Inside Uranus

By Stewart Bruce

Hold on to your sides for the third and funniest instalment of ‘The Uranus’ space romp trilogy. Journey with the villainous Dr. D’Eath as he threatens to kill the dead people of Lom. Unsuccessful, he moves on to rush the procrastinators of Askme and falls madly in lust with Nyps, so aptly named for her big feet. Meanwhile our hero, Roy, enjoys a few adventures of his own. News of his exploits in the Dead Zone have spread throughout the galaxy and there are those who need his help.

Part of his deal with Nev of the Dead Zone was to find Zak from the ‘Kidz Alright’ and to get him to do a gig in exchange for the release of all their prisoners. With both Zak and Nev aboard the Artois there is a final showdown with Dr. D’Eath and Roy uses the Architect’s T.I.T.S. to thwart him, or was it his T.W.A.T? And so the opening three books of our trilogy are done.

A book of just over 100,000 words; seasoned with humour and social comment and spiced with a hint of adult language, well quite a bit of that actually.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stewart Bruce
• Release date: Apr 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311080356

Stewart Bruce

I was born in Lincolnshire in 1964. After living in several places and countries, due to my father being in the RAF, my family eventually settled in South Wales. After completing a music degree and teacher training I moved to North Yorkshire in 1989 where I still live and teach.

Book preview

Inside Uranus

Stewart Bruce and Nigel Moreland

*****

Text Copyright 2014 Stewart Bruce

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Lyrics Copyright Zak Wright

Many thanks to Zak Wright, The Kidz Alright and Fusion OK for giving me permission to use their material within in this book. Here Comes the Sun!

Front cover by the amazing Scribble & Co.

Copyright - Michelle Scrivin

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

*****

To Claire, Francesca and Amelia.

A big thanks to Nigel who has helped me turn my poor writing skills into something more readable and for all the work he put into this book.

Also, a big thank you to Angela Bennett and Rob Williams for helping out.

Inside Uranus is book 3 of a trilogy:

Beyond Uranus (2012)

The Rings of Uranus (2013)

Inside Uranus (2014)

*****

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1 – Doctor John D’Eath

Chapter 2 – Fleetwood

Chapter 3 – The Honeymoon

Chapter 4 – The Madness of King John

Chapter 5 – D.I.S.C.O.

Chapter 6 – How to Hide an Alien

Chapter 7 – Getting Ready to Leave

Chapter 8 - Meeting the PM

Chapter 9 – Fancy Dress

Chapter 10 – The sieve crumbles

Chapter 11 – Welcome to Earth

Chapter 12 – Darling Tow

Chapter 13 - The Hogman

Chapter 14 - Invasion Earth!

Chapter 15 – Ivana Poka

Chapter 16 – The Armada

Chapter 17 – Ivana Jsafta

Chapter 18 – Let's get going

Chapter 19 – Doctor D'Eath's Revenge

Chapter 20 – Pridome One

Chapter 21 – Inside Uranus

Chapter 22 – Leap of Faith

Chapter 23 - Epilogue

Prologue

Beyond Uranus, the first book, introduced us to Roy the IT teacher, in a dead end job at a dead end school. One day on his way to work something unusual happened and Roy ended up with a future version of himself in the back seat telling him to watch out for Simon’s car later on.

That evening Simon did arrive and made an out of this world offer to Roy, who was unconvinced until he saw the car. Within a couple of days Roy was transported to another world in Earth Station 3 and began his pilot training. The pilots are there to shunt other space ships away from the detection zone of Earth. Thus keeping the planet on its current path and avoiding unnaturally accelerating its technological progress by exposure to the advanced technology of the aliens.

Unbeknown to Roy one of the other pilots, Dr. John D’Eath, is harbouring a grudge against his family for an act that allegedly lead to the death of his father. This knowledge came to the doctor via Loki, the Norse God of mischief. Roy’s graduation adds further fuel to the fire with John D’Eath, who is plotting revenge on Roy. After a failed attempt to frame Roy for assaulting him, Dr D’Eath is escorted off the station but escapes to plot his murder. Meanwhile Roy, blissfully unaware of those plans, sets off with some new found friends on several laddish visits to forbidden parts of the space station.

