Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (11 page)

“Nice of you to join us,” said Stevens. “Come.” The man who'd pretended to shoot Johnny outside the space elevator was leading Clara across the floor of the chamber, weaving between giant tentacles and mysterious objects littered everywhere. Johnny had no choice but to follow in silence, with Stevens behind, pushing him in the back.

Nearing the far wall, Johnny saw his little games console, poking out from a puddle that smelled of vomit on the floor. If it was sick he really hoped it was his, as he pretended to trip up, getting close enough to pick up the handheld in one slick movement. Stevens muttered, “Disgusting species—filthy little humans.”

Ahead of them, Clara stopped and turned round. “Well I don't think much of your dirty stinking spaceship.”

“I suppose you could do better? You are nothing—we are the krun. We are perfection.” He pointed to the man beside her and said, “Show her perfection. Show her our true form. Then release the hundra.”

The man nodded and stepped into a clear cubicle nearby.
Once inside, he turned to face Johnny and Clara and smiled as dense white bubbles began to fall on him from above. He began to change—thick black hairs sprouted across his face, his eyes ballooned out like pudding bowls and his nose grew to become a snout. As the foam filled the chamber, it became harder to see what was going on, but it didn't stop Johnny staring, fascinated. The bubbles reminded him of the stuff he'd extracted from his own hair back in Halader House—this was some sort of DNA shower. The door to the cubicle opened and out stepped something totally different from the man who had entered. It had two legs, four very long arms and a short stubby neck on which sat a giant, fly-like face. From beside him Johnny dimly heard Clara say, “That's disgusting.” He was too shocked to say anything. He'd seen a creature just like this only a week before, in the moonlight outside his bedroom window.

The krun, saliva dripping from its snout, waddled toward a container that opened automatically. In two of its four hands, each with a thumb and three long fingers, it took hold of coiled whips which crackled with electric red sparks as it unleashed them. Satisfied, it walked over to a cube the size of a big car and inserted one of its free hands into a hole in the side. The walls fell away to reveal a giant brown floating ball, with leathery skin like an elephant's, chained to the floor. The krun took hold of the chains and whipped the ball, fleetingly turning its surface red.

Meanwhile Stevens walked over to the wall and touched it beside one of the squares of orange goo. Slime began to ooze out onto the floor. “My turn,” he said, now walking into the same DNA shower that the other “man” had entered. There was so much going on, Johnny didn't know where to look. Stevens began to transform before them, while the chained giant ball floated toward the wall, but Johnny's eyes were drawn away
from them both. Instead he stared at the inside of the cavity that was appearing as the slime emptied out from it and a strange sight began to emerge.

In the center, nearly three meters tall and dressed, if that was the right word, in shimmering metallic robes with the most vivid colors that reminded Johnny of dragonfly wings, was a bottle green alien with a long thin head—almost a meter long—with two antenna sprouting from the top, only to droop feebly down the side of the thing's face. Any arms or legs were covered by the robes. At its feet was a little brown creature, very much smaller, that waddled around its larger companion on four bowed legs, like those of a piano stool. It was attempting to remove clumps of dirty orange goo from the bigger alien, while straightening out its robes with two spindly arms.

The two creatures completely ignored Johnny, who felt a push in the back sending him toward the wall. Clara was thrust forward too, as the krun that had been Stevens shoved them with two of his arms. A circular hole widened in front of them, like a camera shutter, and their momentum carried Johnny and Clara through. Clara froze. They were now standing on the beginning of a very narrow walkway, stretching across to a distant wall like a giant ligament and so high above the floor of an enormous cavern that machines were flying around beneath them. There were no railings on either side and a very long drop, but another push from Stevens saw them forced out onto it. Clara stared resolutely ahead, but Johnny turned round to look behind. Both krun, the floating ball and the other two aliens had followed them through the opening and were walking behind, causing the walkway to bounce alarmingly. The creature that had been Stevens began making strange clicks using two arms and his snout and the other krun started whipping the leathery ball, turning its surface a vibrant red. A voice, Stevens's voice
speaking in English, boomed out, “We are the krun—you are our prisoners. You will make your way to the transit tube and transfer to an Andromedan vessel.”

