Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (20 page)

Johnny was surprised at how well he'd slept. He'd still been so excited when Alf suggested for the umpteenth time that he and Clara should get to bed, that he never thought he'd sleep. But then his exertions had finally caught up with him—two folds and willing a spaceship into existence—not bad for a day's work, he thought. He climbed out of the bed, put on his dressing gown and went through into the next room. The table was empty—Clara had taken the plican with her into her room. Johnny walked over to the window and gazed out at the waterfall, letting the carpet massage his feet. He wondered how long it would be before they could take the Spirit of London back to Earth. He knew they were nowhere near ready, but if they didn't go soon there was no way they could rescue Louise and Bentley. He just hoped it wasn't already too late. Johnny saw Alf, dressed as always in his suit and bowler hat, enter the square in one corner, carrying a silver salver that doubtless contained their breakfast. He went over to Clara's door and tapped gently. “Alf's coming,” he said. “Time to get up.” Clara grunted from the other side. Johnny went back to the window. Alf had been waylaid halfway across the square by Chancellor Gronack, nearly twice his size.

The English lesson! He'd forgotten all about it. He went
back and hammered loudly on Clara's door this time. Even paler than usual, with slightly bloodshot eyes, Clara emerged from her room with the plican's tank under her arm. She yawned and grunted at him.

“You OK?” Johnny asked. “You look exhausted.”

“I'll be fine,” said Clara. “I was up most of the night with the plican.”

“You're mad,” said Johnny. “It's not as if it talks or anything.” Clara yawned again and walked sleepily over to the table, plunking herself down on the cushions. Johnny went and sat down next to her. He started to tell her about their morning's teaching duties when they were interrupted by Alf bringing breakfast, followed by an extremely grumpy Chancellor Gronack.

“Is it true?” asked Alf, skipping on the spot as he put the salver down on the table.

“Is what true?” Johnny asked.

“The Chancellor here informs me it is to learn to speak Terran. Please tell me I can come along too? I take it we shall study at the university?”

“First off, Alf, it's English—not Terran,” said Johnny. “Not everyone back home speaks the same language.”

“Really?” asked Alf, lifting the lid of the salver to reveal smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on toast, with blueberry smoothies. It had been Clara's turn to choose breakfast and she'd picked one of her posh meals that Johnny didn't really like. “How can they possibly all get along?” Alf asked.

“They don't have to—they're savages,” squeaked the Chancellor, sticking its antennae as high in the air as they could go.

“Chancellor Gronack—how can that be when Johnny and Clara are so delightful and interesting? Their world must be a fascinating place.”

“I sincerely hope I never have to find out,” said Gronack,
before turning to Clara. “Come, little girl. I have matters of state to deal with—I didn't come here to watch you eat.”

Clara glared at the phasmeer, but didn't have the energy to reply.

“The Chancellor is right, Miss Clara,” said Alf. “We really should get a move on. It is so good of it to take time out of its schedule—it simply would not do to keep an imperial official waiting.” He started to clear up around Clara as she carried on eating, drawing another glare from her. Soon, however, Johnny and Clara had changed and all four were in the language laboratory of the Imperial University.

English couldn't be found in the university's database, so all of them had to sit with their heads in what looked like dryers from an old-fashioned hairdressing salon while the university's ancient brain extracted Johnny and Clara's knowledge of the language and transferred it to Gronack and Alf. It was all very time-consuming, especially because the Chancellor kept complaining and disappearing outside to send messages concerning “important matters of state.” Alf helpfully pointed out that there was a communications console in the laboratory it could use, but Gronack muttered something about galactic security and ignored him.

By the time they returned to the central island of the palace they were running late for their meeting with the Emperor and a return to the Spirit of London. Alf was panicking about keeping His Majesty waiting. Chancellor Gronack had come along too—having kept its side of the arrangement it was determined to have its papers signed. Alf was apoplectic when Clara decided she needed to go back to their quarters and fetch the plican to introduce it to Sol. Then Johnny remembered he'd planned to collect his games console—he wanted to see if he
could somehow connect it up to Sol so he could talk to the ship when he was back in the palace. In the end the android picked them both up, placed each of them up under an arm and whizzed them to their rooms and back in around ten seconds. They arrived in a blur of movement and Alf lowered Johnny and Clara to the ground.

Bram was waiting for them by the pool in the courtyard outside their quarters. “Good of you to join us,” said the Emperor, smiling at them as they approached.

“Your Majesty—I cannot tell you how sorry we all are for our lateness,” said Alf, taking off his bowler hat and bowing so low his head almost touched the marble flagstones.

Bram Khari simply smiled, spread his hands wide and announced, “The Spirit of London awaits us. Clara—will you lead the way?”

Clara was so surprised she almost dropped the plican's drum. Johnny stepped in. “I didn't tell her where the ship is,” he said to the Emperor. “I thought you didn't want me to.”

“It's through here, isn't it?” said Clara, pointing at the waterfall. “I felt it the first time I saw it—something's folded space there.”

“Excellent, Clara,” said Bram. “Off you go—everyone follow Clara.”

“I am not going back through there, Your Divine Imperial Majesty,” squeaked the spindly Chancellor.

“Then I cannot possibly sign your proposal for new powers for the Regent,” Bram replied. “Bring the papers with you and I shall authorize them as we go.”