Disaster strikes when Roy is in the wrong place at the wrong time, his ship is attacked and Roy is kidnapped to become a specimen in a galactic zoo. His mum saves the day and rescues him. Roy wasn’t aware of his parents past life on the station, until now. He then finds out that his father didn’t die in an industrial accident as he had been told all those years ago and that he too was kidnapped to become a zoo specimen. Could his father be alive?

The Rings of Uranus, the second (but not necessarily penultimate) book in the trilogy, sets us on the quest to answer that question.

Roy starts to have regular nightmares, tantalisingly glimpsing his father on a desert world. On one occasion Roy wakes to find sand in his bed, how strange? He and Claire visit Simon to demand a rescue mission and Simon grants permission.

A new pilot joins the crew, Daz. He is somewhat different to the others with their genteel mannerisms and Daz soon rubs them up the wrong way. He and Roy become friends and Roy learns that Daz was asked to leave the SAS for being too aggressive.

John D’Eath stages an attack on the station looking to kill Roy, but only finds Daz who breaks his nose and sends him packing. During the assault D’Eath causes the death of one of the Simons and we discover the awful truth that is their story. How they were marooned and abandoned by their creators and left to die out.

Enter the ‘Artois’, a super dreadnought with increased strength and an improved drive system. Instead of it taking months to get to the Dead Zone the Artois manages the journey in a week. Meanwhile Michael, The Architect, has fashioned an android to take his place in society so that he can sneak on the mission with Roy and his crew. Michael reveals his TWAT (Temporal Widget for Activating Time) to Roy and they agree to hold it in reserve only to be used to avert disaster. This time travel feature gives us the authors, an excuse to make merry with tenses. We hope you will have found them difficult to follow.

Pretty soon the Artois enters the Dead Zone and locates a planet that is beaming out Kidz Alright rock music. They head towards that and discover it is where Roy’s father is being held captive. They meet an alien that they name Nev who negotiates with them for the release of not just Roy’s dad but also all the other captives, as long as Roy can deliver their God of music to perform a concert on their world. And that is where he discovered that he had a genetically engineered sister, Felicity, who turned out to be the perfect human.

Heading homewards Adams tells Roy and Michael that it is imperative that they have a meeting back on Earth Station 3 and they must not drop Michael off on his homeworld on the way home. Adams then reveals that it was Roy and Michael who put the sand in Roy’s bed that started the whole shebang and that they must complete this task before Michael can go home. They realise that Nauru is the only place for sand of the right type and head there for another encounter with its infamous rum before completing the task and moving us forwards to the beginning.

So now we start the search for Kidz Alright in this the third book of the trilogy.

Chapter 1 – Doctor John D’Eath

Today Space was wearing his black coat. The colour hadn’t been a difficult choice considering that his wardrobe housed approximately seven thousand black coats, but all of them were of differing shades. When he was a youngster he read it in a comic, for nostalgic reasons let us say it was ‘The Eagle’. Anyway this article reckoned that there were seven thousand different shades of black and young Space thought what a jolly wheeze it would be to check the truth of this out and to own a coat made from every one of them. So he set about his wardrobe which also became a defacto record of his somewhat dubious fashion sense over time. Ranging from an early Churchillian trench coat from the drab and dreary school of design, to a more outspoken one with an up-swinging pointy collar like Dr. Stange from Marvel comics and now to his latest, a Goth type with toggle-buttons like a duffel coat. Nor were they all plain black, some had little star-spangly bits and others had cloudy nebula, as though he had been dusted with flour. Wool was definitely his fabric of choice, of course it could get pretty bloody cold out here and the nights were long, endless in fact and as his old gran used to say; a stout woolly coat could even keep absolute zero at bay, for a while anyways.

A thousand kilometres above the planet Lom, in the cold, lifeless depths of a spangly black woollen coat lay the Conquest, lurking menacingly motionless. Well, motionless in a relativistic fashion of course, because in comparison to the rest of space it was actually moving quite quickly, bloody fast by some standards.