“Transit tube? They simply cannot be serious,” squeaked a voice from the tall alien. “Just how primitive is this ship? I, the Dauphin taking …”

As the surface of the ball returned to its original coloring, the voice was replaced by chirping sounds. Clara had managed to turn round by holding onto Johnny, but was determinedly not looking down. The krun began the whipping again. With every lash Clara's fingernails dug deeper into Johnny's arm.

“ … the indignity of it all. I will not transfer through a transit tube. I will not be treated the same as these primitives.” The voice was still coming from the tall creature who seemed to be gesturing toward Johnny and Clara. “I am the Dauphin of …”

“Silence!” boomed Stevens, as the other krun whipped the leather ball again, this time far more violently than before. “I don't care if you're the Emperor himself. You will do exactly as you are told. Do you understand or do you want to die?” As he said this, the other krun started whipping the leather ball constantly, turning it red all over.

“Stop!” Clara cried. “You're hurting it.”

Stevens looked at Clara. “For years I've had to put up with your do-gooder nonsense. Not any more.” He laughed, took hold of one of the whips and started lashing the ball so hard the whip was now piercing the outer hide.

“No!” Johnny heard himself say. He didn't know what, but he had to do something. Trying to run toward Stevens he misjudged the low gravity and crashed straight into the floating gas bag. Instead of bouncing off he found he'd stuck to it. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard a scream of pain as the whip lashed into the back of his skull over again,
forcing his head into one of the lesions that had opened up in the ball's side. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a moment and everything went quiet.

The silence was broken by a rich, deep voice that seemed to be inside Johnny's head. It said, “Hello … that was rather unexpected.”

Johnny opened his eyes again. His face was somehow inside the huge ball, which was hollow. From his new vantage point the outer hide was translucent, a battered brown membrane on which red streaks were appearing and disappearing from the continuing, but now silent, cracks of the whip. The ball's insides were illuminated by a swirling, glowing golden pattern of light at its very center. Somehow Johnny knew that this was where the voice he'd heard had come from.

“Hello,” Johnny said back. He couldn't actually tell if he'd simply thought the words or had spoken them out loud. “Where am I? What are you?” He'd tried to hold this final question back as it did seem rather rude, but he'd simply thought it and out it came.

“I,” said the voice, “am a hundra. And you,” it continued, “do not appear to be dead.”

“No, I don't think I am,” said Johnny. The atmosphere inside the hundra was old, stale and very thick—it was like being under the surface of a swimming pool where the water hadn't been changed for months. Yet he could breathe.

“How very curious,” said the hundra.

“Are you OK?” Johnny asked. “They seemed to be hurting you.” As the red weals appeared on the brown membrane, he could dimly hear Clara calling his name in the distance.

“Regrettably, I shall live,” said the hundra. “Tell me, what race are you?”

“I'm human,” Johnny replied. “My name's Johnny—Johnny Mackintosh.”

“I have lived many years and witnessed many things,” boomed the hundra. “But never have I seen a human, Johnny—Johnny Mackintosh. It is thought no race can touch the hundra, without suffering an instant and most horrible death. Not since the ancients—the ones who gave us our gift.”

“I don't understand,” said Johnny. “What gift? And how could I touch you?”

“We, the hundra,” said the creature, “are the galaxy's translators. We feed on language. We ingest words from one people and emit brainwaves in the language of others. As to how you come to be bonded to me, and how you lived, I do not know. Stay with me a while, Johnny—Johnny Mackintosh. I would welcome a companion with whom to enter discourse.”

“I can't,” said Johnny. “There's loads I need to ask, but my sister's out there. I can't leave her. Is there any way you can send me back?”

“If that is your wish,” said the hundra sadly, all the time its golden lights swirling. “I fear after all these years my conversation may have been lacking anyway. You show courage, human. And kindness for trying to help me. Such qualities are rare in these modern times.” Johnny felt the word “modern” was meant to sound insulting. “Before I expel you, will you do me one favor?”