Johnny knew how badly he felt when going through a fold and was almost sorry for Chancellor Gronack, who seemed to be taking it far worse. Its robes had turned pure white with fear. One by one, following Clara and the plican, they all stepped through the upward-falling water and were transported to
another world. Clara seemed to positively love the experience, the Emperor looked fine and Johnny was just delighted to make it through conscious. He stepped over the prostrate body of the Chancellor to where Alf was also lying horizontal. Bram came and joined him. The Emperor lifted off the bowler hat and rotated the android's left ear through 360 degrees. “Emergency re-start,” he said to Johnny. “Just as well you know.”

Alf sat bolt upright and looked around. “Oh my word,” he said. “I do believe that was a fold. How fascinating.”

“Are you OK?” Johnny asked.

“Never felt better,” said Alf, getting to his feet and wiping some dirt off his suit while looking around.

The Emperor swished a hand over the Chancellor so it floated alongside them, still unconscious, while the others walked along the side of the cliff toward the Spirit of London. When they reached the opening where the ship stood, everybody let out a little “wow.” Although it had only been the day before, Johnny couldn't believe how beautiful the ship looked.

Clara, shivering in the wind and rain, looked almost in tears. “You're right,” she said to Johnny. “It is beautiful.”

“
She
,” whispered Johnny. “Don't upset her.”

They walked up to the doors at the foot of the huge ship. Johnny entered first and to his surprise he heard Bram ask, “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

Johnny smiled. “Permission granted,” he replied, and the three others, together with the floating Chancellor, entered behind him. Bram's eyes flickered over the statue of the giant silver alien in the lobby, but Johnny wanted to take everyone straight up to the bridge in the antigrav lifts. Clara hated them and had to be practically forced inside, but once at the top Johnny introduced her, Bram and Alf to Sol, who seemed delighted to meet them all. Clara took the plican's drum and, with some help from Alf, fixed it to the top of the cylindrical
tank at the center of the room.

“Thank you, Clara. I am complete,” said Sol, sounding absolutely delighted.

“Now you're the FTL Gherkin,” she replied, and the others laughed.

They spent the next couple of hours exploring the huge ship. There were lots of things Johnny expected—a giant engine room for propulsion when they weren't folding; laboratories for experiments, a sickbay and a galley. But there was also a whole floor with a five-a-side football pitch, other games rooms and a beautiful garden area. Sol, who Johnny could talk to anywhere within the ship, told him it generated food and oxygen. Bram said he'd better go back and check on Chancellor Gronack, leaving Johnny, Clara and Alf to look round the shuttle bay on their own. There were three mini transports in there, each of which Sol said was controlled by their pilot's thoughts. Johnny couldn't wait to try. The biggest one looked like a red double-decker bus while the other two were in the shape of black London taxis. Johnny loved them and told Sol for the hundredth time how brilliant she was. In another room Alf wanted to check Sol's records of London. Johnny and Clara were amazed to see pictures of St. Paul's Cathedral and Tower Bridge, and even bowler hat-wearing city workers walking the streets.

“Master Johnny … Miss Clara,” said Alf. “Look at them—I do hope I have dressed properly. When the Emperor said we would be going to London I did want to look as inconspicuous as I could. Apparently the financial workers wear this uniform.”

Johnny caught Clara's eye and saw it was all she could do not to laugh. “You'll fit in like a native,” he told the android. He was wondering how the Emperor and Alf could possibly have planned a trip to Earth before they'd even met, but just as he was about to ask there was a loud bang and he, Clara and Alf fell
to the floor as the ship shook.

“Johnny,” came Sol's voice from over their heads. “Is everyone OK?”

Johnny looked around. “We're fine, Sol,” he said. “What happened?”

“We're under attack,” said Sol, as calmly as though she was reciting her twelve-times table. “Emergency takeoff initiated. Can you come to the bridge?”

The three of them got to their feet. “We're on our way,” said Johnny and they rushed out of the room, along the corridor to the lifts.

As they stepped out onto the bridge they could see the groggy figure of Chancellor Gronack trying to get to its feet and three spaceships heading toward them on the giant viewscreen. “Incoming transmission,” said Sol, in time to the pattern of lights on the neighboring screen.

“Who from?” Johnny asked. “Where's Bram?”

“The transmission is from Emperor Bram Khari,” said Sol, as calmly as ever, as a missile exploded nearby causing the ship to shudder again. “Displaying message.”

“Johnny,” said Bram, whose face had appeared on a display screen attached to the chair in the middle of the bridge. Johnny sat down to talk to the Emperor. “We have been betrayed. I must close the portal to Melania behind me. Fold at once—use the worm to contact me once you're safe.”

There was another explosion. “You heard him, Sol. Let's fold.”

“State destination,” the ship replied.

“Anywhere,” shouted Johnny. “Earth … Terra … Sol Three!”

“Destination programmed,” said Sol.

“No!” screamed Clara, as the force of the blast came through the hull and sent her flying across the bridge. The compartment holding the baby plican glowed blue, opened and the creature
fell through into the main tank uncurling its eight tentacles. Another huge explosion just outside the ship lit up the screens.

It's happening again, thought Johnny, as he braced himself for the fold. He found himself falling through the walls of the ship straight toward the brightest light he'd ever experienced, and then … blackness.