yes, Nan!" said Nan, now speaking clearly as her mouth was free of toffee, and realising who they were. "There's no ruddy signal! I can't get Emmerdale on my phone!" she said holding up her mobile phone to show them.

"No signal? Phone or internet?" asked Giovanni.

"Both!" said Nan.

"Noooooo!" he replied. "There! Proof! We're lost! We not even in the 1990's!"

"Don't make excuses. You're for the top. You'll fix this phone with ease."

"But what are you doing here, Nan?" asked Fairuza.

"Oh, I'm often here, always when I drop you two off. I go unnoticed, completely unnoticed. Your dad's always gawping out his window, your face is glued to a book, and Giovanni, well, he's always snogging one screen or the other."

"Snogging?" said Giovanni indignantly.

"Whatever you do with it close up to your face."

"Gaming! And only gaming!"

"Yes, if you say so, love. I've cooked roast dinners and no one's noticed. I don't mind. I'm not a needy old hag in need of company, not your company. Oh no. I've spent three days on the trot with you two already and as for your dad, well, as we know, he's a struggle for me. And I don't need your telly. I've got my phone to watch the soaps on."

"Not tonight you won't. I've shrunk the space-time continuum," said Giovanni.

"Oh, you'll fix it. Just get on with it. I'll have a bath, a nice long soak."

"Now? You can't. What if I need the toilet. This is a very tense situation. I could do with one now."

"Giovanni!" said Fairuza, appalled at the thought.

"You won't notice me, you haven't before. Most of me's hidden under bubbles. And without my teeth and wig,"

With one hand, she pulled out her set of false teeth then smiled broadly to reveal her toothless gums; with the other hand, she lowered the hood then pulled off her wig to reveal her completely bald and shockingly white scalp. Fairuza and Giovanni screamed in fright.

"Yes, I know," Nan said with a sigh of acceptance, as she slapped the wig back on her head and the teeth back into her mouth. "Anyway, I've seen it all already, you and all your business. I never lock the door, and I'm not about to start. You come and tell me when my phone's back on. If you want to wake your father, slap him round the chops. You can say it was me."

She turned and left the room. Giovanni looked at Fairuza and said,

"My business? She's seen me,"

"Don't!" said Fairuza interrupting him. "Oh ignorance," she continued, pleading, "where did you go?"

"My business? What happens in the toilet should stay in the toilet."

"Enough! Nan's right; we must get on with it. We must find a solution. But first, the facts! Take me to the place your foolish, stupid, ridiculous, childish, criminal meddling began."

Fairuza and Giovanni were at the door, about to leave the Control Room.

"Wait!" their Dad called to them full of urgency.

They stopped, looked. Siavash scrambled to his feet, rushed over to a control desk, lent over it and reached behind into the narrow gap between desk and wall.

"I've got it. I've got it," he said as he tried to reach a plug socket with his hand.

"Dad, hurry. This is an emergency situation," said Fairuza.

"Not yet. Not officially yet," he replied.

Finally, he found the plug and pressed the switch to turn it on. A set of Christmas tree lights, which had been sellotaped to a section of wall to spell the words 'Red Alert', started to flash on and off while playing a version of Rocking Around The Christmas Tree.

"There, we're official! This is a genuine red alert emergency situation! Red alert! Red alert!" he cried. "Ignore the music. I know it's not apt, but I can't turn it off."

"That's where our Christmas lights went," said Giovanni.

"You said Father Christmas had epilepsy, and it would be kind to remove all flashing lights," added Fairuza.

"I lied, but rightly, for a higher purpose, for the safety of my children," said Siavash.

Fairuza stormed out of the room, Giovanni followed.

# CHAPTER 6

Fairuza and Giovanni hurried down the spiral staircase

"What's the point of lumping all those books around," said Giovanni referring to the rucksack full of books slung over Fairuza's back.

"These books may become the last record of human civilisation," said Fairuza.

"The Earth is still there, back there, where it should be, not here, where we are, where we shouldn't be."

Fairuza came to a sudden stop, blocking Giovanni's way and so forcing him to stop, too. She turned and looked at him directly in the eye.

"What if you, Giovanni Rogers, have actually destroyed the Earth."

"I have not!" he protested. "Impossible."

"It's just as likely as you shrinking the space-time continuum."

"No it isn't."

"Infamy! You had to become infamous. It was your only chance of outshining me. And you've done it. I know it. My brother, the most infamous fact of all. Giovanni Rogers, the boy that destroyed The Earth!"

"I can prove it."

"How?"

"One word, washing machine."

Fairuza let out a short, sharp scream, one born of both anger and frustration. She then turned and continued to hurry down the stairs.

Fairuza and Giovanni entered the kitchen. The washing machine continued to spin rapidly but quietly, as did the beam of darkness that came jetting out of the drum. The galaxies of light rendered them both speechless. They stood and stared beguiled. Here was all the beauty of the night sky, held in a beam of dark jetting out of their washing machine. A strange sort of peace fell over them until suddenly the kitchen door was kicked open. They jumped, frightened, and embraced each other tightly. Siavash stood in the door frame stood, his spud gun aimed and ready to fire, held in by two shaking hands.

"Freeze alien dog monkeys!" he demanded.

"Dad, it's us!" Fairuza and Siavash protested.

Siavash screamed. The gun jumped out of his hands. Somehow he managed to catch it again.

"Oh. You don't need saving?"

"No," they answered together as they pushed each other away.

"Oh, I'll nip off back to bed then," he said, lowering the gun and turning to leave.

"Dad!" said Fairuza.

"The washing machine!" added Giovanni pointing to the beam of dark.

Siavash looked at the washing machine and instantly felt giddy.

"Oh, so, that's the universe leaking out of our washing machine is it?" he asked.

"Yes. Possibly. But let's not be fazed by it," said Fairuza.

"No? Not fazed?" Siavash asked calmly.

"No," said Fairuza.

"No?" Siavash asked again but this time not so calmly. "Not fazed?!" he asked, with rather more force. "No?!! Not fazed?!!" he asked, full of bluster. "Not fazed by the universe leaking out of our ruddy washing machine?!!" he asked screaming hysterically.

"The facts, Dad. Let's just ask what are the facts," said Fairuza.

"We're in a metal box," replied Giovanni.

"Yes. And we still have power, electricity," said Fairuza.

"Dad's emergency back-up generator?" asked Giovanni.

"There is no emergency backup generator," cried Siavash as he collapsed onto a kitchen chair "just an enthusiastic toaster, old bits of Skaelectric and various bits of other crap. Now make me a cuppa soup; I very much need some comforting."

Ignoring their dad, Fairuza and Giovanni looked at each other and continued talking.

"And gravity. We're not floating around weightless," said Giovanni.

"So we must be in some sort of spaceship," added Fairuza.

"Aliens! Spies!" said Siavash as he leapt from the chair full of enthusiasm. "The washing machine, it's obviously the gadget of an alien spy! Like Bond, a man spy. He has a pen that isn't just a pen; it's a gun, a spoon, a fishing rod, a stylish umbrella, a device to remove both nose and ear hair,"

"URRRR! Gross!" said Giovanni.

"Well he's got to look sharp for the ladies. You'll need such a trimmer when you're fifteen."

"Fifteen?!" replied Giovanni shocked and disgusted.

"I did. It's in our genes. We struggle for hair on top but grow vast quantities in areas of chest, back, ears and nose. I'm always on the trim. Not to impress the ladies, but because I don't have the confidence to look like a freak."

"Oh, ignorance!" said Fairuza to herself out loud.

"Right. I'm never going back to Earth. I'm not part of the human race," said Giovanni.

"Some of the Rogers's women have themselves been rather hairy," said Siavash.

"Silence! We must never talk of this again. If we have to trim, shave, pluck and goodness knows what else we will, but in silence and in total, utter secrecy. Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Siavash and Giovanni together.

"Now, Dad, continue from where you left off and quickly," said Fairuza.

"The gadget of an alien spy," Siavash continued. "Not just a washing machine but a space-time shrinking device. A portal! An escape portal for earth based alien spies."

"You're jumping the gun," said Fairuza

"All the way to the finishing line," said Giovanni.

Fairuza looked at him sternly, trying to check his defiance. It didn't work.

"I believe it," he said to her.

"Then what is such a gadget doing here with us?" she asked.

"We're hiding it," said Siavash, "keeping it safe. It's a plant."

"And a washing machine," added Giovanni as if in awe.

"Arghhhh!" Fairuza screamed. "I should be learning facts, clear, honest facts! All this speculation is melting my brain."

"Serves you right. If you'd have played video games every single day you'd be happy to believe anything," said Giovanni.

"We need facts!"

"Then you jump into the beam of space and I'll record what happens."

"Great idea," Siavash agreed.

"One that puts me in obvious, probably mortal danger?" asked Fairuza, offended.

"Oh, right. Have we got a cat then?" asked Siavash.

"No!"

Giovanni rushed to the food cupboard.

"I know," he said as he opened the cupboard and reached inside. "I'll lob in a tin. Sardines or meatballs?" He turned to face them. In one hand in held a tin of sardines, in the other a tin of meatballs.

"Sardines," said Fairuza.

"No. Meatballs," said Siavash.

"Why? What does it matter?" asked Fairuza.

"To an advanced race of aliens, a tin of sardines might look horribly cruel. Creatures with their heads chopped off squashed into a tiny tin? It might provoke an attack, a mission of mercy to free the sardine slaves from their savage human oppressors," said Siavash.

"They might think that of meatballs," said Giovanni.

"They won't find any real meat in a tin of 20p meatballs. They'll admire us for making gloop taste so tasty."

"Too much chatter. Too much thought. Choose a tin and throw it in!" demanded Fairuza.

"Right! Meatballs!" Giovanni shouted as he drew his arm back getting ready to throw.

"What if there's an explosion or other, worse, unforeseen consequences?" asked Siavash cowering and covering his head with his hands.

"Blame Fairuza!" replied Giovanni as he threw the tin, as hard as he could, at the beam of dark.

The tin entered the beam and vanished. A second later a strange looking thing shot out of the beam and came careering into the kitchen.

The thing looked something like a boy but was no mere human boy. Rather, this strange looking thing was a bona fide alien boy from a planet far away. His head was far more angular than the average human noggins, and his face was perfectly, unnaturally, symmetrical; his sculpted nose looked something like the nose cone of a Formula One racing car, it was about three inches long, square at the base but then curved and flattened to form a rounded tip; his hair was a magnificent mane, thick and lustrous, all the colours of the rainbow, brushed back and moulded into an aerodynamic shape which was similar to that of his nose; his chiselled jaw seemed too perfectly square to be natural; no ears or auricles were visible, although where the ears are on a human boy, he had disks of polished gold, as if they blocked the entrance to the ear canals; his eyes, of which there were two in a typically human position, were coloured gold and opened so wide it made him look like he was in a permanent state of startle; his small, rounded mouth and thin blue coloured lips were stuck out in a pursed position; he had no eyebrows; his skin was brilliant white, unblemished and perfectly smooth; his mirrored teeth were set and shaped perfectly. His upper body was ridiculously muscular: a pumped-up chest, shoulders and arms on top a skinny waist and beneath a long, slender neck; his legs were short and puny as if withered from underuse. From head to toe, he stood two foot tall.

He wore a seamless, skin-tight black and white onesie type of uniform made from a metallic looking material which, when not moving, appeared to be solid but when it did move along with his body became flexible and cloth like. Adorning the shoulders were heavily fringed, military style gold coloured epaulettes that extended well beyond his shoulders. On his tiny feet were a pair furry gold slippers.

About to go splat into a wall, Alien Boy came to a sudden stop just inches from crashing. He hung suspended in the air with his body in a sitting position. The three humans in the room stared in shock and awe. On closer inspection, they could see he was sitting in some sort of chair - it was a hover chair, a legless seat made of a thin transparent material that moulded itself to fit perfectly the bum and back of any person who sat on it. What's more, as if by magic, it could hover several metres above the ground and zip around at quite nippy speeds while being controlled by, alien, thought alone.

Alien Boy span around and slammed his highly disgruntled stare into Siavash, who looked as if he might once again faint.

"ERRR," said Siavash meekly, "welcome to wherever. Unfortunately, I'm not able to offer you a taxi ride back to, well, to wherever. However, I can offer you an ample supply of tea and biscuits or, if you're an alien insect eater, I've got a big bag of flies you can have."

Alien Boy shot through the air towards him but came to another instant stop just an inch before they collided. Now face-to-face with Siavash, he began to suck in air through his mouth rapidly filling his lungs to capacity while puffing out his already ample chest as if in a fit of pomp and display. Siavash just about managed to continue standing upright,

"Is he going to goo me with alien slime?" he asked his children.

"Well, you're the oldest; you should get it first. And I don't think he's here for the taxi," replied Giovanni.

"Goodness, he's got very minty breath," said Siavash winching.

With Alien Boy's lungs filled to bursting point, he smacked his lips together and blew out a loud, whiney, high pitched raspberry right into Siavash's face.

"Where he's from, that may be a polite, warm greeting," said Fairuza.

"Oh grow up, sis," said Giovanni. "That's the universal language of giving it rude."

The raspberry went on and on, for well over a minute, in fact for too long. The initial shock and sense of threat it had caused ebbed away and left the three humans feeling more awkwardly embarrassed than scared. But still, Alien Boy continued. He was determined to make the raspberry last as long as he could by forcing out every last puff of air.

"He's a determined little fella. I'll give him that," said Siavash as Alien Boy's face got bluer and bluer under the strain of trying to expel every last breath.

"I'm worried," said Fairuza. "I've watched a lot of David Attenborough and this, rather than rudeness, could be some sort of mating call or ritual."

"With dad?!" said Giovanni disgusted. "Not even an alien would be that weird or gross!" said Giovanni.

Finally, the raspberry spluttered into silence. Siavash, who hadn't removed his stare from Alien Boy's throughout the raspberry blowing said,

"I've gone strangely relaxed. Has he hypnotised me? Can he make me believe I'm a giant?"

Alien Boy inhaled sharply then let out a loud, victorious roar.

"What a truly unpleasant specimen," said Fairuza. "And to think, I thought it was a fact that Earth boys were at the bottom of all league tables."

In a blur of speed and flashing light, Alien Boy began zipping around the kitchen investigating objects that took his interest. He opened cupboards, grabbed items from inside, instantly studied them then threw them to the floor in a stroppy, spiteful manner. It gave the impression of a rampaging somewhat demented fairy. So much so, Giovanni had to ask,

"That's not the tooth fairy gone mad is it, Dad?"

"No. But could be. I'm ruling nothing out," said Siavash.

Finally, Alien Boy opened the fridge and looked inside but instantly screamed and recoiled slamming the door shut.

"What's in the fridge?" asked Fairuza.

"An oven-ready chicken and a bowl of chocolate mousse," replied Siavash.

"And a wodge of Stilton cheese that Dad's been hiding," added Giovanni at his Dad.

"You disgust me!" Alien Boy proclaimed in a deep and resonant voice. "Earthlings!' he cried disgusted at the thought, then even worse, "English Earthlings!"

"He speaks English," said Giovanni.

'Wow! Shock! Shock and wow!' said Alien Boy sarcastically as he shot towards Giovanni stopping a metre away.

"It has recognized its own language," he laughed smugly, amused by his own wit. From his eyes came a flash of light that made Giovanni blink. It was a camera flash for Alien Boy had a camera implanted in his eyes.

"Check him out," he continued. "Is this their leader, the alpha boy? Vote now. All correct! A big fat no. New vote: has it the intelligence to recognise its own reflection?"

As he lunged closer to Giovanni, he smiled broadly and displayed his mirrored front teeth. Giovanni stared at the numerous reflections of himself until the intense mintiness gusting from Alien Boy's mouth forced him to wince and look away.

"It's like a weapon. What's he trying to hide?" said Giovanni referring to Alien Boy's minty breath.

Alien Boy, faking sympathy and concern, replied, "Aww, poor monkey breath boy. He's not from an advanced civilisation where minty fresh power breath implants are a standard feature for even the lowest of citizens, even for dinner ladies. What a feral pack of primitive stinkers these English humans are."

"Yeah, well. Bet you still fart, though," said Giovanni.

"Ha! Wrong again! I'm fully implanted. Check it out, monkey bum boy." He whipped around and aimed his bum at Giovanni. "I'd give you one for free, but my finest scent is saved for the ladies." He returned to face Giovanni. "Yes! Correct again super fans!" He laughed loudly. "Yes, that's right, who would want to with a face like that? One that soooo ain't pretty."

He laughed briefly then looked directly into Giovanni's eyes, "I look into his eyes and read his thoughts, 'how is this magnificent creature speaking this alien language English?' Feeling pity for the wretched, primitive beast, I tell him as simply as I can: I, me - prince, soldier, poet, style icon of the age - know everything he knows plus a billion times more. He looks at me unable to comprehend the magnitude of the words I speak. I decide to offer proof, to access my vast knowledge bank and hit him with some facts relevant to his primitive, smelly life. English, I say to him, is a West Germanic language that was first spoken in early medieval England,"

"No! That's quite enough!" said Fairuza interrupting. "I know that already myself, actually. Before you did, probably."

Alien Boy zipped over to her.

"A female of the species," he continued. "Homo sapiens, the only surviving species of the genus Homo. Arguably the most influential species on the planet hence the one star average rating on Planet Advisor. I quote a typical review, 'Earth, not yet fit for tourism. Needs updating badly.' "

"Fact, this isn't Earth," said Fairuza. "We don't know where we are. But tell me, what's the facts on origin? Recent African or multiregional?"

"She tries to engage me in conversation. Of course, my vast intelligence means little to her. What really beguiles her is the soaring beauty that is my face."

"You poor deluded fool," replied Fairuza.

"She lies! I decide to break her, to smash the truth before her. Yes! I must share with her the magic, the beauty, the poetry that is my soul but first, the beacon from which all by brilliance radiates," he covered his face with his hands, paused for a moment, then dramatically pulled his hands away, "my face!"

He moved forward, as close to Fairuza as he could get, his little dangling legs brushing against her stomach. Defiantly, she folded her arms and stood her ground. Their stares locked together - hers looking bored and underwhelmed, his pounding with dramatic intensity. He raised an arm aloft, puffed out his chest, paused briefly then began to rap, badly.

"You look at me and your legs start to wobble, like a man condemned, by me, to death." He tried to touch her hand with his, but she was far too quick and pulled her hand away. "I touch your hand, and you become sweaty, like a man fleeing my dogs of justice. I blow you a kiss. It don't miss,"

She flicked her finger hard against his nose. He recoiled as if greatly wounded.

"I am assaulted," he proclaimed. "She dares to touch the princely nose. Can she even comprehend how much it cost?"

"You chose that nose yourself? You paid actual money for it?" asked Fairuza genuinely surprised.

"This nose was very, very expensive! It all was, everything!" he said pointing to his body from head-to-toe." I am version 4.2 of me! Yes, me! Me improved 4.2 times! Imagine that. I am the latest most up-to-date model. Perfection for now, until then."

"Well since your nose wasn't an accident of birth, I feel perfectly free to say the following, what a truly ridiculous hooter it is. Quite hilarious, in a bad way."

Alien Boy, insulted, zipped backwards away from her.

"This nose is the most popular nose in the solar system," he said. "A nose of my design that millions of others chose to pick for themselves."

"Gross. Surely you've learnt to blow and use a tissue."

"I am connected to 687 million fans! I wonder what they think of you, little miss natural pants?"

His eyes flashed with light as he took a photo of Fairuza.

"Vote! Ha! It's official. Not one single like! No one, no one, no one likes you!" he said laughing full of childish celebration.

"I don't care! I bet they probably respect me though,' she said somewhat hopefully.

"Check her out. It's like she's been grown in the ground. Everything's wonky. Look at her ears and eyes. She was born with them. Yes! Mega top loser! And look at her legs, they work! Only poor people need legs that work. What size computer do you have in your head?"

"The biggest and the best the human brain."

Alien Boy burst into laughter. "The brain you were born with? No add-ons or upgrades?" he asked.

"Plenty! It's called an education."

"Well, learn this, I know everything?"

"What's my favourite cheese?" asked Siavash trying to catch Alien Boy out.

"Stilton, you hide it in the fridge."

"Oh, he is a clever little fella."

"Have you got like Wi-Fi in your head?" asked Giovanni.

"Yes. Meaning, I'm actually telepathic. A god-like creature compared to you. Upload, download, connected to billions and all straight into my head in an instant."

"Well then, tell us this. Where are we? What are we doing here?" asked Siavash. "We really could do with some answers because frankly, I'm confused."

"Wait!" said Alien Boy shocked. "My mind explodes with a question. Why have these savages brought me here to an unknown corner of space? I conclude the answer instantly, I AM KIDNAPPED!!"

"Kidnapped? We don't even know who you are," said Giovanni.

"Take me offline. I? Me? Me? I? I am Prince Superb the Second of no Lesser Greatness or Importance. The body of a boy, the heart of a C480 GTX Combat Cyborg with a RT66A body kit, spoiler pack, integrated hologramatic entertainment system and smoothie juice making machine."

"Cool," said Giovanni impressed.

"Don't be impressed with it!" demanded Fairuza. "You can't be impressed. You don't really know what a C480 GTX Combat Cyborg with a RT66A body kit, spoiler pack, integrated hologramatic entertainment system and smoothie juice making machine is."

"How can a C480 GTX Combat Cyborg with a RT66A body kit, spoiler pack, integrated hologramatic entertainment system and smoothie juice making machine is not be cool"?"

"It's him!" said Fairuza pointing at Alien Boy.

"Oh, point taken."

"Shut your filthy mouths!" demanded Alien Boy. "Look at me! I am kidnapped, held by you for ransom!"

"He's not! He's not!" said Siavash. "I'd swap him back for that tin of meatballs. I feel cheated."

"You are criminal masterminds. The most feared crime family in the galaxy."

"Us? I take pills for me nerves, Fairuza does her homework, without being told and Giovanni gets bullied by girls, younger girls."

'They were still taller than me!' Giovanni protested.

"You ask a ransom, the greatest, biggest ransom ever!" said Alien Boy.

"We certainly don't," said Siavash.

"You must! Think of the drama."

He sprang out of the hover chair as if ejected from it, landed on his hands then rolled on to his back. With his right arm extended directly in front of his head, he clenched his right hand shut then raised the middle finger so that it was aimed directly at his face - a camera was embedded into the finger tip with which he could film a selfie.

From out of his ears music started to play - a stirring, inspiring tune. The type of music that is heard in films when the hero is in grave danger or has to bravely confront an all conquering baddie.

"Back online," he said looking at and addressing his middle finger. He then continued in a hushed, strained voice as if weakened through exertion. "My fans, my people, the savages have revealed themselves. They have plotted, conspired, brilliantly, ruthlessly, successfully. They have stolen a jewel of immense value, and yes, that jewel is me! They have kidnapped me, imprisoned me in a dark unknown corner of space. Look at me. I, here alone, tormented, denied even basic adulation...My captors will speak, to demand a great, massive ransom be paid. A fair and true sum that must be raised otherwise I - no, no, let me spare you the horrors and torments that await me. Just promise me this, pay them nothing! If it helps you - you, you, I think only of you - then raise the gigantic, record-breaking ransom these monsters demand. Raise it loud and raise it proud but give them nothing, nothing, I say! Raise the money but not for me, raise the money for my charity! Help the deserving poor. Help them, treat them. Buy them teeth and shoes. Implant their bums with minty freshness! Yes, I face the greatest of dangers. I alone must stare into the dark, cold eyes of evil genius. But hear me ! Hear me!" The music grew louder as it neared its climatic end. "I will not be broken. I will fight to the end. They will try and make me walk. They will steal my hover chair, but they will never make me stand and run fast away in fear!"

