Falling Sideways (14 page)

‘They think I killed your brother William.'

‘Oh. Bill's dead, is he?'

‘Apparently.'

George shrugged. ‘Plenty more where he came from,' he said. ‘Now, would you mind lying a bit straighter? Thanks.'

Strange family, David thought, as George tapped a few keys on a pad. He'd known stranger, mind, including his own. ‘I didn't do it,' he added.

‘Sorry, do what?'

‘I didn't kill your brother.'

‘Ah. That's all right, then. Now, this won't hurt a bit.'

A machine whirred and something on a folding metal arm, like a self-propelled dentist's drill, started to move towards him. David jumped up like a startled rabbit and huddled on the far edge of the bed.

‘Calm down,' George said crossly. ‘It's just going to scan you, that's all. It's done it once already, while you were asleep.'

The arm jerked a little closer, and stopped. George muttered something under his breath and tapped some more keys.

‘You're examining me,' David said.

‘That's right. Don't worry,' George added reassuringly, ‘you won't feel a thing.'

‘I won't?'

‘Of course not, we aren't butchers. All the intrusive procedures and amputations and stuff are done under anaesthetic.'

For some reason, David didn't find this quite as reassuring as presumably he was supposed to. ‘Mr Yaxley never said anything about this,' he muttered. ‘What're you going to do to me?'

‘Ah.' George looked uncomfortable, as if he'd just discovered a hedgehog in his trousers. ‘Well, that's why I distinctly told Humphrey I wanted a volunteer. I'm going to have to explain that volunteer doesn't just mean not-dragged-on-board-kicking-and-screaming. He sometimes has difficulty with the finer shades of meaning. Professional hazard, I guess.'

The metal arm pounced like a cat and stopped an inch above the top of David's head. He found that he couldn't move at all. ‘Answer the bloody question,' he whispered.

‘Do I have to? It'll only make you miserable.'

‘I can live with that.'

‘Oh, you won't have to. Not for very long, anyhow. Really, I'd rather not say; you see, panic and fear and anger and all that sort of stuff, they all have quite marked effects on the chemistry of the brain, and that really screws up the accuracy of the data. The same goes for elation and euphoria, of course, though I can't see that being too much of a problem.' He sighed. ‘I'm going to be so cross with Humphrey next time I see him.'

David could feel his eyelids drooping, and remembered what George had said about anaesthetics. ‘That's enough,' he said. ‘I'm not a volunteer, so leave me alone and turn this thing round immediately.'

George raised an eyebrow. ‘So you can go back to Earth, you mean?'

‘Too bloody right.'

‘Would that be such a good idea?' George said, shaking his head. ‘I mean, if the police are after you—'

‘Doesn't matter. I want to go home, now.'

‘Sorry.' George pulled a stern face, though it was pretty obvious he wasn't happy with the situation. ‘I really wish I could help you, but it's out of the question. You've got no idea how rigid the Uuuurk are when it comes to paperwork.'

‘Who the hell are the – what you just said.'

‘The Uuuurk,' George repeated. ‘My bosses, the people who built this ship. You see, I've already filed a requisition order, so as far as they're concerned the experiment's already been done. If I abort it now, I can't go back to them for any more funding. This is all Humphrey's fault,' he went on, scowling horribly. ‘I suppose he thought he was being clever, but if he'd just stuck to doing as he was told—'

‘I couldn't give a toss about your funding.' David meant it to be a shout, but it came out as a comic little squeak, Donald Duck doing a Bugs Bunny impersonation. ‘You can't just kill me for the sake of some rotten science project. I'm a human being.'

George nodded. ‘That's precisely why I can,' he said. ‘Of course there are safeguards, pages and pages of them. You thought
Homo sapiens
was anal about rules and regulations, you should see the Uuuurk directives governing the humane treatment of lab specimens. Every time I try and deal with all that stuff, I end up wishing I was the one in the tank . . . Buggery,' he added, ‘look at these endorphin readings. You've gone and got yourself all worked up and upset, I won't be able to get anything useful out of you for at least six hours. Are you feeling hungry? I can get you a sandwich.'