“Of course,” said Johnny. “Whatever I can.”

“I have grown stale, for too long a victim of these vicious krun. I fear I shall die here, forsaken in this dark place, never again seeing the light this galaxy offers.” Johnny made to interrupt, but the hundra silenced him. “There is a quality of the ancients that, when the need is great, we can divide ourselves, cleaving our souls apart. You cannot save me Johnny—Johnny Mackintosh but, should you accept, you may take with you a fragment of my being. Through you a little light may fall on me again, before the darkness closes in.”

Johnny wasn't at all sure he liked the sound of this, but he
had practically promised. “OK, I guess,” he said focusing as best he could on the glittering gold lights.

“My gratitude will go with you always, most noble human,” said the voice inside Johnny's head and, as he watched, a single speck of light separated itself from the swirling mass and floated toward him, sparkling all the way up his left nostril. Happily, Johnny decided he didn't feel any different at all.

“It is a great gift,” boomed the hundra, “unique in all the galaxy. Use it well.”

Before he could say thank you, though he wasn't really sure what for, Johnny found his face separating from the wall of the creature and he was thrown out onto a ledge. While he had been inside the hundra the party had crossed the walkway.

“Johnny!” shouted Clara.

The whip bounced off the hundra's hide and Johnny rolled out of the way just in time as it crashed onto the floor next to him. He got to his feet and ran over to her.

“It lives, sire,” clicked the little brown alien to the tall Dauphin. “What thing can touch the hundra and live?”

“Silence!” boomed the Dauphin. “How dare you address me without being spoken to.”

“Your Highness. Please forgive me. I, your humble servant, prostrate myself,” said the creature, collapsing all four legs and falling in front of the Dauphin.

“You will proceed to the transit tunnel … now,” said Stevens, and he pointed with a long finger to an opening in the wall.

“Very well,” said the Dauphin, striding quickly toward the opening. The little brown servant scuttled behind.

“Come on,” said Johnny to Clara, taking her hand and following the two aliens. “Anywhere's better than this.” Clara didn't look very sure about that. Through the opening they found themselves in a small chamber facing a sealed hatch. The doorway closed behind them, leaving Stevens, the other krun
and the hundra on the far side. There was a hiss, as though some air was escaping. Then the hatch in front opened, revealing a tunnel with corrugated translucent walls. “It's an airlock,” said Johnny. “We must be transferring to another ship.”

The Dauphin looked at him strangely, before ushering the little brown creature in front of it and into the tunnel. As soon as it crossed the opening it started floating, arms and legs flailing everywhere. However the gravity was being generated, it didn't seem to extend beyond the ship.

“It doesn't look very long,” Johnny said.

Clara took Johnny's hand and squeezed. “Let's go together,” she said, and they both pushed off, following the Dauphin into the zero G tunnel.

The hatch behind them closed automatically as they floated through the corrugated corridor. It looked as though it was made of skin, covered with dark veins and spots, with little flaps of extra tissue hanging off in places. They'd set out rather too quickly and were catching the Dauphin and its servant. A light appeared at the end they were floating toward, suggesting the airlock there must be opening. Johnny squinted to see if he could make out anything. If the krun on the ship they were leaving were scary, they were nothing compared to the monstrous shapes Johnny thought he could make out before he smacked straight into the back of the Dauphin, sending them both spinning out of control. He was rotating so now he could see where they'd come from and where they were going every couple of seconds, and something unexpected was happening. The light they'd been heading toward had gone out. The tube, in both directions, seemed to be closing together as if it were being pinched tight. He could understand them closing the route off behind them, but not in front. He really hoped they hadn't been too slow—that they weren't going to be stuck in this little organic tube in space until the air ran out. He kicked
out, but it didn't stop his rotating motion. The Dauphin was shouting at him for his clumsiness. And then the tunnel itself jerked in one direction and all four of them inside it were flung violently against a wall by the acceleration.