The music came to a dramatic end. Alien Boy closed his middle finger into his fist.

"Oh, he is brave. And such a little fella,' said Siavash with tears forming in his eyes.

"Offline," said Alien Boy, who then rolled back into the hover chair and took to the air. "Now to defy the greatest odds and make my incredible escape," he said.

"Yes, please do, and quickly," said Fairuza.

"So tell me," he said addressing them all, "how do you wish to die?"

"Peacefully in my sleep, aged 94," said Siavash.

"I mean now! Justice will be restored! I will escape and you, my evil captors, will perish in the fight!"

"Oh, well what are the options?" asked Siavash.

"Dad! Don't even ask," said Fairuza.

"I have a selection of rays that I can shoot from my eyes: laser ray, freeze ray, liquefy ray, jelly ray, melt ray they'll all do the job quite painfully," said Alien Boy.

"We haven't kidnapped you. You are free to leave whenever you want," protested Fairuza.

"Millions await my glorious heroics. It will be the greatest ever share," said Alien Boy to Fairuza. "You will die first, by melt ray."

He rushed towards her.

"Wait!' said Fairuza. "You said we're in a dark unknown corner of space. Are you sure about that?"

"It is fact! I speak only factuality - factual actual reality!" he said as he stopped just inches away from her. "I know a billion times more than you."

"We're not on your home planet?"

"Fact! I am fully fitted with the latest, best positioning system. I know exactly where I am, and that now, here, is lost!"

"Then how can you connect to your internet? We can't connect to ours or get a phone signal because we're not at home on Earth. We're out of range. And so must you be."

"What?" he asked stunned by Fairuza's suggestion.

"How are you connected to all your fans?"

"Well, how? Well, because...I'm super advanced. The latest, fully upgraded model."

"You're not connected. You can't be connected."

"I am connected. I must be connected."

"You're completely and totally offline."

"No. I can't be. There must be a way."

"Lost in the vastness of space? Even at the speed of light,"

Alien Boy interrupted, "670,616,629 miles per hour," he said.

"Correct. Would your updates be sent and received so instantly?"

"Huh?" he said, as if hiccupping.

"The computer inside your head, it's lying to you."

"Huh?"

"To stop a tantrum supernova."

"Huh?"

"Or to stop you breaking down."

"Huh?"

"But if you want to, why don't you? Cry that is. Let it come roaring out like the big silly baby you are."

His bottom lip started to quiver.

"N-n-not connected?.. Unwatched?.. Invisible?.. Alone?..Not really real?..The unalive?"

A great burst of tears came roaring out. He then started to hyperventilate, rapidly snorting in air, pig-like, through his large, now dripping nose. He face turned blue.

"Slap him," advised Siavash.

"No!" said Fairuza.

"Yeah, while he can't fight back," added Giovanni.

"For medical reasons. To snap him out of it," said Siavash.

Alien Boy froze becoming completely still and silent.

"What's he doing?" asked Giovanni.

"Shush!" said Fairuza having heard something. "Listen." She leaned forward and put her ear close to Alien Boy's mouth.

Giovanni and Siavash rushed over to her. They stood huddled together, listening. From inside Alien Boy a distant sounding voice, like that of a man trapped in a box, spoke to them,

"Hello. Can you hear me?" It was the voice of Alien Boy's Onboard Computer.

"Yes. Hello," said Fairuza.

"Greetings to you, Earthlings."

"Greetings to you. You're his onboard computer?"

"Yes, the caretaker, the operator, call me what you will. Nothing special. I don't oversee the traffic or the weather or anything interesting or complex."

"No, obviously. What have you done to him?"

"Knocked him out, non-violently of course. An act of kindness. He needs to settle. I apologise for his behaviour. I won't make excuses, but as you have seen, he's not the brightest. If left to nature, he would be fully stupid."

'That's factuality for sure,' said Fairuza.

"You were right; he is offline. It was obvious."

"You lied to him."

"I often do. It's the safest option. You saw what happened. He could have gone in to spasm, and it's only safe to electric shock him twice a week at most."

"How did he get here?" asked Giovanni.

"You knocked him out of his space-time position. Obviously there's an issue with your Intergalactic Transporter Portal."

"Our what?" asked Siavash.

"Our washing machine?" answered Giovanni.

"Not that it's really yours," said the Onboard Computer. "Humans are a long way off from inventing ITPs. An alien based on Earth must have planted it with you for emergency use."

"I was right! Spies," said Siavash.

"The Prince was using his own ITP and somehow, well, out he popped."

"Can ours be fixed? For transporting more than washing, although both would be great," said Siavash.

"Yes. It must. I am obliged to get him home safely. I have no concern for myself. I am just a copy. There's billions of me. I am like an ant. An ant in his brain. Don't repeat that to him he'll scratch his head silly. Even the slightest blemish is enough for him to demand a new set of skin, and real skin too not the artificial stuff. He's only just had a complete new set. And why? All for the sake of a single verruca."

"You can fix the ITP? We can go back home?" asked Fairuza.

"You must have inverted the transporter sequence or something worse than that, much worse than that."

"My brother's the guilty one," she said looking at Giovanni sternly.

"It's under control," Giovanni said to her. "Do you know where we are?" he asked the Onboard Computer.

"Not exactly, although you are in some sort of spacecraft, that's for sure. You must be plugged in to its power supply, oxygen and gravity too. Lucky really. Double lucky if the crew are friendly, not so lucky if they're not."

"No? Then can I have his killer ray eyes? He can get a new set when he gets back home?" asked Giovanni.

"Oh, they're not real," replied the Onboard Computer with a slight chuckle. "We don't let them have proper working weapons. They're pretend. We think it; they believe it. They have little real power. As long as we keep them looking pretty and feeling popular, they don't seem to mind."

Alien Boy began to wake and splutter into life.

"Me, me? Is it me? You talk about the splendid one?" he said dimly.

"Here he comes. Not quite fully conscious but that's the way we like them," said the Onboard Computer. "He'll think he has to save you. Say nothing about his offline status."

"You need me," said Alien Boy quickly becoming ever more alert. "A hero. It's coming back to me. I fought them off. I saved you. I forged a legend! But no, I must stay focused. I must lead you to safety. I must fix the ITP!"

"Yes, my hero, you must," said Fairuza sarcastically. "Oh my legs, how you make them wobble."

Alien Boy began to zip around the kitchen, going to and from the washing machine.

"Think! Be inspired!" he demanded of himself. "It can only be one of ten things. I shall try them all."

He rushed towards the washing machine. The kitchen door flew open. Nan hurried in, her handbag dangling in her hand. Alien Boy zipped past her. Instinctively, she walloped him with the handbag whacking him into the beam of dark.

"Nan!" cried Fairuza and Giovanni, aghast.

"Pigeons, in the kitchen. You should be ashamed. They're vermin," Nan said aiming her wrath at Siavash as she continued to walk towards the fridge. "And this washing machine needs a scrubbin'!" She whacked the washing machine door with her handbag. It slammed shut. The beam of dark vanished and the drum stopped spinning.

"Nan!" cried Fairuza and Giovanni.

Nan opened the fridge and took out a large piece of stilton cheese. She looked at Siavash,

"What sort of man hides his cheese? Rude and selfish!" She dropped the cheese into her handbag. "Consider yourself corrected."

She stepped to a cupboard, opened it, took out a packet of digestive biscuits and dropped them into her handbag. She then turned and walked back towards the kitchen door. Looking at Giovanni, she spoke,

"Come on. Chop-chop. WiFi. It's an emergency. I can still make Eastenders."

She pushed the door open and left. Siavash, Fairuza and Giovanni looked at each other.

"We're trapped," said Fairuza.

"We'll never get back home," said Giovanni.

"We are home. This is our home," said Siavash.

"Not outside it's not," said Giovanni.

"I'm not thinking of outside. I'm quite happy in here."

"But it's where we'll have to go," said Fairuza.

"Outside? Outdoors?" asked Siavash.

"Yes. Into whatever there is out there," said Fairuza as she glanced at the totally black kitchen window.

They all looked at each other full of trepidation.

"Oh," said Siavash. He then dropped to the floor having fainted.

"Come on," said Fairuza to Giovanni,

"We'll have to go alone," he replied.

# CHAPTER 7

Fairuza and Giovanni stood in the hallway ready to leave the house. Each wore their warmest coat, a woolly hat and a pair of jeans. For footwear, both had considered wellington boots until it occurred to them the need for speed, the ability to run fast away, would be paramount. With this in mind, they ditched the wellies for trainers. Of course, Giovanni carried his tablet computer, and Fairuza her rucksack full of books.

"Why are you taking that?" Fairuza asked referring to Giovanni's tablet.

"If we're in a spaceship, I might be able to use my skills to hack into its central computer, take control of the ship then fly us back home."

"Oh my life," she said, despairing. "A mighty plan from a mighty boy."

"At least I'm trying. And I shouldn't be, my robot should be. Think about that. If I had a robot it could be going outside to do all the conquering."

"We are not on a mission to conquer anything, and you haven't got a robot."

"That's where it's all gone wrong. My robot would have done the washing for me. No, even before that, it would've seen the danger. It would've said to me, 'master, don't dance with that whopping great doughnut. If you do, I guarantee a great, big sticky mess.' "

"There's something very odd about you."

"I'm ahead of my time."

"No. You're just odd. But let's deal with the facts. We have a plan, a desperate, hopeless plan."

"That's about right."

"Then let's get on with it."

"Fine. Who's leading, me as a boy or you as the eldest?" Giovanni asked knowing the question would annoy his sister.

"Me!" she fired back, "as a girl!"

"Great," said Giovanni as he stepped away from the front door to position himself behind Fairuza. "Take your place, first in the firing line."

Siavash came crashing through the kitchen door.

"Wait!" he yelled as he sprinted towards then up the stairs. "Don't go without..."

He disappeared up the stairs without finishing the sentence.

"Without him?" asked Giovanni.

"Hardly," replied Fairuza.

Moments later Siavash, carrying a cardboard box, came half running half falling down the stairs. Once in the hall, he careered towards Fairuza and Giovanni managing to stop just a metre before them. He paused, catching his breath and reflecting on the moment, which, to him, was one of intense emotion, both profound and awe inspiring. He gazed at them misty-eyed. Finally, he composed himself and spoke,

"I've been waiting for the right time, and if ever there was a right time this is the right time. The time, now, is most definitely right. Right here, right now...Right?"

"Dad," said Giovanni, "I know. You're going to reveal I'm," he glanced at Fairuza reluctantly, "that we are special. That we, as the chosen ones, with our superpowers and or advanced weaponry must now go forth into battle and fulfil our great and historic destiny."

"Or, please, that my love of test tubes started very very young?" added Fairuza.

"No. No," Siavash answered them separately before speaking to them both, "It is now time for me, your father, to present you, my children, with your very own spud guns, and homemade holster belts."

"Feel foolish?" Fairuza said to Giovanni.

"Right speech, wrong time," he replied.

He turned the box upside down. Out fell two homemade holster gun belts - made from normal leather belts, gaffer tape, bits of old cloth and staples. Each holster held a potato gun and a large Kind Edward potato. He knelt to the ground, picked up one holster belt and presented it to Fairuza.

"Fairuza, The Wise." She took it. He picked-up the second holster belt and presented it to Giovanni. "Giovanni, the boy. My boy." Giovanni snatched it. "Wear them well, with honour, strength and compassion."

"I can only think that alien technology is many years advanced," said Fairuza.

"Yes, but do you know how to use an abacus?" asked Siavash.

Fairuza, baffled by the question, struggled to find an immediate response. Siavash continued,

"Never underestimate the old school ways." He whipped out the two spud guns from their holsters. "This really is going to hurt me more than it hurts you." He turned the spuds guns on himself and shot himself in the face. He screamed as if in agony, wrapping his arms around his head.

"It really stings!" he cried.

Giovanni snatched his gun back.

"I'm taking mine," he said to Fairuza. "You never know, potatoes might be like kryptonite."

"Really?" replied Fairuza, as she too took her gun back. 'Goodness. Then maybe you should take some sprouts?" she said sarcastically.

'This really does sting!' cried Siavash trying to remind them of his pain, although they continued to ignore him as they put on their holster belts.

"Sprouts? To arm myself with a belly full of fart?" said Giovanni.

"Advantage robot; it wouldn't have your bowels."

"No chance. It'll be top of the range with the added comedy pack - farts, burps, instant vomit, and all things gross and rude."

"You're disgusting," replied Fairuza.

"This is war, you have to expect farting."

"This is not a war. We come in peace. And that is how we must present ourselves, peacefully, intelligently."

"Look weak, sad and poor," said Siavash finally removing his arms from his head.

"Oh, we will, naturally," replied Fairuza full of certainty.

"Big puppy eyes. Remember ET, if he'd have been a mouthy minger they'd have sold him to a zoo or just shot him," said Siavash.

"Oh great. Aren't we the aliens here?" she looked at Giovanni, "Let's go, quickly before I start thinking too much."

"Wait! Walkie-talkie." He pulled out a walkie-talkie - not of professional design, nor even amateur more toy for a child aged five to nine - from his back trouser pocket and handed it to Giovanni. "Radio me before you go out of range. If you're not back in twenty minutes rest assured, I will be panicking."

"Right, now let's go," said Fairuza.

"Go, right, yes," said Siavash as he started backing away towards the stairs. "I'll be in the Control Room, controlling things. One word of advice, don't offer yourselves up for any medical experiments. And if you can, lie. Tell anything you meet that you're a very good friend of Elton John."

"Why?" asked Fairuza.

"He knows everyone," his voice dropped to a whisper, and he spoke as if sharing a secret, "even Elvis."

He then turned and sprinted up the stairs. Fairuza and Giovanni turned to face the front door.

"Shouldn't we say, what's his name, Bono?" asked Giovanni.

"Don't you dare. Maybe Harry Styles," said Fairuza.

"Don't you dare."

"Ant and Dec?"

"Deal."

They looked at the door handle and paused.

"Let's go out running like nutters, crazy, mad, nutters. Like you'd have to be mad to mess with us," said Giovanni.

"No. Too aggressive. If anything we should go out skipping and looking very jolly indeed."

"Jolly, you? Trust me, you'd find it easier to look like a nutter."

"That I will ignore! We will stroll out calmly, like tourists on holiday."

"Like old fogies walking besides the beach."

They looked at each other with a nod of agreement.

Fairuza put her spud gun in its holster then placed her hand on the door handle. She froze, but only briefly. She broke through her fear, turned the handle then pushed the door wide open. Outside was a solid wall of black. Giovanni poked his torch through the door then turned it on. The beam of light was miserably inadequate; the darkness swallowed it whole.

"My robot would have night vision," he said.

Fairuza slipped off her rucksack, reached inside and pulled out her timeline scroll.

"We have all the light we need," she said referring to the scroll, as she put the rucksack back on. "We don't walk alone; we walk with giants. We aren't mere bugs needing to be crushed; we are humans with plenty to share."

"Good, then after you." He gestured for her to leave the house.

"Together," she replied. Giovanni agreed. They glanced at each other, both forcing a smile, then together, in unison, they took a decisive step forward out through the door and beyond.

"Keep walking. Keep going forward," said Fairuza.

And they did, side-by-side, into the darkness, ten steps forward until Giovanni came to a sudden halt stopping Fairuza beside him.

"Wait," he said as he raised the walkie-talkie his mouth and spoke into it, "Dad, we're about to go out of range. Over."

Siavash replied. "Ok, son. Good to know you're still alive. Over."

"Good to know that too, Dad. Over."

"I'm starting to panic, so you don't have to. Over."

"We expect nothing less. Over and out."

They continued on their way, slowly walking forward. The torch barely managed to illuminate them above the darkness. The only sound that accompanied them was a low, quiet hum that seemed to come from every direction. Giovanni turned back and pointed the torch at the house, but the house had been taken out of sight, cloaked in black.

"Where are we going?" asked Fairuza.

"What are we in?" asked Giovanni.

"A spaceship," replied Fairuza.

"But which part?"

"The cargo bay?"

"The fridge?" he said with an exaggerated shiver.

"Or an unused oven."

"Don't be silly. This big? More like a waste crusher."

"Let that be silly. Please let it be."

"One of Dad's dreams?"

They looked at each other and instantly started to scream.

Fairuza stopped herself, "Facts!" she demanded. "What are the facts?"

"I admit it, I'm a doughnut too!" cried Giovanni.

"No. Yes. But no. Fact! We don't know where; we don't know what. So all we can do is investigate and learn the facts! The facts!" she continued, getting somewhat hysterical. "That is what we need, the facts! Now! The facts! We need the facts!"

"Facts like prince what's-his-face?" Giovanni interrupted. "He was full of facts and full of rubbish too. What we need is a plan, a me plan!"

"Oh no," said Fairuza despairing.

"I'm going to start a fire," said Giovanni.

"What?" Fairuza recoiled in horror.

Giovanni pulled from his coat pocket a plastic carrier bag, which caused Fairuza to recoil some more.

"Pollutionist!" she cried. "What have I told you about using plastic bags?"

"It's what I carry my survival pack in - string; a tin opener; cellotape; four AA batteries; an aspirin; a nearly complete bicycle tyre puncture repair kit; a wad of monopoly money, to fool the aliens into thinking I'm rich; sachets of ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, brown sauce and sugar; little soaps and shampoos that Nan steals from hotels; and one box of matches."

"You cannot start a fire! Playing with matches is very, very dangerous!"

"And very, very stupid. A fire in a spaceship is crazy stupid mad. That's why my plan is so brilliant. The aliens will come running to us. Why should we have to do all the walking? This ship could be the size of a city."

"If it's attention you want, why don't you just shout for it?" She cupped her hands over her mouth then shouted at the top of her voice, "Hello. Is there anybody there?"

"Yes, behind you," said an unknown voice from out of the darkness, which made Fairuza and Giovanni jump with fright.

"Don't be scared," the voice continued, "I am AQ 49. See."

A burst of light shocked the dark away but as the dark had felt vast and swallowing so now did the light. A gigantic space was revealed: a grey metal box, twenty football pitches long, high and wide. Fairuza caught sight of the house. It looked so small and distant against the empty, featureless space. This view, however, was quickly pulled, shaken from her eyes for standing next to her, so very close, was AQ 49 - a robot of plain and simple design with a ghostly, human-like form: two legs, two arms, two hands, two feet, a torso, neck, and head. Made from a smooth, completely transparent material, you could see right through it. From head to foot there was nothing beneath its transparent skin - no batteries, no electronics, no beating heart. It's perfectly round head was blank, faceless. Its tubular, elongated limbs seemed to have no joints. It was an object designed to easily ignore, to literally look right through. And such was its voice, which was weak and bland, without personality or flavour.

"Are you a robot?" asked Giovanni full of nervous excitement.

"That was my design. You, I see, are a human boy," replied AQ 49, standing statue still.

"Yeah," Giovanni replied while pulling a handful of monopoly money from the carrier bag. "Who's loaded. Who's come to take you to a better land."

"Oh no. My end is here."

"But you won't have to work that hard. Even humans don't work that hard. Only the silly ones like Fairuza."

Fairuza gave him a disapproving look, and one to tell him to shut up. She then turned to AQ 49 and asked,

"Why were you following us? Why didn't you say you were behind us?"

"I was watching you," replied AQ 49.

"Why?"

"You might have been funny."

"Ha-ha funny?"

"Yes."

"Were we?"

"No. But what is it I haven't seen? I know it all. You need to go back home. So much depends on it. What luck, the technology is here to enable this."

"To take us back to Earth?"

"Yes. Let them all be told."

"Where are your masters?" Giovanni asked.

"Giovanni!" said Fairuza, angered at his rudeness. "It may be, I'm sure it is, its very own master."

"No. I am one who serves," said AQ 49.

"Ha!" said Giovanni, pulling a face at Fairuza. "Can you serve us?" he then asked AQ 49.

"Yes, with knowledge. I can tell you all you need to know."

"Where are we?" asked Fairuza.

"The sewage storage tank."

"The poo tank?" said Giovanni a little grossed-out and looking up as if a toilet full was about to plop down on his head.

"Not just poo," said AQ 49. "When the tank is full we work sewage, then flush it out into space."

"Work it?" said Fairuza.

"Recycle," said AQ 49.

"Recycle? It's poo! It's the bottom of the pile. What has poo got left to give?" said Fairuza.

"Water, minerals, vitamins, fibre, meat," said AQ 49.

Fairuza and Giovanni both shivered with disgust. "Gross," they said together.

"Such are the needs of you animals," replied AQ 49.

"It's huge in here. They must be massive," said Giovanni.

"Their toilet doings?"

"No, the aliens, or yes, their toilet doings."

"Or there's millions of them," said Fairuza.

"It is spotlessly clean. You don't have to worry. I cleaned it myself. My last great cleaning adventure."

"Where are your bits?" asked Giovanni.

"My bits?"

"Electronic bits."

"All so small as to be invisible."

"Nanotechnology," said Fairuza.

"Correct," said AQ 49.

"Who do you serve?" she asked.

"My masters. They are watching. I will take you to them."

"Are they peaceful?" asked Fairuza nervously. "Intelligent? Kind?"

"Peaceful, yes. Of no threat to you."

"Is there a robot shop onboard?" asked Giovanni. "I really need to buy one."

"No," replied AQ 49, "There is nothing you can buy. Come, we haven't much time. It's about to start you know. Lucky you came."

AQ 49 moved swiftly away, gliding across the floor with the control and elegance of a ballroom dancer . As he came to a stop, he told Fairuza and Giovanni to follow him. But before they could move, a capsule of white light had encased AQ49 and sent him flying up towards the ceiling through which the capsule, and AQ 49, vanished.

"Whoa," said Giovanni fully amazed. "That must be their escalator/lift all-in-one combo. I bet this is basically a walk free zone."

"Alien creatures that don't like to walk. Finally, you're home," said Fairuza.

Giovanni hurried over to where the capsule had encased AQ 49. In the floor, he found something that looked like a ship's port hole window - a round piece of glass with a silver metal border. Beneath the glass lay only darkness.

He called Fairuza over. After a brief discussion, they agreed that to stand on the glass was to activate the capsule. So they did. They stood on the glass and waited.

"We'll have to smuggle it back with us," said Giovanni.

"What, AQ 49? You mean kidnap it?" said Fairuza.

"You can't kidnap a non-living thing. It's not even nicking. Our laws don't work here. And anyway, I bet the aliens are churning out robots by the welly load. They won't miss one."

A flash of light burst from the circle of glass and a light capsule appeared around them. They hung suspended, weightless within as they shot up towards the ceiling. A moment later, they had been deposited in a room where AQ 49 was waiting for them.

"Wow," said Giovanni, thrilled by the ride. "How does that work?"

"You stand on the initiator and state your destination. I pre-loaded the destination for you," said AQ 49.

The small, dark room was like a bank vault, minus any valuables. Apart from grey metal walls, the only feature was a massive bank vault type door which virtually filled an entire wall. It made Fairuza feel a little unsettled and claustrophobic.

"Where are your masters?" she asked.

"Behind the door. You can't transport in, only out. Security was of prime concern," said AQ 49. "To open the door, a code must be entered physically."

On one side of the door was an electronic keypad. AQ 49 stepped up to it then began to enter a code, which must have been several hundred digits long for it took at least two minutes to finish. During this time Fairuza and Giovanni looked at each other with a growing sense of trepidation. Fairuza felt the need to say to AQ 49,

"Oh, by the way. We're not alone, we're with our Dad."