John D’Eath lay back in his seat, letting his mind wander over the past. He’d been at university when it had happened. The news of his father’s suicide nearly broke him, but his mother had been a tower of strength and persuaded him to continue his studies; to do and be what his father wanted for him. The money was there, his father had hidden a sum away just for this eventuality.

Then, as he studied harder than ever, the stories started to trickle through to him. Tales of how the money lenders and bailiffs were banging on the doors at all hours, demanding payment. Mother forced into a life of servitude, working from dawn till dusk earning the money to pay them, but it was never enough and the vans pulled away taking her belongings and furniture until the house had been stripped.

Mother’s health was deteriorating, her heart and back broken, hunger a constant companion. People, who used to be her friends, now derided her and others spat on her as she begged for food. We know all the jobs you do, and why do you have no money eh? Is it the gin or gambling? Go away woman, we don’t want your sort here!

He’d received the telegram on the day of his PhD. She had died; a bag of bones, worn and humbled. The pneumonia had taken her last breath, but given him a resolve for revenge and on that day he swore to bring the wrath of D’Eath down on those responsible.

They would all pay of course, when he was master of the galaxy. He’d spotted that possibility the moment that Simon walked into his life. These people would tremble at the mention of the glorious name, ‘D’Eath’. The whole village would be enslaved. He would put the women to work in his brothels and the men and children in the quarries, let them see how hunger and hard labour could break the spirit. Killing them was too quick. No they must suffer and die a little more each day until they begged him to end their misery. And all this because of one man, who had the sheer effrontery to die before he could get to him so now his son, Roy, would pay a thousand times over.

Humankind itself would cower and quake at the sound of his step. No one paid any attention to the suffering of a once proud woman, a little kindness would have done so much to ease her burden. But no, humanity turned its back. Damn them all equally. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but slowed as he considered the coming conquest and the revenge to follow. A grin somehow cracked and manic formed, and he laughed, Muahaha. They will pay!

*

There was a galaxy full of ‘available’ planets but Doctor D’Eath’s computer knew this was a good starting place. The future King John had meticulously planned in outline, the stages for his galactic dominance. Starting with the creation of a fleet that would help him to destroy Earth Station Three, before moving on to a planet by planet and thence system by system conquest. The planet below was an unremarkable world by most standards, but one that was uniquely equipped to resist D’Eath's attempts to threaten, manipulate or cajole the inhabitants into joining his devious plans to destroy Earth Station Three. Suffused through the computer's circuits was a smug grin, because it knew that this was going to be a monumental time wasting exercise.

Land me in the centre of their most important city and don’t forget to put on a good show. I want an entrance befitting their new monarch, King John.

*

In the capital city, Mort, there was a large, pleasantly adorned plaza full of grey skinned residents shuffling their way to whatever location they needed to be at to keep their fair planet ticking over. It would also be quite apparent to even the casual observer that the people of Mort were trudgers, and that neither their dictionary nor thesaurus had any words with a meaning similar to ‘vivacious’. Nor did it have any antonyms. A rather elderly resident stopped and whilst staring intensely towards the ground, stooped and picked up his finger that had just fallen off. There was no concern and no panic in him because he knew it could be sewn back on by his neighbour. He carefully placed the disconnected digit into the pocket of his grey coat that was a bit frayed around the edges and had a long, long time ago seen better days. He could get a brand new coat anytime he pleased but he liked this coat even if it did make him look a little shabby as he shuffled about his daily business. Besides he had resisted the frippery of the fashionistas flashy adornments all his life and was not about to give in now. Something in the periphery of his vision caught his attention and he begrudgingly succumbed to the temptation to look up skywards to see what it was. It was a spaceship, Oh! He sighed with an air of reluctant disdain.

The ship was a blaze of pyrotechnic trickery, with massive jets of flame shooting out from its sides that left a blackened trail of sooty fumes streaking the sky behind. As it got closer the rumble of what sounded like huge motors gradually increased in ferocity. Doctor D’Eath was aware that ships didn’t make any noise and didn’t have jets of flames but he wanted a big entrance and needed to make as much impact as possible. A theatrical display entirely wasted on a planet full of natural philistines.