It occurred to David that if he were to say yes, the best possible outcome would be that George would go away and fetch it, affording him an opportunity to escape, and the worst possible outcome would be that he'd get a sandwich. ‘Thanks,' he said. ‘What've you got?'

‘Ham,' George replied. ‘Cheese and pickle. Or I could do you toasted cheese, if you'd rather.'

‘That'd be great. Thanks.'

‘Don't mention it,' George said. ‘Least I can do, really; and it's sort of traditional, the hearty breakfast and all. Meanwhile, you lie back and take it easy, try and think pleasant, calming thoughts. Summer meadows, stuff like that. I won't be long.'

‘Please don't rush on my account,' David replied. ‘Really.'

George nodded. ‘Remember,' he said, pausing in the doorway, ‘summer meadows.'

‘Summer meadows,' David said. ‘With buttercups and cowslips.'

‘Whatever works best for you.'

David waited a while after he'd gone, remembering what had happened the last time he'd tried to get off the bed. He thought about George and his apparent fondness for dogs, which had led him to program Fang. He thought about that a lot; then, in as gentle and friendly a voice as he could manage under the circumstances, he cooed, ‘Here boy. Good dog. Nice biscuit.'

The machine called Fang blinked some lights at him. An aerial at the back waggled backwards and forwards.

‘Good boy,' David said. ‘Nice biscuit. Come and get it.'

With a whirr of servos the machine called Fang turned through ninety degrees and rolled across the floor towards him, aerial vibrating. David waited till it was nicely within arm's length, then grabbed hold of the dentist's-drill thing, jerked it sideways till it snapped off and smashed it into Fang's console. The machine stopped dead and rocked from side to side for a couple of seconds; then all its cute little lights went out.

David wasn't particularly happy about that. He'd never knowingly killed anything in his life, and in his mind's eye he could see a translucent cartoon version of the machine, complete with wings and halo, slowly ascending to heaven. He shook himself, urged himself to get a grip and headed for the door.

He'd gone about five paces when something hit him in the small of the back, decking him. Once the shock had cleared from his mind, he realised that whatever it was had four feet and was breathing heavily down the back of his neck.

‘Rivet,' said a voice behind his head. ‘Where do you think you're going, pal?'

It was a very odd voice indeed. The words were English, the accent sounded vaguely transatlantic but somehow not human. It sounded, in fact, like the synthesised voice that came out of his Korean-made digital answering machine.

‘Hello?' he said.

‘Hello yourself,' the voice replied. ‘My name's Uuuurk. Actually, my regular name is U'uuurqqqk but you humans, your throats are the wrong shape for pronouncing our language. I could care less, it's no big deal.'

Uuuurk? ‘This is your spaceship?'

‘Yeah.' Something odd and wet flicked his ear. ‘And I gotta tell you, you ain't got no right to go trashing it like you did. That multiplanar scanning module you beat up on just now, you got any idea how much that sucker cost me? More'n your whole damn planet, I'm telling ya. But it's OK,' the voice went on, calming down a little, ‘you weren't to know that. We'll say no more about it.'

David concentrated very hard. ‘You're an alien,' he said.

The voice laughed; rivet, rivet, uuuuurk. ‘You could say that,' it replied. ‘Like, my people and some amphibious raniforms on your planet share a very remote common ancestor, hundreds of generations ago, but so far back it don't matter any. You wanna make something of it?'

‘No, of course not,' David said quickly. ‘I was just – raniforms?'

‘Scientific word. Technical term. It's just a fancy way of saying frog.'

‘Frog?'

‘Yeah, frog. Can't say I like your tone of voice, buster.'

‘George said you were—'

‘George? Who's this George?'

‘The other human. The one who brought me here.'

‘Ah, right, yes. So that's his human name, is it? Come to think of it, he did tell me once, and I guess I forgot. Like, he answers OK to Uuuurk, so why bother? What about him?'

‘He said he was running this project.'

‘Hah! Like a human could run this project. Gimme a break, will ya?'

‘Sorry,' David said quickly.' It's just— Well, if this is your ship and you're some kind of really advanced alien civilisation—'

The voice croaked. ‘We are. That's what being really advanced means, we get plenty of quality leisure time. It's very important when you're a high-profile scientist to stay in touch with your inner tadpole, you know?'