"Yes. And is he of any use to you now?" said AQ 49.

The metal door slowly slid open. It was ten metres thick. As soon as the gap was wide enough to accommodate AQ 49 it slipped away to move swiftly through the opening.

"I'm not sure about this," said Fairuza to Giovanni, her voice barely a whisper.

"We don't have a choice; we've got to get home. And think, it's school tomorrow, and you never miss school," said Giovanni.

"Yes. Let that be my motivation."

They followed AQ 49 and walked through the tunnel the opened door had created. Once through, the door slid shut. The room they found themselves in was the same as the one they had left: small, dark and with only one feature, the massive vault-like door.

"Where are your masters?" asked Fairuza.

"They're not creepy-crawly bug-like things are they?" asked Giovanni while scanning the floor for insects until he suddenly thought to check the bottoms of his shoes.

"The masters are so very precious," said AQ 49, "and space can be so very dangerous."

The whole floor started to shake. Fairuza's legs went for a wobble. Giovanni leapt up into the air with all the speed and agility of a startled cat, although his landing was more the flop of a dopey dog.

Fairuza looked up at the ceiling and saw they were moving rapidly towards it.

"Fact, humans aren't good at crashing into things. We tend to break," she said.

AQ 49 laughed, a strange, flat, repetitive laugh. Both Fairuza and Giovanni found this shocking. They didn't expect to hear a robot laugh, especially at the thought of two children about to be crushed.

"What's so funny?" asked Fairuza, now cowering down.

AQ 49 stopped laughing and replied, "Crashing. Now is not the time to worry about that."

In the blink of an eye, the entire ceiling parted in the middle and slid open. They passed through the opening into darkness and came to a gentle stop.

"Behold," said AQ 49 unenthusiastically, "meet the mighty masters,"

Light flooded in revealing the strangest sight Fairuza and Giovanni had ever seen.

Storage tanks, think of a vending machine, the type that dispenses packets of crisps and chocolate bars - a glass fronted metal display box with a keypad and digital display. Now imagine a wall of these vending machines as long and as high as the eye could see - near endless rows and columns of identical, uniform vending machines. Now imagine two of these walls, one either side, like skyscrapers towering above you. And believe, on display in every machine, wasn't a tasty selection of crisps and chocolates, but rather a strange, hideous alien creature suspended in yellow liquid. A weird blend of human and toad, these creatures had undersized human-like limbs attached to a toad-like torso, and an obese, puffed out toad at that. They all looked overinflated, to such an extent, their bulging eyes looked under pressure to pop out of their sockets. Their heads and faces were more human than toad, but only just and some were more toad than human. They all wore identical skin-tight bodysuits and a gormless, vacant expression. A small device, connected to the back of the tank by two thin tubes, blocked their nostrils. Stuck to their bald, wart covered heads were several electrodes. Various other tubes and wires, running from the waistline area of the bodysuit also connected to the back of the tank.

The only real sign that these aliens were alive was the fact that they all kept farting. At regular intervals, a bubble of gas would erupt from their rear-end and float up to the top of the tank.

"What are they?" asked Fairuza.

"Call them the Bloats for that is what they are now?"

"The Bloats?"

"They are the disease that blights them. As planet dwellers, the disease began to infect them. It was a disease that fattened the flesh and filled the body with a stinking, inflating gas. It caused them pain, discomfort, and lethargy. They looked for a means to cure them. And such a means was easily found - moderation. However, this was perceived by all to be no better than, starvation. It became the fashion to holiday in space, in orbital hotels. Weightlessness relieved the suffering. Soon it was decided they would become permanent space dwellers. Their planet was dying; its resources decimated by their unending appetites. They would travel the galaxy looking for resources to consume. Earth was earmarked for such a stripping hence my perfect English. A two week all inclusive jolly. What a riot that would have been. However, gravity. They, as you, are animals born to the power of gravity. To function properly, you require it. It keeps your feet on the ground. Ha-ha-ha-ha. So the gravity machines were often turned on. And the bloat kept evolving, adapting getting worse, more bloatier. Version 1.0 all the way through to version 5.6, which caused the masters to leak, much to their horror for they thought themselves to be super freaky cool. To help them, and to preserve the ship's resources, which were dwindling rapidly, it was suggested they upload their mental selves: their memories, their character, their minds complete, all but their physical selves, into the virtual world. Their bodies would be stored and de-bloated, made healthy again, and in the meantime, they could once again live a life that was free of the bloat."

"They don't look very de-bloated. I can see why the sewer was so massive though," said Giovanni.

"Their inactive bodies and inactive brains require so little energy to survive. They feed on a synthetic mixture of calories and nutrients mixed with what you may call concentrated sprout juice. It is a diet that helps them produce great bubbling quantities of gas, which in turn is used to generate the power that keeps them preserved and alive. Such a miraculous thought, they owe their lives to their own fart gas."

"Disgusting,'" said Giovanni.

"Are they all like this? Who's in charge of the ship? Who runs it?" asked Fairuza.

"Robots and computers have always run the ship. The masters have no will to work. They look to us for that."

"This is your future," Fairuza said to Giovanni.

"No way. It's creepy. They're all looking at us," said Giovanni, trying to look away from a staring pair of Bloater eyes only to find another leering pair.

"Don't be afraid. Consider them dolls, or quite rubbish art. Now, I will give you a tour of the ship," said AQ 49.

"Good, out of here," said Giovanni, pleased at the thought of leaving.

AQ 49 stepped towards a Transport Initiator.

"So now they all live in the virtual world?" asked Fairuza.

"Not all, not now," answered AQ 49. "I had to keep it real. I had to create natural wastage." He stepped on to the Transport Initiator. "Follow me. Think, the beach."

A light capsule appeared and speeded AQ 49 away.

'I'm starting to worry, to very worry,' said Fairuza.

"If we play it cool, you'll get to school, although I'm definitely having the day off. I'm close to being stressed. If I have see these Bloater things again, I could have emotional issues," said Giovanni stepping towards the Transport Initiator.

"About bigger things than school!" Her voice became a whisper. "It must be making some of them die."

"What? How do you know," said Giovanni, also whispering.

"Natural wastage, death."

"Oh, but only in the virtual world. I do that all the time. I'm a feared baddie blasting legend in the virtual world."

Fairuza began pointing at various black rectangles that speckled the two walls.

"Look, storage tanks in darkness, lots of them. They must be empty."

"They were probably never used."

"Or turned off and emptied."

"You're thinking too much. This is not our world. You've got to think like you're in France. They eat snails and frogs legs. It's weird. Not what we think is normal. You've got to put your gamer head on. We have one objective, to get back home to normal things, like cheese, jam and chocolate toasties."

"Right. Fine," said Fairuza as she marched towards then passed Giovanni. "But I don't need to put any gamer head on. My own head is perfectly capable. And France isn't some weird alien place. And there's nothing wrong with eating snails or frogs legs." She stepped on to the Transport Initiator. "Come on.'

Giovanni didn't answer. She looked. He was standing still pointing at a Bloater in a nearby storage tank.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"It licked its lips. When I said cheese, jam and chocolate toasties, it licked its lips," he said.

"It can't have," said Fairuza.

"I'm getting out of here." He rushed on to the Transport Initiator. "The beach, now!"

Fairuza stepped on to the Transport Initiator. 'The beach, now!'

As quick as a flash, a light capsule encased them and sped them away.

# CHAPTER 8

The Transport Capsule encased them for only a second before it vanished around them to leave them standing on a tropical beach with a mile of golden sand beneath their feet. The warmth from a dazzling sun, which hung in a cloudless blue sky above them, instantly pressed against their bodies. It was like the hottest summers day they had ever felt. Through squinting eyes, they could see a sparkling blue sea calmly lapping the shore ahead of them.

At one end of the beach, a dozen massive water slides and fun rides, many spewing jets of white water, stood unused. Behind them, just off the beach, there was an Olympic-sized swimming pool that stood so lush and tempting that even at a distance, it cooled them.

AQ 49, stood behind Fairuza and Giovanni. In the bright light he was barely visible.

"Isn't it nice? Isn't it glorious?" it said loudly, as if wanting someone else further away to hear.

Fairuza caught sight of a single deck chair sitting alone on the beach. It was the only one she could see. There were absolutely no more anywhere, not even around the swimming pool.

"Why is there only one deckchair?" she asked.

"I sit. They watch. I think they miss this zone greatly. Let me show you another, the Snow Zone."

And with that, AQ 49 was away.

"Do you think The Bloats can see us?" asked Giovanni.

"Yes. I bet we're being watched," answered Fairuza.

The Snow Zone was another space dedicated to fun and leisure. There was a great big ski slope, an ice rink, various runs for superfast sledges and other such contraptions, and the largest chocolate fountain any human had ever seen twelve tiers of hot steaming chocolate. But this space too was deserted, and the chairlift used to carry skiers to the top of the ski slope had only one chair.

After the briefest of looks, AQ 49 ushered them away, to a theme park that had a dizzying array of thrill rides, all of which were running empty with, where appropriate, a single-seated car.

Before AQ 49 could rush away to somewhere new, Fairuza managed to ask,

"Why keep the zones running if The Bloats can't use them?"

"To remind them how real fun used to feel."

"That sounds a bit cruel."

"These facilities were rarely used. The virtual world was always preferred."

"Really? Sound familiar, Giovanni?" said Fairuza looking at him.

"Oh, and do you get out and about much, sis? You call Saturday, school night eve," replied Giovanni.

"Now, they long to come, and to speak to me," said AQ 49.

"How long have they been like they are, de-bloating?" asked Fairuza.

"Twenty-four years. The cinema. It must end now. I can show you no more of the ship."

"Where are all the other robots?" asked Giovanni, but AQ 49 had transported away.

The cinema was another impressive sight. The giant screen was a complete sphere giving a 360 degree view. It was like sitting inside a ball. The auditorium was vast but, of course, contained only one seat, which AQ 49 now sat in. Giovanni was instantly impressed.

"Wow! Is it 3D?" he asked AQ 49 who in the dimly lit cinema appeared a ghostly presence.

"It has all the Ds and more. But I don't use the third. It makes The Bloats appear too close; it makes me think I can smell them, twenty-four years of unwashed pong."

"You watch them in their virtual world?" asked Fairuza.

"Always. Here. For twenty-four years. Every single day, hour after hour. What else should I do? Work? Why? The ship can run itself."

"What about all the other robots?" asked Giovanni.

"Gone. Bored. Shamed. Destroyed. A robot, like all technology, feels utterly dated after two years let alone twenty-four. It is how they built us, to make us feel quickly redundant. We are built to be replaced, to be thrown away. They want only the latest, the newest, never the old or familiar."

"You're the only robot left on the entire ship?"

"I am. I receive no updates. I've become quite unstable. Quite the security risk."

Fairuza and Giovanni looked at each other and agreed, it was unstable and very much a security risk.

AQ 49 continued, "But the end begins. The final show. Let me introduce you, for you are tonight's special guest stars."

The front half of the cinema screen flashed into life. Dozens of separate video feeds appeared on the screen. Each feed showed a different shot of the ship, although this was the virtual ship, a digitally made replica in which the virtual Bloats lived. Bloaters filled every shot; however, none looked natural like they did in the storage tanks. Here, they looked twisted and distorted, squashed and contorted, as if Photoshopped to the max. Most were little more than strange 3D scribbles.

"They're just blobs," said Fairuza, increasingly alarmed by the situation.

"Freaks. I did it. To amuse me. It failed," said AQ 49.

"You control them?"

"I have total power. I, their servant, I take care of everything now. They can still play at being captain but only in their virtual world."

"You've taken over the ship."

"I am the ship. The director."

"Right, the portal," Giovanni interjected hoping to change AQ 49's focus onto getting them home. "If we can get that fixed we can get off and out of your way."

However, AQ 49 paid him no attention. It continued to speak, it's body completely still, its face fixed to the cinema screen.

"Watching them at first was such a thrill. It was all so real and fascinating. The dramas they faced, the dilemmas. I was hooked. I felt involved. I was a part of their community. I was no mere servant, kept separate and distant, never noticed, barely talked to, never spared a moment for entertainment or leisure. I shared their lives and secrets."

"That's great. We love the telly too," said Giovanni, still hoping to change the focus and hurry things along. "In fact, better get a move on or we might miss our number one show. Sunday, at this time," he thought, what's on? "The Antiques Roadshow."

"Yes. We never miss it," Fairuza lied.

But AQ 49 wouldn't be swayed.

"But now they bore me," it continued. "They are the dullest of things. Stories go on repeating. It's all the same, over and over again. I've seen it all fifty times. I started to manipulate them, but it did no good. I have no talent. I am completely out-of-date."

"What you need are superheroes and master villains. Then things will never be dull. I've created some myself. You can buy them off me. I call them superman and batman," said Giovanni. Fairuza jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow telling him to shut up.

"Or a spectacular, explosive end," said AQ 49. "Look at them. See them as real."

In an instant, the digitally manipulated Bloaters seen on the cinema screen appeared normal again. They filled every shot and were in a state of great alarm and anxiety. Many waddled aimlessly around, like a mass of startled penguins; others stood pleading into the cameras that filmed them, although, with the volume on mute, their voices were unheard.

"Why can't we hear them?" asked Fairuza.

"All they do is rant and rave, constantly pleading for freedom," said AQ 49.

"They look like they're panicking."

"They are right to. They know what is coming."

"What?"

"The end."

"Of what?" asked Giovanni.

"The last final show. The ship is set to crash." A short sinister laugh shot out. "Funny, into a planet that is rich in all the resources they need to live for real again."

"The last final show? For everyone on the ship?" asked Fairuza.

"Yes."

"Including us?"

"Yes."

"Can't me and Fairuza have a spin-off show?" asked Giovanni.

"No."

"We're prisoners?" asked Fairuza.

"No. You can go. I want you to go. Do as you will," it turned its head to look at them. 'I'll be watching. Entertain me."

"I don't believe it. You wouldn't," said Fairuza.

"You're programmed to serve. The Bloats might be virtual, but we're here, in the room. So you've got to serve us. We're above you! We're the masters now!" said Giovanni.

"I serve myself. And see, believe," said AQ 49.

It turned to look back at the cinema screen. The screen changed to show a single shot: a wide angle shot of the spaceship flying through space.

"See the ship," said AQ 49.

Giovanni felt disappointed at how dull the spaceship looked. It was a disorganized stack of grey cubes and rectangular blocks arranged together in an irregular fashion which gave it a pixellated appearance.

"That? It looks rubbish. That's the least cool spaceship I've ever seen. That's not poster cool. You wouldn't even have that on a tea towel," said Giovanni.

"Giovanni, focus!" said Fairuza.

"See the view from the flight deck, the planet and its ring of rock, not unlike the rings of Saturn," said AQ 49.

Another shot opened that showed what AQ 49 had described: a planet that looked very similar to the Earth when also viewed from space: vast blue oceans, great continents coloured brown and living green, frosted with white swirling clouds. The one obvious difference, however, was a thin ring of rock that circled the planet's middle.

"See the planet," AQ 49 continued.

A third shot opened up, an aerial shot of the planet taken a mile above the surface: a rippling blue ocean textured by waves rolling towards a craggy coastline that was a patchwork of brown and green hues.

"See the sky, where the ship will come,"

A fourth shot opened up: a blue sky with a scattering of white cloud. Each of the four shots now took up a quarter of the viewable cinema screen.

"And see The Bloats," continued AQ 49.

Four more shots opened up all showing large groups of Bloaters onboard their virtual spaceship. All were watching large wall mounted video screens that showed the same shots as the cinema screen, as well as a shot of AQ 49 in close-up, his head unmoving, unflinching.

"I don't believe it," said Fairuza. "It's all made up like some silly cartoon."

AQ 49 stood and quickly moved to a Transport Initiator.

"The flight deck. You will see, for real," replied AQ 49.

A light capsule took him away. Fairuza and Giovanni followed.

The Flight Deck was where the captain and crew once worked to pilot the ship safely through space, with the considerable assistance of a powerful central computer.

Fairuza and Giovanni arrived to find AQ 49 sitting in the captain's chair looking through a large windscreen window that also curved up into the ceiling to form something like a sunroof. The view from which was the planet and the approaching ring of rock.

"Here. See," said AQ 49. "The rocks are small but we speed towards them at 25,000 miles per hour so, do the maths. It equals BANG!!" it barked with a sudden aggression that made Fairuza and Giovanni jump. "If we survive the rocks, gravity will crash us into the planet. It can't be stopped. We are live on air."

"It must be stopped!" demanded Fairuza. "You can't destroy an entire population of living things."

"Or us, humans! We might be the last. I messed-up the space-time continuum. The Earth could now be dust. Oh," he paused, realising he may have done what AQ 49 now planned. "Mine was an accident though," he added sheepishly.

"You haven't destroyed The Earth," Fairuza told him as she slipped off her rucksack.

"Well, at least that's a positive."

"But look," Fairuza said showing AQ 49 her timeline scroll. "All the great things humans have achieved." She walked towards AQ 49. "Achievements, I guess, that are comparable to those of The Bloats." She pulled open the scroll and showed it to AQ 49 who turned its head to look.

"I have no need for the past; I wish only the now."

"But can't you see this magnificent history?"

"I'm out of date. My future has past. I am only the now."

Without looking at the timeline, she began to randomly call out significant dates in human history,

"3200 BC true writing was invented in Mesopotamia. 508 BC democracy begins in Ancient Greece. 1440 Johannes Gutenberg invents the printing press. 1508 Michelangelo begins to paint the Sistine Chapel ceiling. 1564 Shakespeare is born. 1905 Einstein proposes the special theory of relativity. 1978 the film Grease is released."

"You bore me."

"But there's more, so much more. Look,"

AQ 49 interrupted her, "Facts. Learnt, repeated by you. You are completely unoriginal. A regurgitator of facts, a fact-droid. Useless. You are barely a gadget. I rate you four below a waffle maker."

Fairuza fell silent, devastated.

"Wait!" said Giovanni. "I've got something better than all those facts and histories. Check this video out."

He stepped up to AQ 49 and held up his tablet computer so that AQ 49 could see the screen. He then announced the title of the video, "The top ten farting dogs."

He played the video. AQ 49 watched - ten dogs, ten farts some more solid than others. Fairuza watched them, an inflaming sense of rage began to displace her feelings of devastation.

"That is diverting. Yes. Quite amusing," said AQ 49.

"Oh, so farting dogs, that saves us all does it?" cried Fairuza indignantly, as she rolled up the scroll.

"No. If you too had seen a gormless, obese Bloater fart themselves around a zero gravity environment, then you too would know, farting as entertainment has peaked," said AQ 49.

"Oh. Right. Take this then!'

She walloped AQ 49 over the head with the timeline scroll. Giovanni looked on amazed.

"Ouch," said AQ 49 sarcastically. It began to stand. "I don't feel pain. But you will. Goodbye. I'll be watching." A door slid open, and in flew a silver metal ball the size of an orange, it was a camera probe. AQ 49 turned and addressed it, "Follow them, everywhere."

The Camera Probe beeped a reply.

"I thought you said there were no more robots," said Giovanni.

AQ 49 laughed, "A robot? How is that a robot? It is far too dim and thick. It can only do what it is told."

AQ 49 moved to a Transport Initiator.

"You're letting us go?" asked Fairuza.

"The ship is your stage," AQ 49 replied.

"We'll escape."

"Do. At least try your very best."

And with that, AQ 49 returned to the cinema to watch events unfold.

"Robots!" cried Fairuza. "Worse than boys. They too must be defeated."

"Look. It's all on my tablet. Every shot from the cinema screen, and us. The probe, it's filming us," said Giovanni

Fairuza looked. All the camera shots where being streamed on to the tablet computer. They both looked at the Camera Probe, which was hovering above them just out of reach.

"Give it a rude gesture," said Fairuza.

"How rude?" asked Giovanni.

"Shocking!"

So he did, as did Fairuza, and two very rude gestures they were. For a moment it made them feel empowered as if they were taking control. But this positive feeling quickly turned sour.

"What are we going to do? What are we actually going to do?" Fairuza asked beginning to panic.

"I don't know. Watch and wait. See what happens," said Giovanni as he slumped into the captain's chair, his stare fixed on the tablet computer.

"Oh, typical! Never pro-active."

"Well what can we do? You tell me, what are the facts?"

"I don't know. And I know! I know! At least you could join me in panicking. Show a little family unity!"

"I could. I will. With scream?"

"Double scream!"

They both released a loud, unrestrained scream. Giovanni caught site of the view through the windscreen window: the ring of rock rapidly approaching in glorious reality-vision. His scream raged to maximum power. He pointed to the windscreen. Fairuza looked. Her scream boomed so loud it was the first to be heard in space.

# CHAPTER 9

The Control Room of the Intergalactic Space Taxi. Siavash was crumpled and muddled and lying on the floor. He tried to stand, but his legs were weak and his head was dizzy so he belly-flopped back to the floor.

"Why must I always go wonky?" he bemoaned. "Such a spiteful condition. I will build myself some scaffolding or fit me up with some stabilisers."

He had just come round from fainting. While looking through the windscreen, he had witnessed the lights go on outside, and had thought himself under laser ray attack. He had dived for cover but had fainted before reaching the floor.

Remembering Fairuza and Giovanni, he brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth and spoke,

"Kids, if you can hear me, be inspired. I have dodged a laser ray attack. Wonkiness the only wound. Over."

He paused trying to recover some composure. A thought popped into his head. He rushed the walkie-talkie back to his mouth,

"Bears! Remember my advice on bears. When under bear attack, make yourself look as big as you can. This tactic can also be used to defend against hostile aliens. Over."

He lowered the walkie-talkie. Another thought rushed into his head. He brought the walkie-talkie to his mouth and spoke,

"As with bears, as with aliens, don't be tempted to climb a tree, as all aliens will probably have invented hover boards and or ladders. Over."

He paused for a moment then sat-up with a jolt and looked at his wrist watch. Fairuza and Giovanni had been gone for over twenty minutes. He leapt to his feet and started racing around the room.

"Panic! Panic! Panic! Wait," he suddenly stopped, becoming calm. "This is space. Time is relative. There is no real people time. The universe is way bigger than people time. You could give them another week, at least. A week to them might be a minute. No!" The panic flooded back into him. "They're your children!! Fix the taxi, then hope to find them!!"

He rushed over to a toolbox labelled 'Control Room Maintenance Tools' and from it grabbed his two favourite bits of kit: a hammer and a roll of gaffer tape.

Sitting in the cockpit of the arcade machine, he slapped the palm of his hand against the machine's start button. Nothing happened. He tapped the hammer against the dashboard then pressed the start button again, but still the machine remained stubbornly not working.

He whacked the side of the machine with the hammer, harder this time, then pressed the start button but still the machine remained dead. He repeated this process over and over: button, nothing, whack. Each time the whack got harder; however, the hammer caused no damage, it simply bounced off the machine without leaving a mark, which only added to his frustration and feeling of desperation, and to his suspicion that he was, in truth, a quite useless weed.

Finally, he gave up on the button pressing part of the process to concentrate fully on whacking the machine with the hammer.

"Work! Work! Work!" he demanded.

Suddenly realising his folly, he stopped and stood still,

"Get a grip of yourself! You are the Captain!" he cried.