The people of Mort were nearly transfixed by the spectacle of the descending inferno. Some of them were even excited enough to mumble, one broke into a full blooded tut.

Why is the ship landing here mummy? asked a little boy picking a flake of grey skin off his forehead.

I don’t know, she calmly answered. The spaceport is miles from here.

Is it broken? It looks broken. I wonder if it’ll crash. We might get blown up standing here.

That could happen I guess, agreed his mother. Oh well, let’s watch and find out. Just be careful with your eyes, they are always so difficult to find when you’ve lost them. Remember last time, groping around in the dark whilst they rolled ever further away from you and that time uncle Tot had to get them out of the toilet.

A head rolled by, calling out, Hello there you two.

Morning Mr. Postlethwaite, replied the mother. Turning to the boy and speaking quietly she added, Now then Timmy you think on about protecting your bits, you don’t want to end up like Mr. Postlethwaite. A bit of a nobody.

No mum, sighed the boy having heard the same joke for the last hundred years.

The hellfire display subsided and the ship came to a gentle rest in the middle of the plaza. The people had shuffled out of its way to give it room to land. The little boy moved his hands away from his face to stare at the spectacle ahead of him.

The unwelcome kerfuffle caused a scattering of loose body parts and there was much apathetic stooping and collecting of the unsecured bits. A huge crowd had now gathered. Mostly, they were gleaning missing parts for themselves and claiming finder’s rights, whilst others were staring blankly at the black hull of The Conquest, now further blackened with assorted shades of soot.

A gantry extend out and down from the ship and a hatchway slid up. From inside the ship a figure theatrically stomped out and stopped at the top of the gantry, hands on hips and surveyed the peoples of Lom. The figure shouted something in a language nobody could understand and then a translation thundered from somewhere close by.

I am your king and ruler and all of you are now my subjects and servants, boomed Doctor D’Eath’s translation.

The crowd that had gathered looked at Doctor D’Eath in the complete emotionless silence of vapid incomprehension.

I am your king and ruler and you are now my subjects and servants, repeated Doctor D’Eath. You will do everything I tell you or I will kill you, he added but there was no response.

Doctor D’Eath pulled a small plastic looking gun from out of the back of his trousers. Although it was small, the device would cause massive trauma to a body. He pointed the device at the crowd but they didn’t even flinch.

You will do everything I tell you to or I will kill you, boomed the translation again.

From the silence of the crowd came a single voice.

We’re already dead.

What?

We’re already dead. I’ve been dead for centuries.

Is this true computer? asked Doctor D’Eath.

I’ve just checked the scanner, his computer lied, and it does look to be true. It appears that all the peoples of this planet are already dead.

Then how can I kill them?

Hmmm, killing the dead, now would that be an oxymoron or a tautology? The computer mulled it over before coming to the inescapable conclusion, You can’t.

Doctor D’Eath realised that this planet was definitely not the best choice to start his conquest of the galaxy. How could he threaten a population that were already dead?

Fuck you, shouted Doctor D’Eath to the crowd.

Fornicate with yourselves, boomed the translation.

He turned and petulantly stomped back into the ship, the hatchway slid back down behind him and the gantry retracted. There was a gust of wind, as air was sucked into the void that was left after The Conquest shot up into the stratosphere. Sudden gusts of air were an unusual phenomenon on this planet and several people close to where the ship was had to pick up the windfall of various body parts, triggering another round of gleaning. Those with a satisfactory complement of parts shuffled away to wherever they were originally going.

Doctor D’Eath was not happy about his first attempt to rule the galaxy. It had been a disaster. Had the computer deliberately chosen a planet full of zombies? Any more errors like that and he would have to seriously think about how he could punish the computer.

I hope that you didn’t choose that planet deliberately computer? challenged John.

I’m sorry. I have never been to that planet and did not know the peoples of that planet were all dead, lied the computer. OK, the computer itself had never been there, so it wasn’t a complete lie, but its data banks had held that piece of information.