‘Ah.' Cautiously, David tried to move. A paw pressed on the back of his neck, paralysing him. Presumably that was just a friendly overture, as well.

‘You probably figured it all out already,' the voice went on, ‘but I'll explain anyhow, so we all know where we stand. My people are the Uuuurk—'

‘I thought you said Uuuurk was your name.'

‘It is. Damn.' The alien sighed. ‘Shoulda known, you guys just haven't got the brainpower to understand. Yes, my name is Uuuurk. My people are called the Uuuurk. Each one of my people is also called Uuuurk.
Uuuurk
is also the only word in our language – apart from
rivet
, of course, but that just means
rivet
. OK?'

‘No.'

‘Shit. All right, listen up. It's all in how you pronounce it, see? Like there's
uuuuurk
, meaning a muddy pool;
uuuuurk
, meaning the fourteenth month of the year;
uuuuurk
, to slide quickly off a floating log into the water;
uuuuurk
, the pleasure you feel on a close friend's birthday;
uuuuurk
, an equilateral triangle;
uuuuurk
, the colour of ripe pomegranites;
uuuuurk
, the square root of 1,067—'

‘All the same word?'

‘But pronounced differently. You could hear the difference, couldn't you?'

‘Oh yes,' David lied. ‘Clear as a bell.'

‘A what?'

David guessed. ‘An
uuuuurk
?'

‘Clear as the scent of the blossom of a late-flowering
uuuuurk
?' A slight pressure against David's spine suggested that the frog was shrugging its shoulders. ‘Hey, you guys, you're something else. Anyhow, we're from a planet in what you call the Sirius system.'

‘The Dog Star,' David remembered.

‘Dog Star? With a “D”? Must be a typo. Anyhow, we've been watching this Earth of yours.' The voice pronounced it ‘Oyth'. ‘Been keeping an eye on it for a couple hundred years and I gotta tell you, you guys are weird. Completely nuts. But that's OK, live and let live. You don't bug us, we don't bug you. Though there is one thing I gotta ask. About the worms.'

‘Worms?'

‘Yeah. What is it with that thing where you get a worm and you stick a big sharp hook through it and tie it to a rope and
then
you throw it in a pond and drown it. We seen you guys do it, most every pond we stayed at. What the hell did worms ever do to you?'

David thought for a moment. ‘It's fishing,' he said. ‘You know, catching fish. The fish swims along, sees the worm . . .'

There was a long silence.

‘OK,' said the voice, ‘forget the worms. There's obviously some really deep-rooted cultural issues here, and we ain't got time to go into all that stuff right now. What you want to know is, what are you doing here? Am I right?'

‘Yes,' David replied.

‘It's very simple. And before I start I want you to know, there's nothing personal, OK? We like humans. A whole lot of people back home keep humans, they're like a sort of – what's that thing they're called, fashion statement. They're crazy about them. We even got a saying, a human is for life, not just for Planetary Equinox.' The voice sighed. ‘If there was any other way – but hey, you know how it goes. What can I say? Anyhow, the straight deal is, we're invading your planet. We need the space. Back home it's getting so crowded we're three, four to a lily pad. And your planet – it's got the atmosphere, it's got the climate, it's got the ecosystem and the mineral resources. You get the idea.'

‘I suppose so,' David said.

‘Too damn' right you suppose so,' the voice said. ‘That's why we chose you for this research project. Like, you're one of them, but also one of us. We take you to bits and figure out what makes you run, I guess you can see where that'd make conquering your world a whole lot easier.'

It was the way the voice said it as much as the words themselves: the eagerness, the enthusiasm, the joy . . . For God's sake, screamed the embattled PFLDP, frogs are going to kill you and take over the Earth, and you're starting to
like
them?

‘Are you sure you want to do this?' David asked.

‘Sure? Sure we're sure.'

‘But . . .' David searched his mind, digging deep into the compost heap of cultural programming, and found what he'd been searching for. ‘But animals don't do that sort of thing. Animals don't invade each others' territory or wantonly kill each other or oppress the weak and helpless. Animals are better than we are, that's why we like them so much.'