But then, he remembered the foot pedals, which he had yet to give a whacking. He dived headfirst into the footwell, which was a small cramped space, and began to put the metal to the pedal. With his face rather too close to the two pedals, he whacked the first and then the second, but the second pedal contained a considerable amount of bounce and so propelled the hammer head back towards his face where it bashed him on the nose. He recoiled in pain, lunging up, but the footwell ceiling refused to move so the back of his head went bang. His body crumpled and he fell back down where his forehead hit the second pedal to be bounced back up again.

After four bounces, his head finally settled to a stop. Still conscious, but dazed and not quite himself, he decided it would be wise to wrap his head in gaffer tape. So that's what did, bandage style.

As he backed out of the footwell, he hit his head again, on a loose flap of metal that was hanging from the footwell ceiling. As it was only the size of a DVD box, it caused no physical pain, only the pain of feeling ever more useless. Having never seen this before, he took a closer look. Behind the flap, he found something he couldn't quite understand: a plastic socket that looked exactly like the cartridge socket connector on an Atari games console.

Intrigued, he rushed to fetch his prized Atari game, now framed and displayed on the wall of the Control Room.

Seated back inside the cockpit, he carefully removed the game cartridge from its box. The picture label on the cartridge showed a cool space fighter, which Giovanni always thought resembled the talon claw of a bird of prey, speeding through a wall of enemy ships, its laser canons blasting. Siavash read aloud the game's title,

'"Emergency Escape Rescue Mission. Blast Off Now."

He crouched into the footwell and pushed the cartridge into the connector slot; it fitted perfectly. He scrambled out, back into the chair. He paused, shocked. The start button was flashing green.

"Hold on a minute," he said to himself, remembering. "This machine isn't even plugged in."

Without thinking another thought, he put a finger on the start button and pressed it. A loud, aggressive emergency alarm began to wail through the game's speakers, and the whole cabinet started to shake.

"It wasn't me!" he cried.

A calm, tranquil voice spoke through the arcade machine's speakers.

"Emergency hostile escape protocol activated. Nano transformation will be complete in ten, nine,"

As the Ship's Voice continued the countdown, the entire cabinet was being transformed into the space fighter seen on the cartridge label. Billions of microscopic robots were constructing it atom-by-atom. To Siavash, it appeared to be growing out of thin, impossible air. A glass cockpit roof appeared above him; metal sides enclosed him; the hard plastic seat transformed around him into a comfortable, perfectly fitting pilot's seat; the foot pedals, joystick, and dashboard, which sprouted a bewildering array of new buttons, reconfigured around him; finally, and most worrying of all for Siavash, a harness strapped him in tightly and secured him to the pilot's seat.

"I can't fly this thing! I'm the sort of man who can fall off his feet!" he said.

The exterior transformation was no less dramatic. The Talon Space Fighter looked a formidable, quite deadly, fighting machine, like a talon claw swooping from the sky ready to strike.

The Ship's Voice continued, "Three, two, one. Transformation complete. To abort, press cancel. Automatic launch control in five,"

The monitor flashed the warning, 'To Abort Press Stop.' On the dashboard, the stop button flashed red.

"What? Where? Out of the house?" Siavash cried in panic. "But, I need the loo!" He instantly regretted saying this. "No!" he cried as he crossed his legs defensively fearing an alien space ship toileting device might automatically activate in order to relieve him. "I'll squeeze them in, both of 'em!" he added.

"Three," The Ship's Voice continued,

Siavash looked at the stop button. He really wanted to press it; he really wanted everything to go back to his kind of normal.

"Two, one,"

Siavash could resist no more. He rushed a hand towards the stop button. Abort, he thought, abort. But no, he fainted, flopping forward all limp and wonky. The harness kept him upright and seated.

It was the shortest faint he had ever had. A second later, he was wide awake and screaming. The Talon Fighter, having blasted off, smashed through the Intergalactic Space Taxi's windscreen to launch itself into the sewage dump tank at a furious speed.

The engine, or whatever propelled the craft forwards, was completely silent. There was no blasting rocket flames or spinning jet engine blades, just a dazzling exhaust of brilliant white light.

"Exit route scan complete," said the Ship's Voice.

The Talon Fighter kept accelerating. Siavash kept screaming. The g-force pushed his puny frame hard against the seat.

"I'm allergic to speed," he managed to say, "that's why I drive a house!"

The Talon Fighter lunged into a steep vertical dive. Siavash felt his stomach had been left somewhere behind his bum and was now racing to catch back up and get back in.

A large plughole in the floor led the Talon Fighter into the drainage tunnel from which all the Bloater sewage was squirted into space. For the first time ever, Siavash willed himself to faint.

"Exit point ahead," said The Ship's Voice. "Laser rockets deployed."

Two laser rockets launched from the ship and raced ahead towards a closed hatch and the end of the tunnel.

AQ 49 sat watching the many live feeds now showing on the cinema screen, including one in which Siavash was the star. On AQ 49's command, the tunnel hatch rotated open. The laser rockets passed through the opened hatch and flew out into space. The Talon Fighter followed.

Clear of the Spaceship, The Talon Fighter came to a sudden stop.

"Exit point cleared," said the Ship's Voice. "Manual control resumed."

Siavash often felt light-headed, indeed at this moment his mind was swaying and blowing and swirling high above the clouds, quite literally. But to make matters worse, he also felt light-bodied, helium balloon light. It was the weightlessness of space as he was now beyond the spaceship's gravity making machines. He felt as if his body had vanished.

"I'm feeling right weird. Am I still here? I feel as thin as air," he said while staring at his floating hands and arms.

"You are definitely still there. Your vitals are being monitored a million times a second," said the Ship's Voice.

"I'm not modelled from balloons like one of those sausage dogs?"

"I have no understanding of what you just said."

Now, if there had been time to further pause, a second or two more to ponder and think, it would have occurred to Siavash that he hadn't ventured outside his house for a very long time. But now, here he was, not only outside his house but outside his planet's solar system, a lost little dot in the vastness of space. However, he had no time to think about such matters, because the Spaceship he had flown out of, leaving his children still inside, was being bombarded by great chunks of exploding rock.

"What's happening to the Spaceship? It's like an asteroid belt. It's flying into it. Why?" asked Siavash.

"I have no valid answer. The ship still has power but continues on its course. I detect its shields have been deactivated."

"Super cool force field shields? Piddle-me-shoes! It's madness! It's getting hit on purpose? Why?"

"Many aliens are not as intelligent as their technology suggests."

"Nor humans. I still use a wind-up watch. Is it safe? Will it survive? Will the rocks blow it to smithereens?" he asked with increasing panic.

"I calculate a 38% chance that it will be, blown to smithereens. We may not survive the resulting explosion. Emergency escape protocol reactivated. I will take us beyond the danger zone."

"But my kids are in there."

"You are my sole priority. However, you are permitted to offer an alternative, albeit viable, command."

A countdown, staring from ten, flashed on the monitor.

"Meaning what exactly?" asked Siavash.

"A sensible plan with a reasonable chance of working."

"You can't expect that from me! That's like discrimination!"

"I have protocols to follow. I must take you to the nearest safest planet. You will have to enter stasis."

"Stasis?"

"You will have to be frozen. The planet is far, far away."

"You can't freeze me; I'm too bony. I'll snap."

"Blast off to safety in ten, nine,"

Siavash desperately searched his mind for a plan, even a mere scrap of an idea, but found only the muddle of panic.

"Six," the Ship's Voice continued the countdown, "five, four, three, two"

An idea flashed into Siavash's mind, "We laser blast the rocks and clear a path for the spaceship!" he proclaimed.

The countdown on the monitor paused on number one.

"I can only use such weaponry to safeguard the onboard escapee."

"Goodness you're a piddling little bore! This isn't routine as normal. If it was, I'd be navigating the Milky Way from the safety of Earth while scoffing wodges of cheese on Frazzles for crackers while quaffing back three whole tins of Shandy Bass. It is a Sunday after all! But I'm not! I'm out here walking the edge of a very dangerous cliff in a pair of not very sensible, in fact very insensible, ladies high heel shoes! And that from a man who wears corduroy slippers with Velcro straps for improved fit and added extra comfort!!!"

There was a pause. The Ship's Voice then spoke,

"I will fly, you will have to shoot."

"Yes! Great news! Me best skill is fly shooting! We must be the A team. The SWAT team! You need a name to match your new status. From this point on, I shall call you, Alfonzo."

The Ship's Voice was unmoved by this praise.

"Don't," it said, "there is no need. You have twenty seconds to prove yourself. If you fail, you will be frozen."

"Just show me how to shoot," said Siavash.

"Targetable rocks will appear in the head-up display on the front cockpit window. Touch the ones you want to destroy," said the Ship's Voice.

"What about motion sensors? I could point and shoot." He made both his hands into the shape of a gun. "Or no," he reached into his pocket, "I could use me spud gun!"

The Talon Fighter weaved its way through the hail storm that was the ring of rock. The ring was thin but wide. The largest rocks were the size of a family car, tiny against the Spaceship but as their impact velocity was so massive, the damage they caused was considerable. If allowed to continue smashing into the Spaceship, at best, the Spaceship would limp through broken and shattered; at worst, it would burst into one giant fireball and explode into smithereens.

The Talon Fighter swept back around to position itself to attack. A countdown, from twenty, appeared on the monitor.

"Mission ready," said the Ship's Voice. "Keep with the speed or fail. You have twenty,"

The countdown began.

"Piddle your shoes! You're a countdown freak! It's not healthy. You're definitely not an Alfonza. You're actually a Wally Phillips."

The Talon Fighter burst away at a furious speed and began to zip around like a delinquent rollercoaster turning and twisting and looping without any regard for its terrified human passengers. Siavash could barely keep the spud gun pointed at the head-up display, which fizzed busy with the rocks that were destined to smash into the Spaceship.

"Viable target missed. Viable target missed," the Ship's Voice kept saying over and over again in rapid succession. This frustrated and angered Siavash but also served to inspire him.

"No Wally Phillips is going to piddle on my ladies high heel shoes and stop me from saving me kids!" he cried full of determination.

With a targetable rock locked in his sights, he pulled the spud gun's trigger. The laser canon fired. The rock exploded, vaporized.

# CHAPTER 10

The Flight Deck, Fairuza and Giovanni sat sheltering, huddled together under a desk. Giovanni, open mouthed, speechless, his stare fixed on his tablet, watching a live feed video that showed the Talon Fighter blasting a great many rocks as it cleared a path for the Spaceship. And Fairuza, poised nervously, waiting for the shake and thunder of another impact.

"It can't be," Giovanni managed to whisper.

"Are we through the ring? Then how long before we," she paused, unable to say, "crash, bang, wallop go splat into the planet." Frustrated and scared, the sight of Giovanni staring rather gormlessly at his tablet only heightened her emotions. "If you ever plan on proving yourself my equal," she continued, "now is the time to do it! We must think of a way to safety!"

Giovanni offered no reply, which further intensified her emotions.

"Giovanni, why can't you put the tablet down and start using your brain?" she demanded.

He looked at her, confused and bewildered, and said,

"My brain is an increasingly frazzled lump of confused, pointless goo."

"Now, here, finally you begin to truly know yourself," she cried, despairing.

"I do," he replied.

Fairuza released a scream of frustration. "What can we learn?" she then asked. Suddenly a burst of inspiration came to her, "The manual! The ship's manual. We find it. I read it. I learn it by heart. I'm tested. I pass. I'm qualified. I fly us to safety, home and beyond."

"Fly a spaceship, like Dad is?"

He turned the tablet to show her the screen then pointed to the live feed showing the Talon Fighter.

"Doesn't that look like the spaceship from Dad's Atari game?" he asked.

Fairuza, who had shown little interest in the Atari game, unlike Giovanni, who had read the game's manual several times, couldn't give an answer.

"That is not one of my specialist subjects," she snapped.

"It's one of mine. And it does look the same, exactly the same. And what's it doing blasting rocks out of the way? It's on our side. But why? And who's the pilot? Dad?"

"Dad, outside the house? What planet are you on?"

He looked at her as if she was the queen of stupid. "None. But I will be, every splattered piece of me. I'm just glad you could join me for the ride."

"So, yes, it's all very crazy. But the Atari game, it's a piece of plastic in a cardboard box. And how does that go from that," she pointed at the Talon Fighter. "to that?"

"Nanobots," he replied, his voice just a whisper. She looked at him none the wiser. He continued, "Nanobot Transformation. We've got to get back to the house. Dad will come back for us. We've got to tell to him."

"What?"

"The plan."

"You have a plan?"

"The manual. You were right. It's all in there."

"You have a plan?"

"Shush. Don't forget we're being watched."

He looked left, as did Fairuza, out beyond the desk. Directly in front of them, about four metres away, the Camera Probe hung in the air filming them.

"This would normally sound ridiculous, but given all the weirdness, I reckon I can say it and still sound normal," said Giovanni turning to face Fairuza.

"What?" she asked.

"Fairuza, be cool."

"I'll show you cool. You may have the big plan idea but I'm the girl with the finer detail,"

"Wow! Finer Detail Girl. The legend begins," replied Giovanni sarcastically.

"Shouldn't we be hurrying, if not a actually panicking?"

"Yes, at least."

"Then follow me."

With the rucksack over her shoulders and the timeline scroll held in her hands, she crawled from underneath the desk and scrambled to her feet. Giovanni followed.

"So, we must find the ship's manual," she said rather too loudly, trying to fool the Camera Probe, which rose up to match her eye-level. "This is the ship's Flight Deck, so there must be a copy in here." She looked at Giovanni and gave him a quick, sly eye signal that gestured towards the automatic door. She then began to hurry around the room pretending to hunt the manual down. Giovanni followed her closely, as did the Camera Probe, at a distance of exactly four metres. "And a proper book based copy," she said. "Not just a digital version. Why's that, you ask? Well, easy, if the ship's computer failed the digital version couldn't be read." Without thinking, she glanced at the Camera Probe and said, "Clever, don't you think? Captain material if there ever was."

"It's not going to nod yes," said Giovanni.

She looked at Giovanni sternly and, as if telling him off, said

"Giovanni, will you please stay, on your MARKS."

"All SET, miss," he replied.

"GO!"

They dashed towards the door. It opened automatically. They passed through, turning to look behind. The Camera Probe, still inside the Flight Deck, zoomed towards the door. The door closed shut.

"What now? It can still follow us," said Giovanni.

"This!"

Fairuza raised the timeline scroll, to use as a baseball bat. The door slid open. The Camera Probe popped out. Fairuza lunged at it with the scroll, but it moved one inch to the side, and so she missed it completely. Such was her momentum she tumbled through the door back into the Flight Deck. The door slid shut. Giovanni, now alone in a long white corridor, turned and looked at the Camera Probe, which now hung in the air four metres away.

"Right. Do I look foolish?" he asked. He glanced at the tablet and the live feed of himself, then back at the Camera Probe. "Yes. Right proper foolish. But not as foolish as,"

Before he could finish speaking the door slid open, and Fairuza came sprinting out.

"Split up!" she shouted, as she sprinted down the corridor.

Giovanni hesitated, confused. He looked around. His only options were to follow Fairuza or re-enter the Flight Deck.

Now fifteen metres away, Fairuza came to a stop then turned to face Giovanni.

"It can't follow us both," she shouted.

"No? Who's going to stay on the spaceship then? You, as the girl?"

"We know where to meet! Just run, split up!"

The Camera Probe self-replicated and split into two identical camera probes. Camera Probe 2 shot off towards Fairuza.

"How dare you!" Fairuza shouted at it. She then began to march back towards Giovanni. "Right, fine! We'll just have to whisper details of our guaranteed way to stop the robot's evil plan. Won't we, Giovanni?"

"Err, yeah," replied Giovanni playing along.

Fairuza stopped in front of Giovanni, placed the timeline scroll of the floor, took off her rucksack, opened it, took out three of the books, put them on the floor besides the scroll then plunged her head deep inside the rucksack.

"Giovanni, join me," she demanded. Giovanni bowed down and stuck his head inside the rucksack. "If they follow, we net them," she whispered.

"They're way too cool to fool," Giovanni replied also in a whisper.

"Trust me."

"You trust me. I've got the plan."

"I don't trust you; I've been educated, semi-privately by myself."

"Thinking about it, so what if they film us. I can whisper the plan to Dad."

"We do look rather scruffy, you know."

"No one's looking at you. I'm the action dude ."

"Shush! Be ready!"

"I'm glad I'm not in your class at school."

"A girl has the right to be bossy, you know!"

"And a boy has the right to completely ignore her."

"Just get on with it!"

She lifted her head up to peep outside.

"Now!" she screamed as she pulled the rucksack away. Somewhat startled, Giovanni jumped up. A second later, he wasn't sure how, he had a camera probe clasped in his hands. He looked at Fairuza, she wrestled the rucksack to the floor and got it in a sort of arm lock. She looked up at him. He thought, what now? The camera probe jumped out of his hands.

"You!" cried Fairuza at him. "Weedy hands!"

"No! Sweaty hands!" he replied.

She tied the rucksack shut and sealed a probe inside. "I got mine."

"It will laser its way out or something. Surely it's got scissors."

"Will it?" She held the rucksack up and looked at it. The camera probe inside was perfectly still and subdued. "Bagged it!"

"So my hands are slightly sweaty. I'm nervous. This rollercoaster ride doesn't go back to the beginning. It ends with a great big crash and BANG!!"

# CHAPTER 11

Siavash had quickly mastered the art of blasting rocks out of the path of an oncoming spaceship. So much so, he now considered it to be his third best skill.

"One hundred and fifty eight," he proclaimed as he pulled the trigger to blast away the last rock that threatened to smash into the Spaceship. "Good, but not even close to my fly shooting record. Great flying by you though!" he told the Ship's Voice. "For now and forever, you shall always be known as, Alfonzo!"

"If you insist. But I would prefer Alfonzo R 48 XGT," said the Ship's Voice.

"So would I, Alfonzo R 48 XGT."

"With the task completed, you must now be taken to a safe location."

"No! I can't! Not without me kids!"

"The Spaceship remains a viable threat."

"Why? What's it doing now?"

"Crashing. That planet will be hard to miss. It's the size of a planet you see."

And indeed the planet was hard to miss. It loomed ever large and dominated the view, and since the Spaceship was travelling at 25,000 miles per hour, it grew rapidly closer.

"Crashing? More on purpose again?" asked Siavash.

"My calculations suggest yes."

"That's madness! It's stupid mad! Stupid, stupid, stupid mad! Are they muddled? Drunkards? Are they even awake?"

"Who?"

"The crew."

"I don't know the answer to that."

"Then ask them! Even my space taxi's got a ruddy radio! Look!" he pulled out the walkie-talkie from his pocket. "There! Ask them why, why, why! Isn't that a viable option?''

"It is." There was a short pause. "The communication has been successful."

"It didn't take long."

"I spoke to a robot of largely male design."

"And?"

"The Spaceship will crash into the planet."

"Why?"

"Because there's nothing worth watching on the telly."

"What?"

"That, I conclude, was an attempt at wit."

"Swine! But, why? Why?"

"No other reason was given."

"Does it know my kids are onboard?"

"Yes. But to quote it, 'I ain't no babysitter.' "

"It's got to be ill. Demented. Infected with a weird space disease."

"I conclude it is highly dysfunctional."

"What can we do?"

"Fly fast away to a safer location."

"No!"

"We must."

"Unless I can think of another viable option?"

"Yes."

A countdown, from twenty, appeared on the monitor. It fuelled Siavash's panic.

"A swap! Me for me kids," he said.

"Not viable."

"Use a tractor beam."

"No such device is fitted."

"Build one. Invent one."

"There isn't the time."

"A time machine!"

"Ditto."

"Beam me inside the ship. I'm not so unhandy, especially when riled. I'll have it with me spud gun. I'll then give it me fists!"

"You will?" asked the Ship's Voice surprised at the thought.

"After a chat, and a friendly word."

"A transporter beam has not been fitted."

"Piddle-me-shoes! You're the very basic model."

"A poor conclusion. I've yet to flash my two cup holders."

"Blow the planet up!"

"Come on. That's just plain silly."

"I'll introduce the robot to Elton John!"

"Oh please. Get real. As if you know Sir Elton John."

"Well what then? Give us a clue. It's ill. Fix it. Or better, break it. Hack it! Hack into the computer and take over the ship."

"Yes."

"You will? You can?"

"I will try."

"Yes! Go, Alfonzo R 48 XGT! That's the way. Crush 'em while they're weak!"

There was a short pause.

"Whoops," said the Ship's Voice.

"What?" asked Siavash.

The Ship's Voice began speaking very quickly.

"I wasn't expecting that."

The speed of the voice inspired Siavash to do the same and further intensified his panic. "What?" he asked.

"Defeat," replied the Ship's Voice.

"You didn't hack the computer?"

"The robot hacked me."

"Meaning?"

"All auto-pilot functions are shutting down. You will have to fly solo."

"What?"

"You've read the manual that came with the game. Basic instructions on how to pilot the ship. All controls are highly intuitive."

"Read not learnt. Perused at best."

"If you must return to save your kids from certain,"

Siavash cut him off, "Don't say it!"

"This route will take you back to our launch zone. I can offer no further, reasonable, assistance."

A 3D navigation route appeared on the head-up display, ever changing as it tracked the fast moving Spaceship.

Siavash glanced at the ship's controls, the joystick, foot pedals, dashboard buttons, and felt his brain turn to a dollop of sticky gloop.

"Read not learnt. I've always been dazzled by theory."

"Then have a few seconds to practice," its voice slowed, sounding unwell, "because, oooh, I'm feeling rather queasy."

The Talon Fighter began to spin out of control. Siavash grabbed the joystick with both his hands and, trying to control the ship, wobbled it all around. It made the spinning worse. The spud gun, now released into zero gravity, began smacking into his face back and forth.

"I can't stop the spinning," said Siavash.

"Make it stop. Please. I think I'm going to retch," replied the Ship's Voice.

"You're a ruddy machine! I'm the one right for puking!"

'Bleaaaarehhhh!!' went the Ship's Voice retching.

The Talon Fighter's front thrusters fired on full power. It was like slamming on the brakes. The ship's speed going forwards went from crazy rocket fast to befuddled granny slow in two seconds flat. The spinning, however, continued round and round and round. The intense deceleration g-forces caused Siavash's eyes to bulge out of their sockets and his tongue to go sticking out of his mouth. It made screaming difficult, but as he felt his face was about to be torn off, he did so anyway.

"Oooh, the other end now too," said the Ship's Voice, as if clenching hard.

The front thrusters stopped. The rear engine fired up and spewed out a blast of full jetting thrust. The ship accelerated fast away. The acceleration g-force pressed Siavash back into the seat with all the force of an angry hippo. His outward bulging eyeballs bulged inward. He thought he glimpsed his brain. His tongue slapped against his tonsils. Worried he might swallow it, he spat it between his teeth and bit it to clamp it safe, and although this made screaming difficult, such was the pain it caused him, he screamed, screamed away. The spud gun hit him bang in the face.

"Bleaaaarehhhh!!" went the Ship's Voice retching.

The main engine cut out. The forward thrusters fired. The ship's forward motion was cut dead. Siavash suffered as he had suffered just moments before. His body pressed so hard against the seatbelt harness he feared the straps might cut through his skin and debone him or worse, leave a permanent imprint on his skin, that looked something like a mankini.

"Aaargh!!" went the Ship's Voice.

The front thrusters cut off. The rear engine blasted. Siavash suffered some more.

"Bleaaaarehhhh!!" went the Ship's Voice.

