‘Does it have a name?’ Tim asked Norman as they watched a video feed of the rocket’s launch from C deck.
The squat, fat rocket sat in a spring-loaded launch tube which was being carried to an airlock along a conveyor belt. The door behind it sealed shut, the view changed, and they saw it from to side as the outer hatch opened and wisps of air vented into space.
‘Yeah, you should give her name,’ Ludokrus said. ‘She was your idea.’
‘Smithzific I,’ Norman said as clamps locked the launch cradle to the deck. ‘Ready? Five ... four ... three ... two ... one ...’ He hit a button on the handset he was holding and the spring in the base of the cradle shoved the rocket out. An external camera followed it as it drifted into space.
‘Was that it?’ Coral said. ‘More like Smithfizzer. How many million years did you say it’s going to take to get back to Earth?’
‘The rocket has a really powerful engine. We can’t fire it till it’s clear of the ship.’ A readout at the bottom of the screen counted off the distance. ‘Five kilometres minimum, right Albert?’ Norman said.
‘Correct.’ Albert’s voice sounded from a nearby speaker. ‘Otherwise we’d risk sustaining blast damage.’
‘About there, you reckon?’
‘Yes, it’s well clear now.’
Norman stabbed a second button and the image on the screen exploded in a ball of light that shrank so rapidly it was beyond the range of the external camera within seconds. They watched it in silence for a full minute, a tiny star heading into blackness. Tim watched it, thinking how a small part of him wished he could go with it, but a much bigger part was eager for the adventure ahead.
Albert’s voice broke the silence. ‘The time batteries are almost fully charged. We should be off ourselves.’
* * *
‘Sorry, I haven’t had time to change the bed,’ Em said at the door of Coral’s room.
‘Don’t worry, Em. I’ll do it.’ Glad took the bundle of sheets off her and set them on a chair. ‘You’ve got enough on your plate.’
‘Sorry about my in-laws too.’
‘You can’t do much about them. At least you’ve got some.’ Glad was a solo parent.
‘You’re taking this remarkably well, I must say.’
‘Am I? Don’t be fooled. I’m all chewed up inside.’
Em touched her shoulder in solidarity. ‘We all are,’ she said, and left the room.
Glad looked around. There was a pile of school books on the desk beside a half-completed assignment. An MP3 player. A mobile phone and charger. A glittery pencil case. The dresser was littered with hair products, facial scrubs and body lotions. Glad smiled at the thought that Coral probably had a better range than she stocked in RAGS.
She pulled off the duvet and began stripping the bed. As she gathered up the pillows, she found a brown paper packet tucked beneath them, an envelope twenty-five centimetres square with something hard and round inside. It had no label, no address. The end was open. She tilted it and tipped out a willow-pattern plate.
‘What an odd thing to keep under your pillow,’ she said, putting it to one side before continuing to make up the bed.
* * *
Coral beckoned to the trolley-bot carrying Tim’s gel bed. It followed her around the curving corridor, past the galley and the recreation room, into the segment containing the suspended animation capsules. Norman, Ludokrus and Alkemy had removed one of the units at the front, and a machineshop-bot floated nearby, gathering up the spare components in a series of mechanical claws.
‘I feel like a lump of cargo,’ Tim said from inside the bed.
‘That’s exactly what you are.’
The four of them took a corner each, anchored their slipper-clad feet to the deck matting, then slid Tim’s bed off the trolley and guided it into place. There was a clunk as magnetic latches engaged and locked it in place, then another bot went to work, moving faster than the eye could follow, hooking up cables, fixing hoses, connecting circuits.
‘Knock Knock Who’s There?’ Ludokrus called.
‘Major.’
‘Major who?’
‘Major say knock knock again!’ The ship laughed, then made a noise like it was clearing its throat and added, ‘What can I do for you, Mr Ludokrus?’
‘Please check my friend here for suspended animation.’
‘Certainly.’ There was a brief pause. ‘All connections are valid and functioning. Circuitry and power levels: correct. Pressure seals: tested. Fluid reserves: normal. Gel circulation: three hundred percent due to healing parameters. All systems: green and good to go.’
‘Thank you.’ Ludokrus turned to the others and gestured at the remaining units. ‘Now for us.’
* * *
‘This roast lamb’s delicious,’ Glad said.
‘Yep.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Mmm.’
The meal continued in silence.
‘Gravy’s good too.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Yeah.’
More silence.
‘You get up to much at the weekend, Glad?’ Frank asked. ‘It was a long weekend here,’ he told the visitors. ‘Rata Day. Remember Rata Day, Glenn.’
Glenn nodded but stayed focused on his food.
‘I expect you were busy with the shop,’ Frank said.
‘Yes, I didn’t get a chance to go anywhere.’
She took another forkful of food, wondering if she should tell them about Albert and the others making scanner blocks and placing them around town in an effort to locate the Sentinels’ base. They were made from old computer parts using nanomachines produced by a device that looked like a calculator. That, she realised, was probably the least crazy part of her whole fantastic story.
Another glance at Glenn and Avril convinced her to hold her tongue.
‘I did run into your sister-in-law though,’ she added.
‘Oh, sorry about that.’
Glad grinned. The others didn’t react. ‘Not your fault.’
Frank prompted her with a waggle of his eyebrows. He clearly wanted to hear more about the ship and what she knew, wanted her to tell Glenn and Avril too. But why would they believe her? Glad thought. There was no proof of any of it, not even a scanner block, and things were already tense enough. She didn’t want to risk making things worse.
The main course finished, Em rose and began gathering up the plates.
‘These are nice,’ Glad said. ‘I’ve only just noticed the willow pattern. Very traditional.’
‘Family heirlooms,’ Em told her. ‘They were my mother’s. I keep them for best.’