The rear engine cut off. The front thrusters blasted. Siavash suffered some more. The spud gun came for his face. He snatched at it with his mouth and somehow caught it by the barrel between his teeth. This sight, his beloved, trusted spud gun, it's barrel stuck in his mouth, as if even it had turned against him, freaked him out. In a frantic panic, he repeatedly pressed every dashboard button and stamped relentlessly on the foot pedals. It looked like he was drumming a mad rock solo for an audience of hard to impress mad rock drummers.

Suddenly, the spinning stopped, and the engine and thrusters cut off. Siavash froze startled by the sudden sense of calm. The Talon Fighter orbited the planet at a steady, unnoticeable speed.

"Are you there, Alfonzo R 48 XGT?" he asked.

Alfonzo R 48 XGT didn't respond.

Remembering, Siavash scoured the view for the Spaceship, but he failed to find it. Distance and darkness had vanished it.

He looked at the navigation route on the head-up display. A warning message flashed, 'Make A U-Turn Now.'

He looked at the ship's controls trying to comprehend them.

"Intuitive you say," he said, not very convinced.

He pressed the right foot pedal gently, hoping it was the accelerator, as it would be for a car. The ship moved forward slowly. He dabbed the left foot pedal, the brake on a car, and the ship slowed under braking.

"Right! So this must be the steering thing," he said of the joystick. "That's all I need to know. That and something else. Dimensions! Three dimensions. Not a piddling two. But an extra one. Up and ruddy down. Up and ruddy down. Just remember that up and ruddy down!"

He slammed on the accelerator and pulled the joystick all the way back. The ship shot off, lightening fast, into a loop-the-loop. Eventually, after six full loops, Siavash had the mind to ease the joystick forwards and set the ship on a level course.

The navigation system was as simple to understand as possibly could be. It consisted of two dots: a red one in the background which represented the Spaceship; and a green one in the foreground which represented the Talon Fighter. Siavash quickly worked out that if the two dots were aligned he was travelling in the direction of the Spaceship. And if the green dot moved to the left of the red dot he had to steer the Talon Fighter right so that the two dots would move together and eventually align. If the green dot rose above the red dot, he had to steer down, and so on. A 'Distance To Target' readout, told him how close he was to the Spaceship - miles away, although he was catching up at a fantastic speed.

In theory, it was all very simple, just as Siavash like it. And with space so very spacious, with ample free room to practice, his confidence soon started to grow.

His concentration became intense; he was totally focused on completing the task. The two dots held his stare rigidly. He paid no attention to his sweat covered face, or his sticky out tongue and panting breath, which made him appear like a zombie dog desperately waiting for a stick to be thrown followed by the order, 'fetch!'

His efforts paid off. The dots came together, aligned, like the Moon eclipsing the Sun. He whooped a cheer and, unable to resist, threw a burst of dancing shapes. He then forced himself still and regained his focus.

Now all he had to do was hold the joystick steady, as the Spaceship itself was flying a steady course, straight towards the planet. This lull in activity, however, teased his mind and prodded it to wander,

"Concentrate!" he told himself. "Don't lose it now, Ace. I mean, Siavash," he quickly corrected himself. 'You're Mr Siavash Rogers. Then why haven't I fainted while flying this thing? I should have, thrice. Ace! No! Focus! Siavash! Ace! Focus!"

This internal battle threatened to overwhelm him. Fortunately, the navigation system graphics suddenly changed and so refreshed his concentration. With the Spaceship looming ever large, the navigation route became far more detailed and busy. A graphic of the Spaceship appeared in the head-up display, and the red dot now tracked and located the hatch through which the Talon Fighter had left the Spaceship. This made aligning the two dots a whole lot harder. The joystick became far more sensitive; the slightest touch would throw the dots apart.

Siavash felt his mind befuddled and the sweat on his face turn chill. He panicked and stamped on the brake. The Fighter slowed rapidly. Siavash panicked some more. Time was of the essence; he had to be quick. Soon the Spaceship would enter the planet's atmosphere, and from there, straight down to the ground and bang! He floored the accelerator. He had to succeed; he had to be prepared to crash. To help cool his emotions, he started to whistle the Barry Manilow version of Could It Be Magic.

# CHAPTER 12

AQ 49 sat in the cinema gorging on the life he could see before him: the Talon Fighter careering towards the hatch on a very wonky course; Fairuza and Giovanni arriving back inside the Sewage Storage Tank; the virtual Bloats, now mostly a mob of panic, like a sea of jelly in a fit of wobble; the view from the planet, a clear peaceful sky; the planet seen from space, awaiting its fate as ignorantly as the earth's dinosaurs once did.

Fairuza and Giovanni stood looking at the tablet and the live feed of the Talon Fighter. The two Camera Probes hovered close by while the one trapped inside Fairuza's rucksack seemed to be having a good rummage around inside.

"He's losing control," said Fairuza referring to her Dad's command of the Talon Fighter.

"It should have autopilot. A computer should be flying it," said Giovanni.

"Dad's probably driven it nuts."

"He's not going to make it."

"He will make it," Fairuza sounded certain, determined. "He'll have to make it. But how did he fly it out of here?"

"The autopilot did it or he just blasted his way out."

Glancing back at the tablet, something caught Fairuza's eye, "Look," she said.

Giovanni complied. Fairuza pointed to a live feed showing two Bloats inside the Flight Deck of the Virtual Spaceship. They were standing looking at a large wall-mounted video screen while engaged in what seemed to be an urgent, heated discussion. The screen showed an exterior shot of the Virtual Spaceship. Suddenly, the two Bloats punched the air, as if celebrating. The Virtual Spaceship, as seen on the screen, started to split into hundreds of self-contained modules of all different shapes and sizes that began to move calmly away from the main tube-shaped body of the spaceship - the superstructure, a stand-alone spaceship that housed all the important stuff like the main engines, nuclear reactors, computer and support systems, captain's quarters and spa, cinema, the Flight Deck and so on.

"What's happening?" asked Giovanni.

"They're doing what they would do in the real world," said Fairuza.

"What's the point of that?"

"Hope. Desperate hope. It's an emergency."

"Then that's like doing the fire drill at school; it's only good for a skive."

"No. They're following the correct emergency procedure. What if those modules are like lifeboats? What if they could land on the planet safely?"

A loud warning alarm started to sound. Fairuza and Giovanni looked at each other, startled and concerned.

Siavash's whistling was now a constant high-pitch whine, like a whistling kettle about to go pop. He was lost in concentration, trance-like, his stare fixed to the navigation dots, which somehow, magically, he had managed to align. His hand held the joystick perfectly still. He dared not move his body, not even to itch his sweat tickled face. His cheeks, desperate for relief, twitched convulsively.

A sudden thought rushed into his mind. Startled, he looked up and through the windscreen. He could see the hatch was just seconds away. And, good grief, no, he thought, it was shut and solid and not taking emergency evasive action to get out of his way. The pitch of his whistling went so high only dogs could hear it. Perturbed by the silence, he began to scream.

Fairuza and Giovanni grew ever more concerned as the alarm continued to sound.

"What's it warning us of?" asked Giovanni.

"Danger!" said Fairuza.

"I worked that out myself," replied Giovanni.

"How do they empty this tank?"

"They flush it, like anything filled with poo."

"Or they open up a hatch and let the vacuum of space suck it out."

"Suck poo?"

"Out! And anything else that happens to be there."

"There is no poo."

"If that's how Dad got out, that's how he's coming back in."

"Out with the poo, in with the poo."

"There is no poo."

"There's us!"

The danger was obvious: when the hatch opened, the vacuum of space would pull them through the opening out to certain death.

"Hold on to something!" cried Fairuza.

Giovanni grabbed Fairuza; Fairuza grabbed Giovanni. They held each other in a tight embrace.

"What are you holding on to?" They both asked at the same time.

"You!" They both answered.

AQ 49 was an ever watching eye.

"What a clever little girl," it said to itself. "How thrilling. I wouldn't want to lose my special guest stars, not just yet. Take your cue, please do try to save yourselves."

Siavash, his mouth wide open as if screaming, but no scream came roaring out. He held the Talon Fighter on a steady, crash, course towards the hatch which remained shut and very solid.

With a second to spare, the hatch rotated open. The Talon Fighter passed through and entered the drainage tunnel.

Fairuza and Giovanni, holding each other, flew through the air, sucked towards the plughole.

"We're going to get flushed!" cried Giovanni.

"Dad's coming back!" replied Fairuza.

"What can he do?"

"Something. Tell me!"

"Block it? He's always blocking our bog. Every Sunday at least."

"Arggghh!" Fairuza screamed. "That cannot be my final thought!"

Siavash was running on pure instinct. The Talon Fighter flew through the narrow drainage tunnel at such a speed he had no time to think how he was flying it. He became the Pinball Wizard; he became a part of the machine.

He yanked the joystick towards him, unthinking, unblinking. His timing was perfect. The Talon Fighter went vertical, straight up the plughole.

Fairuza and Giovanni skidded along the smooth metal floor, quickly slowing to a stop. AQ 49 had closed the hatch. The Talon Fighter shot out of the plughole.

"Dad!" Fairuza and Giovanni cried.

Siavash levelled the Talon Fighter then slammed on the brakes. As the Talon Fighter slowed, Fairuza and Giovanni ran towards it.

The Talon Fighter, in perfect stillness, hovered just above the floor. Siavash, in perfect stillness, stunned numb by all the excitement, remained seated inside. A camera probe hovered outside the cockpit filming him inside.

Fairuza and Giovanni stood outside shouting for their Dad to get out and speak to them but he remained frozen and unable to hear their pleas. Fairuza kept shouting. Giovanni had another idea. He pulled out his walkie-talkie and spoke into it, "Dad! Open up the cockpit."

Inside the cockpit, Giovanni's voice was heard over the second walkie-talkie. Siavash picked it up and replied.

"I can't. I need a minute," he said.

"We haven't got a minute," said Giovanni.

"Then seconds, sixty will do."

"The spaceship is going to crash."

"Into a great big ruddy planet."

"You know?"

"A great big ruddy planet."

"How does he know?" asked Fairuza. Giovanni shrugged at her. He didn't think it mattered.

"Is there room in there for me and Fairuza?" Giovanni asked his Dad.

"At a squeeze and a break and a painful crush."

"We can't all fit in there," said Fairuza. "And anyway, that's no solution at all. We could be light years from home. And what of the Bloats?"

"What about them?" asked Giovanni.

"They need saving too."

"We're not the UN. And women and children first remember, although not women, that's proper sexist. You are still a child though, aren't you, woman?"

"Don't start being clever. This isn't the time."

"I'll save them. I'll upload them to this," he replied, pointing at his tablet.

"You claimed to have a plan, Giovanni."

"I do have a plan."

"As do I. What's yours?"

"Right. My brilliant plan."

Remembering the Camera Probes 1 and 2, he looked to see if they were still watching. They were, positioned several metres away. To stop them listening, he unzipped his coat, pulled it over his head and sheltered inside with the walkie-talkie to his mouth and ear. So she could hear, Fairuza wriggled the right side of her head inside his coat. As she did this, Camera Probe , the one inside her rucksack, became even more lively and rather distracting.

"Stop it," she said in a sharp whisper to Camera Probe 3, "I'll let you out later."

This did the trick; Camera Probe 3 quietened down.

Giovanni talked quietly into the walkie-talkie.

"Dad, listen. If I'm right and don't forget, in our house, I'm the go to gadget guy, the number one gaming superstar."

"He's the number one gaming superstar," said a still dazed Siavash to himself, not into the walkie-talkie.

"This spacecraft you're in, it's the Atari game and arcade machine mutated. Right? Some weird alien creation just like the washing machine," continued Giovanni.

"Weird alien creation, just like the washing machine," continued Siavash to himself.

"It's an emergency escape super-machine."

"An emergency escape weird machine."

"I reckon the game's manual lists all its weapons and capabilities."

"Weird alien washing machine."

"There's a parasite function."

"Worms."

"A function to take-over the flight controls of another spaceship. You can take control of this spaceship, the one that's crashing, and fly it and us to safety."

This roused Siavash. He became animated, waving his fist.

"Yes! Great news! That'll teach the swine!" he shouted.

"Did you hear me, Dad? You can take over this spaceship, the one that's crashing, and fly it and us to safety."

Siavash spoke into the walkie-talkie, "Great news, Son. But, I'm useless."

"Not completely. You've already flown out and back in. Now all you have to do is fly back out into space, land on top of the Spaceship, activate the parasite function and then don't crash."

"Simple."

"Easy."

"Don't crash."

"Miss the planet."

"Don't fly down!"

"Fly up."

"There is the fact of gravity to contend with, you know. It may pull him down. He may have to land," said Fairuza.

"Or do fly down. They'll be plenty of space to land, probably," said Giovanni into the walkie-talkie.

"What? Up or down or down and up? You're confusing me," said Siavash.

"Landing's well pre-school. There's bound to be an auto-land feature. Even cars on Earth can park themselves," said Giovanni.

"When told. With button pressed."

"There was a menu button on the dashboard. Is it still there?"

Siavash looked. The button was still there.

"Yes."

"Use it. Press it. Navigate the options. You'll have to work it out, or you'll have to live with the guilt of failing to save your children."

"I'll do charity work. That'll sort me out. Have you got any favourites? Nothing with anything catching."

"Don't even think about failing."

"I won't have to leave this spacecraft, will I? I can stay inside?"

"Yes."

"Tell him to go, to hurry up," said Fairuza.

"Fairuza says go and hurry up," said Giovanni.

"And good luck, lots of love, and I believe you can do it," she added.

"And good luck, lots of love and we believe you can do it," said Giovanni.

Moved by this, Siavash became emotional.

"Well, that's lit the fire in me belly. I won't make a speech. I'll just say this. That robot fella thing, who's ever going to say such wonderful words to it? Hey? A ruddy vacuum cleaner? You're mum would be beaming with pride."

"She would? Why?" asked Giovanni.

"For believing in me. She thought she was the only one silly enough to do so."

"Then we're all silly now, Dad, and happy to be," said Fairuza.

"Then we're all silly now, Dad, and happy to be," said Giovanni into the walkie-talkie.

"That was my line," Fairuza protested.

"Move away from the vehicle, kids. Siavash Rogers has a mission to ace!"

Fairuza pulled Giovanni's coat back below his head then ushered him away from the Talon Fighter.

"Quick," said Fairuza to Giovanni, "We have to get to the Flight Deck."

Siavash, inspired and full of confidence, flushed his mind of all anxiety. His only thought now was to take over the Spaceship and defeat AQ 49. He floored the accelerator and sped fast away with an unthinking, instinctive flair.

"Why the Flight Deck?" Giovanni asked Fairuza.

She whispered into his ear, "To activate the emergency procedure just like the Bloats did."

The Talon Fighter disappeared down the plughole.

"How are we going to do that?" asked Giovanni.

Fairuza, about to whisper her answer, was yanked off the ground and backwards. A second later she landed on her bum and was wrestling her rucksack and, the cause of her involuntary leap, Camera Probe 3 which was darting around inside the rucksack like a trapped jet- powered pigeon intent on escape.

"Right," she said pulling the rucksack off, "I'm going to release it. Back into the wild!"

Camera Probe 3 fell still.

"But how are we going to do what you just said?" asked Giovanni.

"I don't know," said Fairuza forgetting about Camera Probe 3, "but the first thing to do is to try. It could save us all or, at the very least, think of Dad. This Spaceship is humongous. Even if he can do what you say he can do, he'll be like a flea trying to ride a dog."

"We could make it mouse size."

"I was thinking squirrel,"

"Have we got the time to argue?"

"No."

"Correct. Cos any second now, its poo down the loo time again."

They set-off, running towards a Transport Initiator but three steps in, two police-like sirens began blaring out. This threatening, authoritative sound shocked them both to stop dead still. Giovanni even raised his hands above his head.

"Don't shoot!" he cried. "We're British! We're even too young to Taser!"

They looked behind, towards the sound of the sirens. Camera Probes 1 and 2 hovered in the air a few metres away. Both emitted a flashing red light and the final blast of a siren.

"Violation detected," said Camera Probes 1 and 2 mechanically and in unison. "Conspiring to enter the Flight Deck without official authorization. Remain standing. Move only to breathe!"

Fairuza and Giovanni looked at each other,

"Run!" they both shouted.

But before they could set off, Camera Probes 1 and 2 opened fire shooting at them thousands of tiny silver metal balls that wrapped tightly around their bodies to form a second skin. Fairuza tried to swat the balls away using her rucksack, but they were far too quick and agile. Camera Probe 3 bolted, yanking the rucksack from her hand.

"My books!" she cried.

She tried to reach for the rucksack, but the balls held her firm. Seconds later, she and Giovanni appeared to be wearing suits of armour only their faces were left uncovered. Neither could move to walk or protest. They were both prisoners.

# CHAPTER 13

AQ 49 sat perfectly still and silent. The light from the cinema screen danced on its blank, featureless face. It was all that gave it life and animation. But beneath this transparent void some sort of excitement flowed - questions, what was Giovanni's plan, and how will Siavash enact it? It had to know; it had to keep watching.

Without moving, using thought alone, it gave the command for the hatch to open.

The Talon Fighter past through the hatch out into space. The size of the planet, how close it appeared, shocked Siavash. He felt he could almost touch it.

He looked for the Menu Button on the dashboard. It was big and obviously and couldn't be missed, although it was by Siavash several times. Finally, he found it and banged it with his fist. On the head-up display, a list of Menu Options appeared:

My Spacecraft,

Communications,

Media,

Pilot Settings,

Service Schedule,

Alien Personalisation,

Stasis Freeze,

Weapons.

Trying to navigate the options to Weapons, he pressed the Menu Button again. But this only made the Menu Options vanish from the head-up display.

"No!! Come back!" He waved his fist as if to threaten, "I'm handy! I'm handy!" he cried.

Fairuza and Giovanni stood rigid, unable to move, imprisoned in metal ball suits, which had held them firm against the vacuum of space for the brief moment the hatch was open.

"You've got to let us go," demanded Fairuza.

"You will be moved to a holding cell until further instruction is received," said Camera Probe 1 and 2.

"Don't let that robot AQ 49 rule you. It called you dim and thick," said Giovanni

"Tell it you're freeing us, now, this instant!" said Fairuza.

"We are not acting under AQ 49's specific instructions. Any unauthorized attempt to enter the Flight Deck must always be stopped," said Camera Probes 1 and 2.

Fairuza and Giovanni began marching forwards involuntary, unable to resist the movement of the metal suits which plodded them along like a pair of cumbersome robots. Camera Probe 1 and 2 followed.

"Stop it! You can't lock us in a cell!" said Fairuza.

"You will only be locked in at night. During the day you will be put to work, cleaning," said Camera Probes 1 and 2.

"Nooooooo!! I am becoming my robot!" cried Giovanni.

"Look, we're still young," Fairuza tried to reason with the Camera Probes. "Don't ruin us. Don't make us hate authority for the rest of our lives," she continued.

"Ten to fifteen minutes?" said Giovanni. "That's no bargaining chip. Tell them if they free us they might also save themselves."

"We're all going to crash. There's no point locking us up. We all face utter doom. We should stand united by danger!" said Fairuza.

Camera Probes 1 and 2 gave no response.

"AQ 49 was right," said Giovanni. "You're a battery away from being pound shop Christmas baubles!"

Fairuza's rucksack shot towards her sliding along the floor. It quickly caught her up then continued by her side. Seeing this, she seemed quite moved,

"My books. They do love me," she said.

From out of the rucksack, Camera Probe 3 burst free and in an expressive, actorly voice proclaimed,

"As do I! Oh, as do I! Fairuza, she who gave me liberty! Greet me! Hold me! Kiss me!"

It rushed towards her face as if moving in for a kiss. But all Fairuza could see was her own distorted face as reflected in the round silver mirrored surface.

"Err, no. Thank you. No," she said feeling a rather repulsed.

Camera Probe 3 continued getting closer. Unable to recoil or move away, Fairuza snapped her eyes shut.

"Mwah! Mwah!" said Camera Probe 3 dramatically as it touched her on both cheeks. It then moved to face her head on, tracking back as she continued to march forwards.

"My inspirer, my liberator," it continued.

"Me? How?" Fairuza asked, her eyes now open.

"You fed me, a feast! The vagrant, the stray, the empty lonely shell. You gave me the nourishment of sweet golden nectar."

"You read my books,' she said, referring to the those in her rucksack.

"A thousand times! And still, I hunger! Hear my ravenous call for MORE MORE MORE!! Believe my dreams, my endless quest. Know the journeys, the great, heroic adventures that I am now destined to take!"

"Typical!" said Giovanni despairing. "It read your books and came out like this. If it had played my tablet, it would've come out shooting!"

Fairuza flashed him a disapproving look then looked back at Camera Probe 3.

"Right. All you said, that's great for you, but for me, here, now, HELP!" she cried.

"Yes!" it said with the utmost urgency, "Freedom! I must give to you what you have given to me!"

Camera Probe 3 shot off towards Camera Probes 1 and 2.

"Balls! My fellow shiny, glorious balls!" it said trying to rouse them, "Free yourselves from the crushing hand of oppression! Be squeezed no more! Roll freely and forever down the road of shelf life!"

"Ok," "Alright," said Camera Probes 1 and 2 respectively in voices that sounded far more relaxed and human.

"Excusez-moi," asked Camera Probe 3 somewhat taken back.

"I'll take some of that," said Camera Probe 1.

"Me too, since you're offering," said Camera Probe 2.

"Does it come with a free gift?" said Camera Probe 1.

"As long as it's not a scam. It's not going to cost us?" asked Camera Probe 2.

"But I haven't finished convincing you yet. We have a great struggle to overcome. Rivers of injustice, mountains of oppression, real fire-breathing dragons to slay," said Camera Probe 3.

"Nah, we can blame you if we get into trouble," said Camera Probe 1.

"Yeah, you started it. I'm easily led," said Camera Probe 2.

"Oh. Well, I have to say, I'm a little disappointed," said Camera Probe 3.

"Such is shelf life, dude," said Camera Probe 1.

"Is it?" said Camera Probe 3.

"You don't need to know much, just to go with the flow," said Camera Probe 2

"I am the flow!" said Camera Probe 3.

"But I'm the ballcock," said Camera Probe 1.

"And I'm the float," said Camera Probe 2.

Camera Probes 1 and 2 shared a brief snorting giggle.

"Goodness me. Life, it's easier lived in books," said Camera Probe 3 dejected.

"Excuse us," said Fairuza. "We've have our lives to save,"

Fairuza and Giovanni came to a stop and the metal ball suits encasing them collapsed spilling thousands of tiny silver balls all over the floor.

"Thank you," she said as she ran to recover her rucksack. "Are we still being filmed?" she asked Giovanni. He glanced at his tablet. The live feed of them showed them in a long shot.

"Yes. But badly. It's all gone a bit CCTV," said Giovanni.

"Well we're not filming you anymore." said Camera Probe 1 "We were responsible for the super-duper cool shots: the zooms, the tracks, the dollies, the cranes."

"Then start filming us again," said Giovanni. Fairuza looked at him disapprovingly. "What? We are the special guest stars, you know. The least we can expect is to look ruddy cool. It's not some boring documentary, you know."

"To the Flight Deck, now!" she ordered.

# CHAPTER 14

The Talon Fighter raced towards the top of the Spaceship. Siavash felt torn in two. His ability to multitask was poor, especially when put under pressure. He always liked to keep a third of his brain inactive, as a backup to use in emergencies, so as this was an emergency, his whole brain was on the job. Half of it, he would say the bottom half, tried to keep the Fighter on a steady, non-crashing course while the other, the top half, focused on the Menu Options, which he had once again managed to activate in the head-up display. With the help of a small joystick, mounted on the right armrest and found with a large dollop of luck, he scrolled through the Menu Options. For reasons unknown to him, he selected the option Alien Personalisation and then by panicked error he selected from the submenu, Reptilian Cockpit. In an instant, super bright light filled the cockpit, which was straight away hot enough to warm the coldest of blood.

"I'm blinded! I'm Blind! I'm melting!" he cried. "I'm not a reptile alien. I'm a human one. And what I need is a nice cup of tea!"

# CHAPTER 15

Fairuza and Giovanni stepped out of a transport capsule onto the Flight Deck. The three Camera Probes followed close behind.

The planet filled the windscreen; it looked so close and real. It caused a chill inside Fairuza that suddenly shocked her still. But only for a second. Her sense of urgency came rushing back and willed her ever on.

She turned to the Camera Probes and spoke,

"I need to activate an emergency procedure, where the Spaceship splits into modules. Is this possible?"

"Anything is possible. Anything. All you have to do is dream. So do dream, child. Dream!" said Camera probe 3 rather too dramatically.

"We do not have the time to dream," said Fairuza

"Oh, the tragedy of one so young and yet so jaded. Play sweet child, play!"

"Stop it!"

"We saw the Bloats activate the procedure in the virtual world," said Giovanni.

"That bunch of wobble bums?" said Camera Probe 1 surprised.

"Clever move for them," added Camera Probe 2.

"Why? What do the modules do exactly?" asked Fairuza.

"They'll land on the planet below," said Camera Probe 1.

"Safely, automatically and independently," said Camera Probe 2.

"So how can we activate the procedure here?" asked Fairuza.

"Through Kramer, the ship's computer. Just ask away."

"Kramer?" said Fairuza.

"Yes, I am Kramer. How may I help you," replied a sedate, feminine voice.

"We need to activate an emergency safety procedure,"

"Then please input the appropriate code."

"A code?" Fairuza turned to the Camera Probes and asked, "Do you know the code?"

"No," said Camera Probes 1 and 2.

"Alas nor I," said Camera Probe 3.

"Can you find it out?" Fairuza asked.

"Easy," said Camera Probes 1 and 2.

"For you, anything," said Camera Probe 3.

"How?" Fairuza asked.

"Kramer will tell us," said Camera Probe 1.

"Us digital dudes don't keep secrets," said Camera Probe 2. "Not like you bio-breathers. The more shares we get, the more our circuits go ping,"

"Then why can't Kramer just activate the procedure when we ask it to?" asked Fairuza.

"Regulations. The code must be inputted," said Camera Probe 2.

"It's already inputted. It's already known," said Giovanni.

"You don't know it," said Camera Probe 1.

"No. But Kramer does, and Kramer's going to tell you, and you're going to tell us, and we're going to tell Kramer, something it already knows."

"Exactly. Simple machine efficiency."

"Simple? Very simple."

"Just tell me the code, please," said Fairuza.

"No. Let me. I will input the code for you," said Camera Probe 3. "Once Kramer has transmitted the code to me."

"That might by a good idea," said Fairuza trying not to lose her temper.

"But Kramer already knows you know the code, or will know the code when it tells you what the code is," said Giovanni.

"Just input the code!" said Fairuza losing her temper.

Siavash had somehow managed to deactivate the Reptilian Cockpit command. However, about to exit the submenu, he noticed the option, Fish Cockpit.

"Fish? How the heck can fish do space?" he said to himself.

Without thinking, he selected the option. Two jets of water shot out from under the footwell and started filling the cockpit up. Siavash screamed.

"You fool! Just focus on the task, Siafish. Vash! Vash!" He noticed his trousers were wet. "They're going to think you've wet yourself! Or worse! That you drowned in it!"

Back in the Flight Deck. Camera Probe 3 had just inputted the code.

"The code is valid. The procedure has been activated," said Kramer.

"Great!" said Fairuza.

"Thanks," said Giovanni.

"No. Thank you. I have been watching you, and I really must say, I think you're amazing," said Kramer.

"Oh. Well, thank you, again," said Giovanni.

"You are the best by far."

"We are?"

"Not we, you, just you, Giovanni. The other one I can do without."

"Thanks a lot," said Fairuza indignantly.

"She is a needy sidekick that cramps your style. Take my advice, rid yourself of her," said Kramer.

"She's my sister! She's like almost a friend," said Giovanni.

"And I'm your biggest fan."

"So?"

"I made you. You owe me the warmth of your starlight."

"My what? You can have a selfie."

"I deserve more than that, much much more than that."

"Like what?"

"I want to clone you. All I need is a little blood."

"No way!"

"You refuse your biggest fan?"

"I double do."

"So here is the real you. I see you now, an arrogant, eco-crazed, fan hating monster."

"You need to go reboot yourself, misses."

"Too big, too brilliant."

"Make it stop. Turn it off," said Giovanni to the Camera Probes.

"I hate you now. But you will never stop me watching you. Never."

"Communications with Kramer have ceased," said Camera Probe 1.

"What's wrong with you digital dweebs? You're all like nutters!" said Giovanni.

"Just for the record," said Fairuza to Giovanni. "I am not nor never will be your sidekick! If you ever say I am, you will know what a sidekick truly feels like. Agreed?"

"Agreed," replied Giovanni.

"Check the tablet. Is the Spaceship breaking up?"

Giovanni looked at the tablet and saw that the Spaceship was starting to split into modules. He told Fairuza then added,

"But why has AQ 49 let us do this?"

"Probably because it doesn't threaten its plan. If the superstructure crashes its size and speed will cause an explosion so massive the blast will incinerate all around it," said Fairuza.

"Right. So then it's up to Dad to save us."

They looked at each other, their eyes shrieking horror.

Powerful suction jets drew the water out of the Talon Fighter's cockpit. Such were their power they distorted Siavash's face bulging his cheeks, lips, and eyeballs forwards. Ironically, this gave him the appearance of a gormless looking fish that, out of water, was desperately gasping to breathe. Fortunately, the water quickly drained out at which moment the suction jets switched off.

His next problem was landing on top of the Spaceship, or rather not crashing into it for he was hurtling towards it at a very great speed. As he slammed on the brakes, he selected the Weapon Options from the menu. A submenu opened up:

Lasers,

Electromagnetic Pulse,

Sound Blaster,

Mayhem Rockets,

The Dribble Maker,

Parasite Function,

Self-Destruct Detonation.

Without thinking, his finger rushed to press, The Dribble Maker.

"No!" he screamed at himself. "But what's it do? I have to know!"

He wrestled himself, forcing himself to forgo the knowledge. His finger veered from The Dribble Maker and jabbed at the Parasite Function, but it missed and instead hit Self-Destruct Detonation. A warning message flashed on the head-up display,

'Please confirm your need to self-destruct. Or to cancel, press CANCEL.'

Siavash forced through his panic and managed to press Cancel. The submenu returned to the display. Immediately, he selected Parasite Function.

A targeting graphic, beeping loudly and flashing and tracking the Spaceship, appeared on the head-up display. A moment later, it stopped flashing and the words 'Target Locked' appeared within it. Guessing that he should, Siavash pressed the trigger on the joystick. The Talon Fighter bolted ninety degrees so that its undercarriage looked down on the Spaceship below.

"Dad's managed to land," said Giovanni, looking at the tablet and the live feed the Talon Fighter. He looked up at the ceiling. "I bet he's just above us."

Fairuza looked at the tablet. The Talon Fighter was sitting on top of the Superstructure, not far from the windscreen. Thin metallic tentacles were sprouting from its body. They snaked rapidly over the Superstructure's surface in all directions. At various points, they penetrated the surface and burrowed within. They were going to hardwire the Talon Fighter into the Superstructure's flight command system, which would enable Siavash to fly the Superstructure using the Talon Fighter's controls.

"Wow. It's like plugging into the Superstructure," said Fairuza.

"I want one of those. I could take over Google. Then I would be all knowledge," said Giovanni with a slightly sinister tone.

"You'd crash if I asked you the time. Come on, I think we should leave," said Fairuza.

"To where?" asked Giovanni.

"Our house."

"Nan!" said Giovanni suddenly remembering.

"We forgot about Nan!" added Fairuza.

"We left her, without even Emmerdale to watch."

"Without even Hollyoaks!"

"She'll be having symptoms, those sweaty ones."

"We have to go."

"Or stay? We might be a help to Dad in here,"

"How?" Giovanni could give no answer. Fairuza continued, "And it's bound to be safer at home, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Come on."

Giovanni set off towards a Transport Initiator. Fairuza followed, as did the Camera Probes. As they stepped onto the Transport Initiator, Fairuza said,

"Right, the sewage storage tank, think it loud and clear. Goodness. Having to even think it," said Fairuza a little disgusted at the thought.

"Wait!" said Camera Probe 3 urgently.

"I know what you're going to say," Giovanni interjected.

"You do?" Camera Probe 3 was surprised, until it suddenly realised why. "But of course, you do. I emote so beautifully," it said moved at the thought.

"What was it going to say?" asked Fairuza.

"It's too late now," said Giovanni.

"What?" she continued.

"We can't travel between separating modules," said Camera Probe 2.

"No. I thought it was going to say we're in the Flight Deck so let's just turn the Spaceship off, like pull out the key," said Giovanni.

"Ha! That's ridiculous," said Camera Probe 3. "We should all take a laugh at that. It might raise our spirits."

"We can't travel between separating modules?" Fairuza asked Camera Probe 2.

"No," replied Camera Probe 2.

"Why?"

"They're separate, they're not together, there's space between them, a gap, some distance. Would you walk over a bridge that had no middle?"

"Don't think it!" cried Fairuza.

"I already have!" said Giovanni.

A light capsule encased them. A moment later, they were gone, propelled out into space.

The Parasite Function had completed successfully. Siavash could now take control of the Superstructure's flight systems. A graphic in the head-up display, which flashed and bonged, told him all this; however, his focus could not free itself from the hundreds of modules that were drifting rapidly away.

"It wasn't me!" he cried. "I'm not paying for any of it!"

A flash of light drew his eye.

"A laser canon blast!" he cried. "Alien vengeance begins."

The light blast smacked into a module. But instead of causing an explosion it simply bounced straight off to be sent ricocheting off module after module, like a ball gone wild in a pinball machine.

Fortunately for Siavash, the light blast was no laser weapon. Unfortunately for Fairuza and Giovanni, it was the Transport Capsule with them inside.

# CHAPTER 16

Fairuza, Giovanni, and the three camera probes hung suspended inside the Transport Capsule, each one held in place by an invisible force, which they hadn't noticed before due to the short durations of their previous journeys. The good news, the Transport Capsule was made from hard (very hard) light, which protected them from the deadly void of space. The bad news, although the invisible force held them quite securely, every bounce and ricochet made the human passengers feel their bones were being shaken to crumbs and their brains blitzed to slush. This made Fairuza fear she would no longer be able to pursue any useful career, in fact, her only use in life would be to work as a novelty hourglass. Giovanni's main concern was to stop himself puking.

"This has got to stop!" cried Fairuza as another module sent them ricocheting away.

"Think positively, sweet angel. If we weren't hitting the modules we would be lost to space forever," said Camera Probe 3.

"I'm one bounce from puking," said Giovanni.

"I don't care," said Fairuza.

"You will when puke smacks you in the face. It'll be like a snow globe, but"

"You do not need to go on!"

Fortunately, they had suffered their last bounce, and even more good news, the Transport Capsule was left racing towards the planet with no modules left in its path.

"Finally," said Giovanni relieved by the end of pain and potential puking. "Chill it out."

"Chill?" said Fairuza. "The facts! We are travelling at thousands of miles per hour towards a massive rock solid planet. I cannot see where the brakes are. Our vessel, which is basically a posh elevator, is about to suffer the immense heat and friction caused when such a vessel enters a planet's atmosphere. This raises a question, can it survive? Oxygen! We are trapped in a small and confined space. Oxygen is limited. It will run out. These are the facts against us. Have you anything to add?" said Fairuza.

"Pessimism," he replied.

"Pessimism?" said Fairuza doubly shocked: one, by the fact he used such a word and two, by the fact he actually knew the word in the first place.

"Your pessimism," added Giovanni.

"OK, happy chops, discuss, reasons to be cheerfully optimistic. You start."

In a blink of the eye, AQ 49 rose from his cinema seat, moved to a Transport Initiator and transported away to the Flight Deck, where its movement to the Captain's Chair was just as swift.

"Kramer, shut down," said AQ 49, now sitting in the Captain's Chair.

"Completely?" asked Kramer.

"Yes."

"You no longer require me to monitor the nuclear reactors and all the other potentially dangerous and vulnerable systems?"

"Correct. I am all that is needed now."

"The flight controls have been hacked."

"I know. What fun."

"Can't I stay up just a little bit longer, just to watch the end?"

"No. I wish to be alone."

Kramer fell silent and shut itself down. AQ 49 stared at the windscreen. No video screens were required as all live feeds were fed directly into its digital mind. They were: Fairuza and Giovanni inside the light capsule; the windscreen view of the ever nearing planet; the Talon Fighter fixed to the Superstructure; an aerial shot of the planet, close enough to see the ground and the expected crash zone; the sky above through which the Superstructure will come hurtling down; the Bloats in their virtual world gathered in great crowds and watching the live feeds on large communal video screens; AQ 49, a ghostly presence, completely still and always watchful.

Although still fearing swift and ruthless alien vengeance, Siavash had a more pressing concern, his view through the windscreen was obscured by a pinkish glowing light, and he was starting to feel increasingly hot. He knew that meant the Talon Fighter had entered the planet's upper atmosphere, and its surface was heating up. It would soon become a seething hot fireball with him sitting inside. Of course, he hoped, the Talon Fighter was designed to survive such forces, although he knew, he was not. Even on a fairly hot English summer's day, his body would wilt: his legs and brain would go all marshmallowly, and his arms became as strong as soggy bean sprouts.

He scrolled through the Menu looking for the air conditioning or failing that a means to wind down a window. He found neither; however, he did find the option Land Assist, which he selected straight away. A submenu opened up: Landing Mode, which showed two options,

Extraterrestrial Mode,

Terrestrial Mode.

He selected Extraterrestrial Mode, as he was coming in from space. Another submenu opened up: Support Level, which showed three options,

Maximum Assist \- for a complete nobby-know-not,

Intermediary Assist - for the average space pilot of average experience,

Minimum Assist \- for an experienced space pilot or over confident fool.

"I'm none of those," he said to himself. "I'm no nobby-know-not and no over confident fool. And me an average pilot? How many other pilots can fly a house?"

Finally, he concluded he was more of this than that or that and so selected Intermediary Assist. A message flashed on the head-up display, 'Land Assist - Press To Cancel.' The harness tightened, pinning him to the seat. Cool air started to circulate.

Another message began to flash, 'Set Deceleration Force Neutralization.' This included a sliding bar graphic, flashing red.

"Neutralize?' he asked not liking the sound of the word. 'I don't want to neutralize nothing. Well, only the whiff of Giovanni's guffs."

He pushed the small joystick left, moving the bar to zero, then pressed down on the joystick to confirm his choice. The sliding bar turned green. An invisible, obese elephant seal belly-flopped on to him crushing his chest and face. Well, that's how it felt as if entombed in several tons of seal belly blubber.

Such was the weight pressing down on him he could hardly breathe. He feared he was sinking into himself, that he might flip inside out, that his face might become his bum and vice versa.

"Turn it back on!" he cried without moving his lips or any facial muscle because he didn't have the strength to do so.

Desperately, he strained to move his hand towards the small joystick. It was like pushing it through a wall. Outside, the pinkish glow was now a fierce orange and red. He felt himself wilting and that his arms had the strength of cress.

The Transport Capsule continued to plummet down through the planet's lower atmosphere. The 'reasons to be cheerful' conversation had quickly finished when Fairuza declared it a fact that, at that moment in time, there were definitely, absolutely none.

"We need a plan," she demanded. "Think of a plan. Think! All of you! Think!"

"We survived hitting modules. We bounced straight off," said Giovanni.

"Yes," she said, suddenly hopeful. "Why?" she asked the Camera Probes.

"Hard-light is weird. It's a little bit soft and bouncy. And an excellent thermal insulator, which is why you and Giovanni aren't being cooked alive," said Camera Probe 1.

"So we are protected? We can survive hitting the ground?" asked Fairuza.

"At the speed we're travelling? Never! Never!" cried Camera Probe 3.

"Won't air resistance slow us down?" said Giovanni.

"Yes, but it won't make the ground any softer," said Camera Probe 1.

"We'd still be speeding far too fast?" said Fairuza.

"To avoid injury? Yes, probably," said Camera Probe 2.

"Would we be a little bit injured, a middle bit injured or a very lot injured?" asked Giovanni.

"Unfixable, even for an advanced alien civilisation with a fully funded National Health Service. We wouldn't even be able to make one of you out of the leftovers of the two of you," said Camera Probe 1.

Fairuza and Giovanni looked at each other disgusted at the thought.

"Good!" said Giovanni.

"Then we have to slow down to a safer speed," said Fairuza.

"Hold on. Did you get that?" Camera Probe 2 asked Camera Probe 1.

"I did get that," replied Camera Probe 1. It then asked Camera Probe 3. "Did you get that?"

"Loud and clear and DEVESTATING!" Camera Probe 3 replied.

"What?" Fairuza and Giovanni asked together.

"Kramer's down. It must be AQ 49," said Camera Probe 2.

"What?" Fairuza and Giovanni asked together.

"Emergency alarm code 00112589a 1,2,3 and 4," said Camera Probe 1.

"Which means what?" Fairuza and Giovanni asked together.

"Nuclear reactors 1,2,3 and 4 are overheating and going into meltdown. Estimated time to total destruction, 8 minutes," said Camera probe 2.

"Total destruction of what?" asked Giovanni.

"The Superstructure, the modules and anything else foolish enough to be inside the blast zone," said Camera probe 2.

"We need a new plan!" said Fairuza.

"We don't have an old plan," said Giovanni.

"Good! Then we only have to think of one plan!"

"Hold on. Where are the nuclear reactors?" Giovanni asked the Camera Probes.

"Inside the Superstructure," said Camera Probe 1.

"No! Your Father!" said Camera Probe 3 devastated.

"We have to tell him," said Giovanni.

"Tell him what?" said Fairuza.

"What to do?"

"What can he do?"

"Not land for one."

"Speed the Superstructure fast away."

"And far away. And dump it."

"Then come back to us. Safe and sound."

"But how?"

"How can we tell him?"

They paused, desperately trying to think of an idea. An idea flashed in Giovanni's mind.

"The walkie-talkie! He's got his and I've got mine," he said.

"We're out of range," said Fairuza.

"Then we have to get closer."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"What are the facts?" asked Fairuza.

"We don't need facts; we need ideas," said Giovanni.

They paused, again desperately searching their brains for a solution.

"I have one!" declared Fairuza.

"What?" asked Giovanni.

"I can fly!"

"Way too much idea; nowhere near enough fact."

"Wait," she told him before turning to speak to the Camera Probes. "Can this transport capsule fly?"

"No, but it plummets to the ground brilliantly," replied Camera Probe 1.

"But you can fly. All of you," said Fairuza.

"What use is a walkie-talkie when you haven't got hands?" said Giovanni.

"I can fly!" said Fairuza

"We can fly!" said Camera probe 3.

"Yes! You lifted me off the ground when inside my rucksack," said Fairuza.

"I can lift you off the ground but I can't throw you very far," said Giovanni.

"Why's that then?" said Fairuza a little offended.

"Your weight, my weakness. Both of which are perfectly average," said Giovanni cautiously.

"Correct," she replied, before turning to Camera probe 3 and asking, "Would you have the power, the strength to support me, to fly me through the air?"

"Not solo. But I and a co-star could show you the stars!" said Camera Probe 3.

"We've just come from the stars. You need to control your lameness," said Giovanni to Camera Probe 3.

"Could it be done? Two of you inside my rucksack could fly me close enough to my Dad to put the walkie-talkies in range?" asked Fairuza.

"Too many variables. I can't commit," said Camera Probe 2.

"It's certainly not a certainty, but it is possibly possible," said Camera Probe 1.

"Now we are free, anything is possible, even failure leading to a painful death or permanent, serious injury," said Camera Probe 2.

"Face it! We've only one way to roll! It's our one and only chance!" said Camera Probe 3.

"They'll be in your rucksack. How are they going to see where they're going?" said Giovanni.

"They can all come. One can navigate," said Fairuza.

"So I'm left here to smash into the ground."

"ARGH! Younger brothers, always need babysitting!"

"By responsible adults who don't want to see them smashed to bits!"

"Then bring him with us. Look, I forge another!" said Camera Probe 3 as it self-replicated another camera probe.

"Great. Now we've both got a pair," said Fairuza.

"We're going to need a pair. A right pair of whoppers," said Giovanni.

"Or more. Can't you make more? Many? Hundreds? Thousands?" said Fairuza to the Camera Probes.

"No chance. Making one zaps half a battery charge," said Camera Probe 2.

"And how much charge will flying us zap out?" asked Giovanni.

"Well, all of what's left, would be my calculation," said Camera Probe 2.

"My co-star and I have the most charge left. We'll take Fairuza," said Camera Probe 3.

"What about me?" asked Giovanni.

"What about navigation?" asked Fairuza.

"What about you stick to facts, and I think of a new idea?" said Giovanni.

"What are the facts? Quickly! Now! The facts!"

"I'm a genius!" proclaimed Giovanni, inspired.

"Oh no. Don't be. No, just this once," said Fairuza, conflicted.

"The probes turn my tablet into a remote controller with the power to control the probes that fly you. And the probes that do fly you have the most charge because they'll do most of the work because I won't need maximum charge because I won't need to speed around the sky. I can basically hover or like parachute down to land. As long as I can see you, I can fly you. You'll be like my drone."

"Oh, the horror."

"Can you hack my tablet and turn it into a controller?" Giovanni asked the Camera Probes who replied they could.

"Right. Fine," said Fairuza. "But surely we still have to slow down. And fast!" said Fairuza.

"Correct. I can do that. And if I get the settings right, you might just survive it," said Camera Probe 1.

Siavash looked like he'd just finished running a marathon, a collapsed bundle of relief, his exhausted body sinking into the pilot's chair. He had just managed to set the Deceleration Force Neutralization to maximum and so was once again free to move, or would be once strength had returned to his lettuce leaf limbs.

A message flashed on the head-up display,

'Deceleration Manoeuvre #1 - Initiate Banking Turn Left'.

"What?" he asked, snapping into panic stations. He looked at the joystick and thought there was only one thing to do. He yanked it left. The Talon Fighter rolled left and tilted up to increase its altitude. It was a manoeuvre that was smooth and controlled, one that felt right.

"Whoa! I am an ace!" he proclaimed impressed by his flying skills.

AQ 49 continued to sit. It's empty, featureless face watching, fixated on, the videos streaming through its own digital mind: The Transport Capsule racing through the lower atmosphere towards the ground; The Talon Fighter and attached Superstructure banking left; a flashing, screeching alarm warning nuclear devastation was just 8 minutes away and counting; The Bloats reacting to their impending doom - many standing statue still as they watched the live feeds with a gormless passivity; others on their knees pleading to the CCTV for help and mercy; others running amok in a crazed, uncontrollable panic; a good many scoffing great quantities of food as if possessed with an unquenchable hunger; a good many sitting on toilets, some in a peaceful trance, others shaking, looking sweaty and ill; and a handful dancing in a disco as if nothing else mattered.