‘I guess Coral likes them too.’
Avril snorted. ‘I doubt they’d be Coral’s thing. She’s a modern girl with very modern tastes.’
‘Oh, but didn’t you give her one?’ Glad said to Em.
Em frowned. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘I ...’ Glad thought of the plate under Coral’s pillow and suddenly the pieces came together. ‘In that interview, Alice said something about a broken plate. It wasn’t one of these, was it?’
Em made a face. ‘As I said before, my sister’s not the most reliable witness.’
‘It was one of these?’
‘A dinner plate, yes. And Coral returned it the following day, perfectly intact.’
‘So there’s none missing?’
‘Why would there be?’
‘And none have glued together?’ She looked over the five plates on the table and the one in the dresser.
‘Definitely not.’
Glad got up and went to her room, returning with the brown envelope which she set before her on the table. ‘How big is the dinner service?’
‘Forty-eight pieces, six of each.’
‘So that’s six dinner plates, six side plates and so on.’
‘Yes.’
‘And there are definitely no plates missing?’
‘You can see for yourself.’ Em gestured.
‘I imagine plates like these are pretty rare these days.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Only, you never see them about – except in antique shops.’
‘They are heirlooms.’
‘Wedgwood,’ Avril confirmed, inspecting the maker’s mark on the underside. ‘I did a course a few years back. They’re porcelain, made from a special type of clay and fired in a kiln at twelve hundred degrees centigrade.’
‘Not the sort of thing you could knock up in your back yard then?’
‘Certainly not.’
Glad nodded, aware of the others regarding her oddly. ‘There are no antique shops in Rata. Not even a secondhand shop.’
‘So ...?’
She slid out the contents of the envelope. ‘So where did this one come from?’
Four pairs of eyes looked at the plate, at the five on the table and the one in the dresser.
‘There were never seven of them,’ Em said. ‘Never.’
Avril took it and inspected the back. ‘It’s Wedgwood all right.’ She held it by the rim and pinged it with her fingernail. ‘Porcelain too.’
‘Where did this come from?’
‘It was under Coral’s pillow when I made up the bed.’
‘She must have ... found it in a shop somewhere.’
‘Not round here.’
‘But it’s identical to the others.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Frank said, getting to his feet and taking the clean one from the dresser. ‘Here, Av. Put them side by side. Look at the faces.’
Avril gasped and pointed. ‘Tim! That boy there looks like Tim!’
They stared at the figure fishing from the bridge. The other plate showed a nondescript outline, but the one from Coral’s room had the cartoon face of Tim on it.
‘And there’s Coral!’ She pointed to the girl leading the donkey.
‘Actually, that donkey looks a bit like––’ Frank began.
‘Norman!’ Glad laughed, finished for his sentence for him.
‘Who are they then?’ Avril pointed to the figures in the boat.
‘I think Em and Frank can tell you that.’
‘Albert, Alkemy and Ludokrus,’ Em said, taking a seat because she suddenly wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.
Glenn took the plate, moistened a finger and rubbed at the edge.
‘What are you doing?’ Avril snapped. ‘It’s baked on, you idiot.’
‘Then how on earth did they do this to an antique plate.’
All eyes turned back to Glad.
‘I think this was a keepsake made by the visitors for your daughter. Something to remember them by. They were expecting to go at any time. Their first ship, the one they came in on, the one Alice saw in the bush, was blown up by a killer robot so they had to summon another. There were another bunch of aliens you see – that second ship – and your children – our children – were helping the visitors avoid them. But they got caught in the crossfire, as we saw on that video.
‘This plate was made by the aliens, but not in a kiln. They used microscopic machines generated by a device that looks a bit like a calculator. It takes the atoms of what we consider waste material and reshapes them in any way you like. They rebuilt my car out there after it got blown up last week. And they fixed up Errol Fitchett’s big green school bus after your son stopped it from going off a cliff.’
‘Our son did what?’
‘And I’m certain that they’re using similar technology right now to fix Tim and help heal those horrid burns. That’s why they took him. They could have left him to die.’
‘And ... you ... know about this technology?’ Glenn said doubtfully.
‘I’m living proof of it.’ Glad patted her hip. ‘I got shot the other day. By that killer robot I mentioned. Within an hour or two, I was better.’
She looked at the stunned faces staring back at her. ‘I know it sounds incredible. I still only half-believe it myself.’ She tapped the plate. ‘But there’s the proof. Where else could that have come from?’
‘You ... er ... You should probably start at the beginning,’ Frank said.
‘Yes, I think I should. Make yourselves comfortable. It’s quite a tale.’
* * *
Tim could feel the gentle acceleration through his gel bed. Continuous. Steady. He’d left the background channel open, and the quiet commentary from Knock Knock Who’s There? about the status of systems, energy levels and time equilibrium settings was somehow comforting, even he didn’t understand it all.
Through the walrus mask, he saw and heard his sister and friends settle. Before they climbed into their beds, they’d exchanged hugs – even Coral and Norman – and he felt a pang of sadness at not being able to join in. Taps on the lid of his bed, murmured messages and smiling faces weren’t quite the same.
‘We’re under way,’ Knock Knock Who’s There? said.
Tim brought up an exterior view. The stars outside seemed to be moving and fading at the same time. As they drew closer and closer to the speed of light, they faded out entirely.
‘All systems normal,’ the ship said quietly. ‘Initiating suspension sequence.’
‘Good night, everyone,’ Ludokrus called, already sounding sleepy.
‘’Night.’
‘Good night.’
Tim felt his limbs grow heavy as a delicious weariness filled him. It felt like sinking into a feather bed after a long and tiring day. His breathing deepened, slowed, almost stopped entirely, and his last conscious thought was to wonder where he would be when he woke up.