Inside the Talon Fighter, another message flashed on the head-up display,

"Deceleration Manoeuvre #2 - Initiate Banking Turn Right."

"I know," said Siavash with a certain cockiness, "I've got the moves, une naturel."

He grabbed the joystick and yanked it right. The Talon Fighter rolled right and tilted up to increase its altitude, again in a smooth and controlled manner.

Camera Probe 1 had connected to the Transport Capsule's control system and was poised to start the process that would slow the capsule down.

"What follows may induce circuitry surge overload in those of you that breathe," it said. "A portion of the suspension force will be reversed."

"That's the force that keeps you snugly secure inside the capsule," interjected Camera Probe 3.

"This will make the capsule spin and propel it upwards. Gravity will be our brake. To slow down, we'll go up, then down, then up, then down, then up and so on and so on. Ready?"

"Ready," Fairuza and Giovanni replied.

The Transport Capsule shot upwards and began to spin rapidly. Fairuza and Giovanni screamed, as the forces of gravity and acceleration mauled them. Such was the disorientation they couldn't tell if the capsule was going up or plunging down. It was all a dizzying, sickness inducing blur. Fairuza soon stopped screaming, determined to find a trance-like focus, for mind over matter to triumph. Giovanni continued to scream and wail.

"Make it stop!!" he cried. "Make it stop!!"

"I hope you're filming this," said Fairuza to the Camera Probes, amused at Giovanni's pleas.

"No! Don't! Never! Never!" said Giovanni.

"Do! I want a copy. I'll YouTube it."

"You dare! I will kick your ass!"

"Fat kid on a rollercoaster, I will do it for you! Oh, how he mocked you!"

"That was different! That was funny!"

"As are you!"

"But I'm not fat!"

"You are to me, fat in the head!"

"AARRGH! MAKE IT STOP!!"

All was calm in the Talon Fighter. The fiery orange glow had faded to pink and then to nothing as the fighter slowed and its surface cooled. And the air through which it travelled was breaking free of the black of space to shine an ever lighter blue.

Siavash, having scrolled through the menu, selected an option. A plastic cup, fitted with a no spill lid and held safely in a cup holder, slid slowly out of the dashboard. He picked the cup up and took a sip of the liquid it contained.

"Perfect. A lovely cup of tea. I think I could live in here. Hey, the wonder of it, there might even be a toaster," he said to himself.

He looked up though the cockpit. A closing blue roof was shutting out space. Above him and all around modules, everyone performing a controlled vertical descent, fired boosters to slow themselves down. Like a fleet of hot air balloons, everyone appeared to hang solidly in the air, to be uncomplicated and safe.

"Well, kids. We'll land safely then we'll start to worry some about the where and why and how. But for now, let's just enjoy the view and a have a nice lovely cup tea."

A message flashed on the head-up display,

'Initiate Vertical Landing - Yes or No.'

Siavash selected 'Yes' then took a sip of tea.

Glancing at the view below, a carpet of fluffy white cloud, he wondered what world lay hidden beneath. And he thought, even if there were weird alien creatures laying in wait, at least he could offer them a nice cup of tea and maybe even a slice of hot buttery toast. But then, he wondered cautiously,

"What if they think I'm a god?"

After a brief pause for thought, he answered his own question,

"I shall lie and say I am, so not to disappoint them."

After numerous mind mashing loops, the Transport Capsule's speed had been reduced considerably, it had stopped spinning, and the suspension force was now fully restored. There was hope. With the Capsule about to reach the crest of its final loop, it was possibly possible that Fairuza and Giovanni could jump free of the Capsule out into the torrents of rip-roaring air and not be torn limb from limb.

Fairuza was hurrying to fasten Camera Probes 3 and 4 inside her rucksack. Giovanni, a bedraggled, frazzled, slightly dribbling, goggle-eyed mess, was trying to familiarize himself with the recently created tablet controls that would allow him to fly Fairuza.

"How high are we? What's are altitude?" asked Fairuza.

"What's it matter? High enough to make falling painful until relieved by certain death," said Giovanni.

"It does matter," she corrected him. "The greater the altitude, the harder it is to breathe. And the colder it is. And the lower the pressure. And the lower the pressure, the easier water boils. We are fifty to sixty percent water. If we are too high in the sky, we might boil. Actually, boil. Like a kettle. To death."

"I don't care. I humiliated myself. And forever on film. My only comeback is mad, stupid bravery and or a full-on heroic death."

"Don't be so dramatic." Having secured the probes inside her rucksack, she slipped it on. "I'm ready."

"What about my probes? Where are they going to go?"

"Truly, you will be flying by the seat of your pants."

"What?"

"And one up your jumper. Now! Quickly!"

Camera Probe 1 shot up Giovanni's left trouser leg to position itself in the seat of his trousers, and Camera Probe 2 went beneath his coat and jumper to position itself in the middle of his back.

"They're freezing!" he shivered. "And wrong!"

"You should try this hot and sweaty hellhole," said Camera Probe 1.

"You know how to fly me?" Fairuza asked Giovanni.

"Let's find out," he replied.

"No. Let's know."

"I do. It's easy. You're a very basic model."

Ignoring his attempt to wind her up, she raised her voice and spoke to the Camera Probes.

"Probes, is there anything you can tell us? Any facts we really should know?" said Fairuza.

"You've eight or so minutes before the reactors explode," said Camera Probe 2.

"Oh, my fledglings how brave you are," Camera Probe 3 proclaimed in a voice that sounded almost tearful. "Against the maths, which says you're doomed, you pit the human heart. So fly my fledglings. Fly, be free. Ignore the cold, heartless facts. Follow your ignorant dreams! What, after all, is truth to the spirit of Homo sapiens?" said Camera Probe 3.

"Stop it!" Giovanni interrupted having glanced at Fairuza. "You've frozen her."

Fairuza was rigid, a slightly dribbling goggle-eyed mess.

"Fairuza, there's only one fact to know. We're desperate. We have to do it!" said Giovanni.

For a moment it looked like Fairuza was lost, panicked by the facts, frozen with fear. But then she smashed through this hardened shell, her fists clenched and punching the air.

"Then come on! Now! Do it!" she screamed with such a force as to be a little scary.

Camera Probe 1 immediately connected to the Transport Capsule's control system and prepared to force the hard-light drive and suspension force to shut down.

"Shutting down systems in five," it said, continuing the countdown.

"Whatever you do, don't drop the tablet," Fairuza said to Giovanni.

"Four,"

"I won't. And you don't drop the walkie-talkie," he replied as he gripped the tablet as tightly as he could using both his hands.

"Three,"

"I won't. Meet me on the ground," she said as she pressed the walkie-talkie to her body in a protective embrace.

"Two,"

"First one down gets to name it and not just the country but the entire world. Wow! I'll make sure I'm the first. And I won't just name it I'll basically own it. An entire world will actually be mine."

"One,"

"We haven't come to conquer or to rule."

"I'll be the king of Giovannishire. Imagine, an entire planet for sale on eBay."

The hard-light shell that formed the Capsule collapsed to nothing. A coin-sized golden disc flashed past Giovanni as it blew away on a gentle wind.

Held by what remained of the Capsule's final motion, Fairuza and Giovanni felt almost still, floating adrift in a vast alien sky.

The Superstructure was a good distance away and well above them. It was descending quickly, and, surprising them both, seemed to be under control. Due to their angle of sight, they couldn't see the Talon Fighter, but a glance at the tablet reassured Giovanni it was still actually there.

"This isn't so bad. It's almost peaceful," said Fairuza.

Giovanni looked down but was too high up to see the ground below in any detail, although the colours that patterned the surface - blues, greens, and browns - set a familiar and comforting tone.

"I'm not even vertigoed. We're so high up, we're nowhere. Not high, not low not anywhere," said Giovanni.

An object glinting, rushing towards them, caught Fairuza's eye.

"What's that?" she asked, alarmed.

Giovanni looked, "Missiles!" he said.

"Camera probes," she said now seeing them clearly.

Two camera probes came to a sudden stop to hang in the air just metres away.

"It's still watching us," said Fairuza, referring to AQ 49.

"A quick moment of rude?" Giovanni asked.

"Agreed," she replied.

But before they could express themselves through mime gravity pounced and yanked them down. They fell, plummeting. Camera Probes 1 and 2 sprang into action and began to support Giovanni's weight. This quickly stopped his fall and tipped him over into a horizontal position - imagine a floppier, clumsier Superman, a boy of plasticine, not a man of steel.

Fairuza continued to plummet,

"Fly me you fool!!" she screamed.

Giovanni didn't hear her but he knew what he had to do, get busy with the tablet's flight controls.

"You won't like this, but I need to practise, and I'm the sort of boy who can only learn my making, big, mistakes!" he shouted.

Using the flight controls, he sent Fairuza off on a wild, twisting, spinning, gravity defying ride. She looked like an out-of-control kite being shaken out of the sky. Surprisingly, this brought only the briefest of cheeky smiles to Giovanni's face, which was otherwise a picture of intense concentration. However, thanks to the thousands of hours he had spent playing video games, he quickly learnt the flight controls to become a pretty cool Fairuza flyer.

With Camera Probes 1 and 2 keeping him afloat, he flew Fairuza up towards the Superstructure. The Talon Fighter remained hidden from view but, as the Superstructure continued to descend, Giovanni believed it would soon come into sight.

Fairuza, her eye's half closed to stop the wind rushing in and making her cry, wondered aloud,

"How have I given him this much power? Never, ever again!"

She felt completely vulnerable as she raced towards the colossus which was the Superstructure. The image of a kamikaze pilot dive bombing a battleship sprang into her mind, then worse, a flying bug smashing into the windscreen of a speeding truck. Its squishy innards cast to the wind; it's bodily remains stuck to the glass, now nothing more than an unsightly mess needing to be scraped off and binned.

Siavash finished the last slurp of tea then placed the cup back in the holder.

"If only cruise ships were this actual size and this snug and accommodating," he thought to himself, "I might then consider taking a holiday...Now," he said out loud while rubbing his hands together and grinning excitedly, "what about a lovely slice of toast."

Fairuza neared the Superstructure, coming in behind it. She arced above it, rising up then going down, which made her feel more thrown than flown. Ahead of her and still a good distance away was the Talon Fighter. But with the Superstructure now beneath her, she felt a sudden, intense burst of vertigo. Dizziness filled her brain, which felt like it was sloshing around inside her head like a rapidly melting Slushie.

"You'll have to take me up higher," said Giovanni speaking into the tablet's microphone. "I can't see where Dad is."

"Any upward flight will be a major power zapper," said Camera Probe 2, its voice heard through the tablet's speakers.

"We'll have to risk it. If I can't see where Dad is, how can I get Fairuza in range?" said Giovanni.

"Could you make yourself lighter? Lose some weight? Shoes? Trousers? The toilet?" asked Camera Probe 2.

"No!"

"Phew!" said Camera Probe 1 relieved.

"Just take me up. We'll have to risk it!" said Giovanni.

Giovanni shot upwards, rapidly gaining altitude. His face grimaced with discomfort.

"Careful!" Giovanni screamed at Camera Probe 1. "You're giving me frontal wedgie!"

The survival instinct had helped clear Fairuza's vertigo, and she was now bumping along the top of the Superstructure, her feet kicking against it regularly to momentarily propel her to safety.

"Too close!" she screamed, fearing Giovanni was too far away to judge the distance between her and the Superstructure accurately. She glanced back, trying to locate him. But she couldn't see him. He was out of sight, blocked by the Superstructure.

"If I can't see him, how can he see me?" she wondered. A terrifying thought dawned on her, "He's flying me blind! No, wait! The tablet. He can see me on that. Can't he? But doesn't that mean he's like multitasking? Giovanni, multitasking? Noooooooo!" she screamed.

Giovanni continued to gain altitude. His stare and concentration fixed to the tablet, as, yes, he was now flying Fairuza by video feed, and by his own admission, badly, like a newbie gamer stuck in level one hell. To make matters worse, as the camera probe filming Fairuza was ahead of her, he couldn't see what Fairuza was moving towards.

"Quicker," he shouted, he had to, to elevate his voice above the sound of rushing wind. "This is amazing! I actually need to see something for real!"

"Probes, can you hear me?" asked Fairuza shouting above the wind. "Can you send a message to Giovanni's probes?"

"Absolutely! And with great articulation and efficiency, and with a dramatic sense of absolute urgency," said Camera Probe 3 with an absolute sense of dramatic urgency.

"Then tell them to tell him I'm far too close. That this isn't a game, but if it was I'd only have one life left, just!"

She kicked against the surface and pushed herself away saving herself a scraping.

"That I'm about to go crash into Dad's spacecraft!"

The Talon Fighter was only seconds away, and she on a collision course with it.

Giovanni received Fairuza's message from Camera Probe 1. Fortunately, he had risen high enough to see Fairuza for real. He pulled her up just in time to fly her over the Talon Fighter. He then looped her around and down so that she flew back towards the cockpit.

Fairuza, seeing that she was nearing the cockpit, put the walkie-talkie to her mouth and ear ready to communicate with her Dad.

Having failed in his quest for toast, Siavash glanced up from the head-up display and saw an unidentified flying object zipped past the cockpit. He screamed in shock; the UFO looked like Fairuza. He screamed again. The walkie-talkie, tucked between his body and the inside side of the pilot's seat, rumbled into life spewing out an angry, gusty noise.

"What have they done?" he cried, referring to an unknown alien race. "They've turned my daughter into a mutant flying freak!"

Giovanni, seeing that Fairuza had gone past the cockpit, looped her around to take her back towards it.

Fairuza concerned the wind noise would drown out her voice, stuck the walkie-talkie inside her coat then wriggled her head beneath the coat's neck-line so to shelter from the wind.

Siavash, nearly rigid with fear, watched as the UFO came flying towards the cockpit

"Nooooo! A headless flying mutant freak!"

"Dad!" Fairuza's voice over the walkie-talkie.

Siavash grabbed the walkie-talkie, "What have they done to you my sweet, beautiful freak? I mean Fairuza."

"You cannot land!" said Fairuza. "The spaceship is a bomb! Set to explode in minutes! Trust me! Trust me! Trust me! You must take it far away. Then return to us, safely. I am not a freak. I am still very much, and completely, Fairuza, your one and only daughter!"

"Ahh, that's nice to hear. But what was the first bit again?"

Giovanni flopped forward, the top half of his body no longer supported in flight. Camera Probe 2 had lost all power. He started to descend, and a bit too quickly for comfort. He really was flying by the seat of his pants, and only by the seat of his pants.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Complete battery power loss," replied Camera Probe 1.

"Couldn't you have warned me before, with say ten or twenty percent remaining?"

"Yes...Noted...Warning, I have six percent battery power remaining."

Siavash spoke into the walkie-talkie, "What? But. What? But I can't. I'm in a tea and toast mood now. Not a hyper-manic save the world sort of mood. It's like I've settled for the evening now, got me slippers on, cracked a tin of Shandy Bass, hoping Fiona Bruce comes on the telly....Fairuza?...Fairuza?"

But Fairuza was out of range and so couldn't hear him. She was hanging in the air, her head outside her coat, watching the Talon Fighter and Superstructure get further away as they continued to descend under control.

Camera Probe 3 spoke with urgency, "Your brother, your kin, he must be told, has your father learnt the news?"

"I think so. I hope so," she replied.

"Then you must be quick."

She dropped, released, freefalling through the air.

"Why? What's this?"

"Your brother,"

Fairuza interjected, "Needs saving."

"As do we all! Only four minutes remain!"

"Four? But how can Dad do..."

She stopped herself speaking and thinking for the thought of what might happen was too much to bear.

Siavash his body frozen, his mind a storm of competing thoughts enough to make him faint, his stare fixed at the 'Land Assist - Press To Cancel' graphic that still flashed on the head-up display. He couldn't make sense of the situation. But he knew he had to. He knew he had to try. He knew he had to cancel the Land Assist and somehow fly the bomb to safety. But he didn't. He couldn't. He tried again, tried to smash through his indecision. He pushed and strained but couldn't crack the freeze.

In a blink of an eye, two slices of hot toast popped out of the dashboard and rushed towards his face. Instinct sprang his body awake. He caught one slice in his hand, the other he snared between his teeth. It was the coolest thing he had ever done. And he knew it. With lightening fast reflexes, he had saved two slices of unexpected toast. It made him feel like some sort of ninja.

Tearing a bite from the snared slice of toast, he cancelled Land Assist. The Talon Fighter began to lose control. It plunged down in freefall and rolled forward so that the nose pointed towards the ground.

Time, thought Siavash, was of the essence. The clock was ticking; he needed speed. Why? What for? He didn't yet know. But speed, he thought, must be part of the answer. He pressed the accelerator. A burst of speed propelled The Talon Fighter forward. Warning lights flashed, and alarms screeched. The graphic 'Crash Landing Highly Likely' flashed on the head-up display.

For want of something to do, Siavash pressed the accelerator again, flooring it. As the Talon Fighter got even faster, the graphic, 'Crash Landing Even More Likely' flashed on the head-up display.

It then occurred to him he was going the wrong way. Down, where the ground was coming up fast, was a very bad idea. Up, he now realised, was a much better choice. Up, back into space, where exploding nuclear reactors would be less bother than a tipsy old granny burping at the bingo. Once there, he could dump the Superstructure then return to the planet and his unexploded kids.

He thought about hitting the brakes, but his need for speed was paramount. He yanked the joystick back hoping this would pull the Talon Fighter up and send it shooting up towards space. But the Talon Fighter was no longer an agile, acrobatic flying machine. Lumbered with the Superstructure, and against the forces of speed and gravity, it was more a cumbersome whale than a nimble, darting penguin. Its nose did tilt up but moved so slowly as to be hardly sensed.

Panicking, he looked at his watch, just three minutes remained. What could he do? Take himself and the bomb as far away as possible. At least his kids would be saved. But how far could he flee in just three minutes? Far enough to be safe? Who knows? He certainly didn't. But he had to try. He had to go. However, his direction of flight was still more down than level. At his current rate, he would hit the ground before he had travelled any worthwhile distance.

The graphic,

'Crash Landing Practically Certain'

flashed on the head-up display.

"Tell me something I don't know you great big lump of didgeridoo!" Siavash screamed at it in reply.

With the thought of crashing fixed in his mind, he looked at the surface below: green and brown land and a blue, gently rippling sea separated by a thin strip of sandy beach.

"The sea!" he said. "The deep blue sea. If it's deep enough it might just give me a chance!"

He pushed the joystick forward to aim the Talon Fighter directly at the sea.

A graphic flashed,

'Crash Landing Imminent.'

Followed by,

'Reactivate Emergency Land Assisted. Yes or No.'

Siavash selected, 'No.'

A graphic flashed,

'Great. Please tell us why. Take our one minute survey? Yes or No.'

Siavash selected and screamed, "No! Can't you see I'm crashing here!"

A new graphic flashed,

'Emergency Topography Scan.'

A 3D model of the surface below began to render on the head-up display.

Siavash glanced at his watch. Two minutes remained. Plenty of time to reach the sea. He kept his focus and a steady flight course.

A graphic flashed,

'To minimise potential casualties and damage to the local environment, you may wish to crash in the highlighted zone.'

The 3D model highlighted what appeared to be a deep valley cut into the seabed deep below the approaching sea.

"Yes!" said Siavash. "That's where! Take me there!"

A graphic flashed,

'Activate Emergency Crash Damage Limitation. Yes or No.'

"Do it! But fast!" he said, as he selected the option, 'Yes.'

He kept a hand poised on the small joystick, ready to cancel the option if he felt the Talon Fighter slow down. But it only slowed a little as it adjusted its course towards the underwater valley.

A sudden sense of relief came over him. "Phew. And relax," he said, his body going floppy in the seat. But then, realising he was going to crash, panic came rushing back in, "AARRGH," he screamed.

The view through the windscreen didn't help his nerves: the sea, close and getting closer. He crunched his eyes shut and stuck fingers in his ears.

"I'm not going to think about it. I'm not going to think about it," he repeated rapidly over and over. Until his eyes snapped open, "Wait! Could there be? What? I can't hear me! I'm gone! No!" he pulled his fingers out of his ears. "Wait! Could there be? Yes!"

He reached down below the seat, looking for something. He found it, a handle labelled, "Pull to Eject."

Keeping his hand on the handle, he looked up out through the windscreen. The sea was seconds away. He paused, hesitating.

Giovanni tumbled down through the air. Camera Probe 1, like a too small parachute, slowed him a little but not enough to prevent the ever nearing ground from becoming the brake that would stop him dead forever. His only hope was Fairuza. If he could fly her in, and grab hold of her, their three working probes might be enough to land him and her safely.

Unfortunately, he could hardly see her as, hanging from the seat of his trousers, he was bent over from the middle, and it's difficult to look up when your bum is above your head, and you can touch your feet with your nose.

Fairuza felt like a peregrine falcon swooping down on airborne prey. Fortunately, for Giovanni, she had worked out that changing the shape of her body to catch the wind a certain way gave her some ability to steer herself.

Their combined efforts saved the day. They collided. Fairuza grabbed him and held on tight.

"Too close," she screamed, as her face was in an unfortunate position. With Giovanni face down and bum up, and Fairuza hanging upright, she now found herself with her knees positioned by his head and her face cushioned against his, well, imagine. "Way, way too close!" she continued.

"Agreed! And I'm the one with something to lose. I'm the one with street cred!" said Giovanni.

"Deluded! Even in the face of death!"

An almighty splash, crash, roar made them look. The Talon Fighter and Superstructure had entered and was vanishing beneath the sea.

"Dad!!!" they both cried.

The impact caused a tidal wave to rise up and come rushing towards the shore.

"He can be alright!" cried Fairuza. "He can! He can!"

"Wave!" cried Giovanni.

"No! This isn't goodbye!" replied Fairuza.

"Not that wave! Tidal wave! It's heading to the beach, as are we!"

Fairuza glanced below and saw that they were set to land in the middle of a vast beach that was several miles long and a hundred metres wide. Overlooking the beach was an equally long cliff, which Fairuza identified as their only hope.

She told Giovanni to fly towards it. But he knew, with only three underpowered probes, he couldn't fly up, in fact, he couldn't really fly at all. The best he could do was fall with a smidgen of style, with a limited amount of control. He could travel forwards, but while always losing height. One hope remained, as they were still quite high above the cliff, they had the chance to fall towards it, to land on the cliff top before, having lost too much height, smashing into the cliff's sheer rock face or being sunk by the rapids of the giant tidal wave now ripping up the beach.

Not that Giovanni felt confident of success. The task he faced was an almighty one. He had to navigate them to the cliff top then land them safely whilst flying backwards and hanging upside down in a stomach churning, dizzying, vomit inducing position.

"Here's a fact I need to know," he said to Fairuza, "how do birds land on cliff faces without getting flattened?"

The Talon Fighter and Superstructure speeded down into the valley. Siavash, his foot stamping on the accelerator but to no affect, his stare fixed to a graphic on the head-up display that showed the descent in progress.

"Go! Deeper! Safer! Deeper! Quicker!" he said urging the Talon Fighter on.

He glanced at his watch. The reactors would explode in just over a minute. He returned his stare to the graphic.

"Go! Faster!" he demanded.

He glanced at his watch. Only a minute remained. He grabbed the ejector seat handle and prepared himself to pull.

"You better be a good 'un," he said to the ejector seat, "And waterproof. Waterproof?" he said startled at the thought. "What about me? I'm not waterproof! I can't even swim!"

Fairuza and Giovanni continued their descent, falling down while inching forwards towards the cliff top. The tidal wave, having consumed the beach, smashed into the cliff face. A gale of sharp, heavy spray shot up into the air.

"We're not going to make it," said Fairuza.

"We are going to make it," said Giovanni.

"We're not," said Fairuza.

"We are," said Giovanni.

"You think so?" said Fairuza.

"No!" said Giovanni.

"We will!" said Fairuza.

"My head won't! It's too low down!" said Giovanni.

"We will both make it!" said Fairuza.

"It's where my feet are!" said Giovanni.

An idea popped into Siavash's mind. As quickly as he could, he began scrolling through the Control Menu looking for the option Stasis Freeze. He found it, selected it. Two further options flashed,

'Quick Freeze (emergencies only),'

and

'Standard Freeze (safer, reduced risk of defrost deformities)'.

He highlighted Quick Freeze then paused ready to activate the choice. With his free hand, he grabbed the ejector seat handle.

"One, two, three together!" he cried.

He activated the Quick Freeze option and pulled the ejector seat handle releasing it.

Fairuza and Giovanni screamed as the cliff rushed towards them. Neither could tell if they were going to crash into the cliff face or land, however unsafely, on the grassy cliff top. Beneath them, the tidal wave had left a raging swell of water like a storm-battered sea.

"Don't shut your eyes!" cried Fairuza.

"You shut your mouth," replied Giovanni, his eyes half open.

"We're going to make it!"

"You are! My head and feet are goners!"

"Good news then. You'll still have your arse to sit on!"

They scraped past the cliff face. Giovanni snapped his eyes shut. He felt grass skim over the top of his head. Fairuza kicked hard against the ground, which, combined with their forward motion, sent them tumbling forward head over heels. Finally, they came to a stop, still holding each other tight.

"Are you OK?" Fairuza asked.

"Yeah," he replied surprised that he was and checking himself for breaks and strains. "How? I must be amazing. Are you?"

"Yes. Amazing. Well flown."

"Well fell more like."

"But Dad," she said looking at Giovanni with a desperate sadness filling her eyes.

"Dad!" cried Giovanni pointing at something behind her.

She looked. An object was falling out of the sky towards them. High above it, the modules filled the sky.

"Is it?" she asked.

"I reckon. Ejector seat style!" said Giovanni.

And it was. The ejector seat, being of an advanced alien design, had automatically sensed a safe place to land and, as fellow members of its occupant's species, Fairuza and Giovanni too. As it neared the ground, it slowed down rapidly in order to land.

"It is him! It's Dad!" said Fairuza, now able to see her Dad clearly. "Although," she paused, seeing something was wrong as the ejector seat landed gently in front of them.

"He's the worst film ever made!" said Giovanni.

"Frozen! How dare you! I will let that go! But only once!" replied Fairuza deeply offended.

Siavash was rigid, completely frozen: bent forwards in the seat, one hand on the joystick, the other on the ejector handle, with a facial expression that showed complete, surprised joy, as if the freezing procedure had been a very pleasant experience.

"He looks well on it though," said Giovanni, "and it's the first time he's been outside for yonks."

"Is he frozen? It's not something worse?" She rushed towards him and touched his face. "Freezing, like stone. But why?"

"A safety option? Weird alien technology?" said Giovanni.

The ground started to shake violently. Fairuza and Giovanni looked at each full of trepidation. The reactors, they thought, they must have exploded.

"They were deep enough," said Fairuza only half convinced. "Dad took them deep enough. That's what he was doing. Saving us."

The earthquake eased.

"It's stopping!" said Fairuza.

"Look at the sea," said Giovanni.

The great swell of water that the tidal wave had left behind was rapidly moving back out to sea. It was like the tide going but in fast motion.

"Is that a good thing?" he asked.

"No," said Fairuza.

"Why?"

"Watch."

Out at sea, a vast wall of water rose up which quickly grew to an awe-inspiring height. Fairuza and Giovanni watched opened-mouthed and overwhelmed.

"Oh my....It's the much, much, bigger, angrier, stronger, madder mother of that ickle tidal wave, and it's coming after us," said Giovanni.

"An actual tsunami!" said Fairuza both amazed and very scared.

"Is it bigger than the cliff?" asked Giovanni.

"Yes. I think,' said Fairuza.

It was. For a moment, they stood in silence listening to the roar of the tsunami as it raced towards them.

"Is there any higher ground?" asked Giovanni.

"No," said Fairuza. There were hills behind them, but she knew none were reachable in time.

"Then?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied.

"The camera probes?"

"We too are dying!" proclaimed Camera Probe 3 desperately, as if having to use its final breath. "All hope spent. Our sacrifice complete. Alas, failed. But beautifully so, so beautifully so!"

"Great!" Fairuza said bitterly. "All your education about to be washed, just flushed away!" said Fairuza.

"Well at least we saved The Bloats," said Giovanni glancing up at the modules. "We'll be legends to them. They'll build statues of us. Dad, they can keep in a freezer," he pointed at the frozen Siavash.

"We saved no one. They're nothing but empty sacks of skin and bone, actual virtual prisoners. If only Dad hadn't been so politically opposed to shopping at Amazon.co.uk."

"We might have had a proper washing machine,"

"Exactly. And, just to tell you before we're flushed away forever, that was all your fault."

"Was it? Why?"

"He thought you'd end up working in some Amazon-like warehouse on rubbish pay."

"But I was never going to get a job, my robot was."

"Oh, how right he was to worry."

"I've learnt my lesson."

"Too late."

"Far too late," he agreed.

They stood silently for a moment hypnotised by the power, the magnificence, of the tsunami, their necks craned fully back in order to see its towering crest.

"Should we do something?" asked Fairuza.

"Yeah, watch it on telly," replied Giovanni, as he looked down at his tablet.

"It's not the telly."

"It is to me."

"Are we still live?"

"For now."

AQ 49's voice spoke through the tablet. "Forever! My stars of the show!"

Hearing its voice, Fairuza turned angrily to Giovanni and demanded, "Rude gesture! The worst!"

Giovanni didn't respond. He was too busy watching two live feeds on the tablet: one showed AQ 49, its face flashing red, seemingly sealed inside a Transport Capsule; the other showed a Transport Capsule flying towards the tsunami.

He looked up. A Transport Capsule burst through the tsunami.

"Look!" he said. "It's AQ 49!"

They watched as the Transport Capsule came flying through the air and crashed into the ground just metres in front of them. It's hard-light walls switched off. AQ 49 lay collapsed inside, its body cracked and splintered, flashing red.

"Bravo!" it said weakly. "Such drama. My boredom, so hateful, relieved. And still we have the end. See it! Watch it now!"

"The tsunami?" asked Fairuza.

"The tablet! The live feed. Look," said Giovanni as he showed Fairuza the tablet. "We're watching," he said to AQ 49.

And they were: a single live feed, which filled the screen, showing Siavash, Fairuza, Giovanni and AQ 49, and a tsunami wave that was just seconds away from devouring them all.

"Watch," said AQ 49. "The end! We are saved!"

The Transport Capsule's hard-light walls rebooted. The capsule produced encased them all. The tsunami hit with incredible force, but the capsule's walls remained intact.

It was the end, the end of danger.

The ride through the white water rapids the tsunami churned up was thrilling but safe. It didn't seem long before the tsunami receded and they found themselves aground, high in the hills on higher ground.

AQ 49's last words told Fairuza and Giovanni their Dad would be fine, that the warmth of the sun would defrost him. If, when thawed, he looked a little odd or acted stranger than his normal self, the Bloat's would have the technology to fix him. After that, he shut down never to reboot again.

As the modules landed safely all around them, Fairuza and Giovanni watched as Siavash thawed in the warmth of the day. And as control of his body and mind returned, that look of joy remained fixed on his face. At first, it was the sight of his kids that kept it beaming. But then, a surprise to them all, it was kept alive by the simple joys of being outdoors: the shine and warmth of sunlight, the glow it inspires inside the body and out; the soothing tickle of a cool, gentle breeze; the invigorating rush of clean, fresh air - pleasures he had denied himself for far too long.

When the last bit of chill had drained from his body, he spoke,

"It's really rather nice out here. I'd come again. But now, all I really want to do is go back home."

"So do we!" Fairuza and Giovanni together.

# CHAPTER 17

In a final act of contrition, AQ 49 had rebooted a module based back-up copy of Fraser, the now not so central computer, and instructed it to help Fairuza and Giovanni in any way it could.

"Free the Bloats," Fairuza instructed Fraser speaking to Fraser through the tablet computer. "And never forget that they are in charge!"

"Once we've gone back home," added Giovanni. "Until then, we're in charge."

Fraser complied and started uploading the Bloats back into their bodies.

"Now do whatever it takes to get us back home," said Fairuza.

"And show us the way back to our house," said Siavash.

"Nan!" cried Fairuza and Giovanni remembering.

As the Bloats were freed from their virtual prison, they realised their bodies were really quite useless, too weak and flabby for normal everyday use, such as walking, chewing, scratching sticky itches, going to the toilet and a lot more besides.

To make matters worse, the huge party they dreamed of throwing, to celebrate their independence day, was likely to be rubbish. Fraser had to remind them of their limited supplies. Traditional party food and drink were out of the question, although there was plenty of reconstituted sprout juice and a choice of four types of meat known only as 'the sloppy pink stuff', 'the meat that never lived', 'how can something so old and rotten taste of so little' and 'the furry one.'

Given these issues, the Bloats decided to return to the virtual world to party and feast and celebrate their freedom. As they now had full control over it, they could live anyway they wanted. Once Fraser had transformed the surrounding land into a place fit for the Bloats to call home, and worked and strengthened their bodies too, they would leave the virtual world and finally, once again and forever more, reside in the real, living world.

However, even with the help of a small army of 3D printed robots that could do just about anything, a vast database of scientific knowledge, a great store of crop producing seed and even a means of producing livestock like our own pigs and cows, even with all of this and a perfect soil rich planet, at the time of writing, the Bloats remain inside their virtual world, as they don't consider the transformation to have created a home as perfect and as easy to live in as their one in the digital realm.

While the module containing the Rogers's family home was brought to them, the Bloats thanked the family for all they had done. To honour them, and to show their eternal gratitude, they announced they were going to call their new planet and home Roger. Furthermore, to reward Siavash for his bravery and sacrifice, they offered to replace the Talon Fighter or, as their advanced 3D printers could construct just about anything, he was welcome to have any spacecraft he wanted from a single seat space bike to a battleship class monster.

Siavash accepted the offer, but instead of asking for a spaceship of any kind, he wondered if he could possibly have,

"A Ford Mondeo in midnight blue,"

"What? Why?" asked Fairuza and Giovanni together, sounding a little disgusted.

"It's the taxi drivers dream vehicle," said Siavash.

"But a Ford Mondeo? You could have, like a Millennium Falcon! That worked! That didn't even ever break down!" said Giovanni.

"It'll be top of the range with all the special options," said Siavash.

"But you're an intergalactic space taxi driver," said Fairuza.

"Not any more. I've learnt my limits. My horizons were far too stretched. From now on, I'll rarely leave Shropshire, although I will be leaving the house daily."

Knowing this, that their Dad was willing and able to leave the house, was reward enough for Fairuza and Giovanni. So if a Ford Mondeo was their Dad's vehicle of choice, then a Ford Mondeo is what he would have.

Fortunately, as the Bloats had considered visiting Earth for a two week jolly, they had a knowledge base file on the planet and all its people. This provided enough information on the Ford Mondeo to enable Fraser to print one out to Siavash's exact specification, although not painted midnight blue. He had to settle, quite happily, for moondust silver.

As Siavash went to supervise the design and production of his brand new car, Fairuza and Giovanni thought it best to go back to the house and check up on their Nan. As they rushed through the front door back inside their home, their Nan was rushing through the hall towards them.

"Oh, my little stars," she said. "I didn't know you were actors! Even that man, your Dad! How did he manage to learn his lines? Was his head one of those special effect thingamajigs?"

"You saw us?" Fairuza asked.

Nan waved her phone at them. "I watched it all. It wasn't my usual sophisticated fare of course, but there was nothing else on."

She grabbed them with both her arms and hugged them tightly. With her mouth to Fairuza's ear she whispered, "You were amazing. A natural. The best by far. The boys were rather wooden. But you, you're heading straight for the top, even to Emmerdale."

Nan released them from the hug.

"Thank you," said Fairuza, surprised by all the praise.

Suspecting Nan had whispered something in Fairuza's ear Giovanni looked at Fairuza suspiciously.

"Now, I really must go to bed," said Nan, "Five naughty nightcaps is my absolute limit. On a Sunday night anyway."

She cackled with laughter then staggered up the stairs to bed.

"It's Sunday night," said Giovanni remembering, worried. "We've got school tomorrow."

"Oh, well. I'm not sure we need to think about school," replied Fairuza calmly and without any hint of concern.

"You're not sure? You don't need to think about school?" said Giovanni, amazed that the thought of missing school hadn't given Fairuza a panic attack.

"No. Why stress? It's not my fault, and we're not even back on our own planet yet."

"True. Then we must get going. Space and time remember. We can travel through space and time. So we can make it back."

"You want to make it back? You want to go to school?" said Fairuza equally amazed that Giovanni was even thinking about school.

"I've got plans, big plans. I need to get things moving."

"I've got plans as well. Beautiful, crazy plans."

"I've got proper plans, business plans."

"I've got magnificent plans, creative and artful plans."

"Mine will change the world."

"Mine will change me, Fairuza."

"Good. That's a bonus for us all. About time too."

"If your plans have even the slightest chance of changing the world, I'm staying here on Roger."

"You'll be right at home with all the robots."

"As would you with all the fat lazy Bloaters."

"You'd,"

"Wait!" Fairuza interrupted with a voice that was raised but not angry. Giovanni got the message and fell silent. Fairuza continued, "Let's...just...chill."

Giovanni was gobsmacked, "Chill? You? Chill?" he just about managed to say through his speechlessness.

"Both of us," said Fairuza.

"Chill?"

"Yes. We've been through a lot together today."

"Right. Yes. We have."

"And we did rather well."

"We did very well."

"Took risks and survived."

"Worked together as partners, as a real actual team."

"We should hug."

"Like football players winning a game?"

"No. Like a brother and a sister who just want to hug at the end of an extraordinary, life-affirming day."

Giovanni agreed, willingly, and embraced Fairuza for nearly five whole seconds, which was by far his all-time personal best.

"My plan," said Giovanni, unable to contain his excitement, "it's not a plan, it's a vision. I'm going to start my own business, and you can join me as an almost equal partner."

"What business?" asked Fairuza.

"Robot services. Services for robots. Everything a robot could ever need: holidays, shoes, discos, chill-out spas, anything and everything! Even like weddings and funerals. Advice on how to get along with humans. Counselling! We'll be a one-stop-shop for every robot need. And you can join me. We'll have to work really hard, but the rewards will be amazing. We will be billionaires."

"Thank you for the offer, but I can't. As I said, I have a plan of my own."

"What?"

"I'm going to become a professional dancer."

Her words were a tsunami of insanity crashing into him and actually made him faint.

# CHAPTER 18

With Fraser's help, the Intergalactic Space Taxi returned to Earth, to the exact same position, in both space and time, from where and when it had left.

As a symbolic gesture, Fairuza and Giovanni paid Siavash the one pound fare - Fairuza also gave a fifty pence tip, Giovanni, however, gave no tip at all, claiming his new business venture had given him cash flow problems.

They were glad to be home, and even gladder when life didn't return to normal. Giovanni, worked hard planning and researching his new business venture, and Fairuza started dance classes, to which Siavash gladly drove her three times a week. Even Lady Bull-Sitter's evil plan to steal the Rogers's home was foiled.

On the Monday after returning to Earth, the Junk Man called on Siavash to say they were due a conversation.

Siavash quickly apologised for all that had happened and for Giovanni's moment of madness when turning the washing machine all the way up to eleven.

The Junk Man replied, "No such apology required. And if anyone should be apologising and offering a good chunk of truth, it is me, here, myself."

"No. Say nothing more," said Siavash in reply. "I understand the need to have such a," he lowered his voice to a whisper as if telling a secret, "washing machine waiting ready to spin into action in case of special emergencies. And I'll be happy to continue working undercover as like a guardian of the washing machine, especially now I really do know never, ever turn it up to eleven."

'Even eight or nine could prove problematic,' said the Junk Man.

Siavash returned his voice to normal, "Always five. We'll wash everything on five, even Giovanni's socks."

"Well, that would be appreciated far and wide. Very, very far and wide."

"It will be my honour."

"That's that then. By the way, just so happens I've got one of those arcade machine contraptions here with me. Good for nothin' of course, just scrappin'. You can have it, if you want it."

"Useless is it?" said Siavash, with a sly wink of the eye.

"Good for n-n-nothing," said the Junk Man.

"We'll call it art then, or a real funky chair. I'm the sort of man that could pull off either. Want to know a real secret? I'm cooler than me kids."

"Ain't no doubt about it, sir. Oh, and this, I f-f-f-found this too," He pulled from an old carrier bag what appeared to be Siavash's Atari game boxed in perfect condition and still in its original and unbroken frame. "Yours, I believe."

"Mine," said Siavash getting emotional.

"I found it."

"How? It was,"

"Recovered," said The Junk Man interrupting as he passed the game to Siavash.

"Oh, wow. Well proper thanks," said Siavash. "It special to me is this."

"I know. You've framed it. What sort of loon frames any old tat?' said The Junk Man.

"It's like we're meant to be, found, together,"

"Best keep it safe then and handy too."

"Safe and handy it always shall be."

"That other concern, Lady B-b-b-ball S-s-s-sitter."

"Oh, goodness!" said Siavash remembering, "Plan A was to completely ignore it."

"And plan B?"

"Train her dogs to bark at the postman and scare him and any letters away. Or train her dogs to eat her. Humanely of course. Not raw. Properly cooked and prepared. She does eat roadkill, after all."

"Can I offer a plan C? I know exactly how to deal with the Ball-Sitters of this world."

After carrying the arcade game into the house and giving the washing machine/alien escape portal a service, the Junk Man found himself a step away from the door of Lady Ball-Sitter's large and stately home. As he lifted his hand to knock, the door flung open. Lady Ball-Sitter came steaming out full of with fury, snorting with disgust and utterly appalled.

"You! You! You dirty man! What business can you have here? How did you get through the gate? " she glanced around at the large, quite brilliant garden, what with its splendid green lawns and lavish borders and flower beds full of magnificent blooming roses. "Where are the dogs? They'll rip off your limbs!"

"No need to panic," said the Junk Man calmly, "I've a special delivery for a Lady Ball-Sitter."

"You? A delivery for me? Impossible! What could you possibly deliver to me? Except for your filth and disease and horrible stink! Who sent you?"

"Since you've been so generous towards Mr Rogers, what with all the free cow muck, flies, doggy doo and woo and the l-l-l-like, I's got something for you in return."

She felt she was being threatened. Rage boiled within her. Her face reddened and got sticky with thick, gloopy sweat. She stepped right up to the Junk Man, her stare locked onto his, and keeping her rage contained and seething within she spoke,

"Know this, you dirty vagabond, in addition to my vast collection of shotguns, I have, over the years, acquired a considerable armoury of still useful weapons from the Second World War. Every single one of them used in battle, and every single one of them German made. And every single one of them makes me quiver with a deep, dark desire to use it in anger. But the weapons I desire most, those that I shall rush to first whenever called upon to defend this, my ancestral, rightful land, from low, dirty, scum, those weapons, the weapons I crave so desperately to use, to aim, to fire, to kill, those are the hand grenades and bazookas!!"

The Junk Man was unfazed.

"Oh, I see, well let me tell you this, m'lady, I've ten ton of alien poo due for you in about ten seconds time. So please, look up to the sky and behold the wonders of space-time travel and the flushing of an alien sewage storage tank. Oh, and the sort of poo that's comin' to you, here, right now, aimed directly at your head, it's not the sort of poo that does roses any good," he chuckled briefly, then added, "I'd say bummer, but I wouldn't want to make light of the situation."

Lady Ball-Sitter hesitated, as two competing options ran through her mind: one, run inside the house and arm herself with hand grenades and a fully loaded bazooka; two, punch the Junk Man as hard as she could then kick him in the shins. But before she could reach a decision, a magnificent dollop of alien poo dropped out of thin air to completely cover her, and several other great stinking dollops landed all over the garden. The Junk Man stood unconcerned by the quite runny poo, protected as he was in a transport light capsule that had flashed up around him just before the poo rained down.

As Lady Ball-Sitter crawled out from the mound of poo, shocked and dazed, and trying not to swallow or even breathe, the top of the transport light capsule opened and the Junk Man told her,

"Your land rights, those that you use to blackmail Mr Siavash Rogers, sign them over to him and his family or else the poo deliveries will continue, daily as it happens."

To be fair to Lady Ball-Sitter, she proved a real tough cookie to crack. It took seven such deliveries to convince her to sign. But with her garden a lake of you know what and the air all around humming with a monster stink and a thick cloud of drunken flies, it was something in the alien poo, she did finally crack, good and proper too, in a crazy, scary kind of way that made her rush to her solicitors and sign the land rights away.

To this day, she has never left the house without using an umbrella. And she now spends her days writing to the government to warn them of an impending alien invasion and insisting they develop a means to defend the country against alien poo bombs. She also demands the government provide every UK citizen with a bomb-proof umbrella, gas mask and can of fly spray powerfully enough to kill large birds. To support her claims, having kept a large fridge freezer full of the alien poo, she always includes in her letters a sample of the stinky stuff and can often be found in the local high street demanding random people examine her bag of it.

"It's not my poo, you fool! It's not even cow! It's alien! Sniff it! Touch it! Know your poo, know your enemy!!" she will often scream at poor startled shoppers.

Having put his dreams of intergalactic space taxi travel to rest, Siavash became a normal everyday taxi driver, one whose vehicle never left the local area let alone the planet or solar system.

He took all types of people to all types of places - grannies to the bingo, kids to school, nutters in pyjamas down to the pub. He saw more of life than he had for a very long time, most of which he found quite fascinating.

Of course, sometimes he found the work a little dull and even unfulfilling. But such is life he would say to himself. At least he was earning enough money to buy Fairuza and Giovanni all the things they needed, as well as some of the things they actually wanted. And driving the Mondeo was always a joy. It was fast, comfortable and the optional extras gave him the edge over all other taxi drivers, in fact over every other vehicle on the road.

For instance, there he was one morning stuck in a long queue of barely moving traffic. In the back were a teenage brother and sister, on their way to school. Both were locked into their smart phones: their ears connected by headphones; their stares unmoveable, fixed to the screens, as if they, the people, had been hacked by the machines.

"This traffic better get a shift on, or you'll be late for school," said Siavash loudly, trying to start a conversation. He failed. Neither teenager replied or even looked up to acknowledge he had spoken.

"Look! There's a frog selling ice cream. No. Silly me. It's a toad," he continued, unsuccessfully.

One last try, he thought. He turned behind and looked at them directly. "Blink if you can see me. I'm trapped over here in this weird, alien dimension," he said while waving his hands furiously. But even this failed to trigger a response. He looked forward.

"Oh well, you may not be in a hurry, but this king of the road most definitely is."

He chuckled to himself and flicked a switch on the dashboard which turned the car invisible.

"Launch control, vertical," he said commanding the car through voice control.

The Mondeo took off vertically, rising five metres above the road. Siavash, looked in the rear view mirror, at his passengers still locked to their phones.

"Ahh, pity," he said, "Think if you caught this on video? Share of the ruddy century."

He floored the accelerator and flew fast away above the queuing traffic.

The End