If it happens again computer then there will be consequences. I want to get away from here and I want you to take me to another planet. Here are my criteria. The planet must have an advanced civilisation, they must be peaceful so it will be easy for me to dominate them and they must be fucking living. Do you think you can do that computer?

Yes, I think I have an appropriate planet.

Good. How long will it take to get there?

About seven days depending on stopping and readjusting my navigation systems.

Then don’t spare the horses and take me hither, computer.

Eh?

Full speed ahead, fuckwit.

Had John been a total geek he would have realised that Lom is Klingon for ‘dead body’. However, as the peoples of Lom didn’t even realise this, I guess it really doesn’t matter.

Chapter 2 – Fleetwood

Today was the day I would finally get to go on my honeymoon to the relaxation planet of the Seven Medallions of Wonder. I had joked with Claire about going to the planet Sex but she hadn’t found it funny. However, before leaving the station there was the small matter of attending a meeting with the mysterious Fleetwood.

Propped up in bed, I lay naked, sipping a cup of tea and wondering what Fleetwood would be like. I’d only met four alien species; the Simons and The Architect looked like humans. I didn’t really know what Adams originally looked like because he had been transformed into a computer. Nev was the only alien that really looked like an alien although he still had similar features to humans like two arms, two legs, a torso and a head with two eyes and a nose. I guess these were useful features for a species. I know they were useful to me, though there were times when a third arm would come in handy. If we were to be completely different, say gelatinous blobs, would we still be able to manipulate tools? If I was a jelly species I would call myself Bob and eat blancmange and junket. How would I procreate? By squirting sperm at my jelly partner like a sea anemone, maybe.

What are you thinking about? interrupted Claire from my thoughts.

Err... being a jelly, eating blancmange and having sex by squirting sperm everywhere.

And why would you need to dream about that? Have you thought about getting some pills from Doctor Philberts?

Well, you asked.

Claire leant over and kissed me on the forehead. I think it’s time for you to get up. You’re meeting Daz and Felicity in half an hour. I shall pack while you’re at the meeting. And try not to do any squirting whilst you’re out!

Ooh, let me hold my side in case I burst another stitch, thanks darling.

The meeting was to discuss Doctor D’Eath and what we were going to do. I’d asked Daz to be at the meeting because I knew he could be useful with his military background. Felicity was going because it would be good experience for her.

Roy, said Adams interrupting me from my thoughts, there's a phone call from your mother.

I rolled my eyes at Claire and said, Put her through Adams. Hi mum.

Roy, I'm just phoning to make sure you're OK.

I'm fine mum. There's nothing happening here so I don't know why you're so concerned.

You're going on your honeymoon and I wanted to make sure everything is 'fine' with you, she emphasised 'fine' in a very peculiar way.

What do you mean by fine?

I wanted to make sure everything is working because you don't want to get a visit from Mister Floppy.

What the hell! I spluttered while Claire started giggling.

You're not getting any younger, mum scolded, and you need to start thinking about having a family. It's traditional for couples to start one whilst on honeymoon and I need you to make sure everything is working.

Mum, I explained, I met Claire on a space station, we got married on an alien planet and we're going to another alien planet for the honeymoon. Which part of this relationship is traditional?

The part where you have children. There were muffled voices in the background and then my mum added, Your dad says to take plenty of vitamin C and don't get drunk, it'll help your little swimmers to stay strong. Oh, and perhaps Claire could wear something to get you in the mood. I find that a big pair of knickers does the trick for your dad.

Oh my god, I cringed. That's way too much information and besides which I don't find belly warmers in the least bit attractive. Now, is there anything else you wanted before you put me off sex for life?

I was just phoning to make sure you have a good time. We'll see you soon, Roy.

Thanks mum. Bye.

*

As I entered Sam’s Bar, Daz and Felicity were already sat at a table eating cereal. I ordered my usual breakfast of croissants with peach jam and strong, steaming coffee. Heading over to their table I could see Felicity was wearing her computer now that she had started her pilot training. Like dad and I she had also named hers and called it Jen. I asked her why and she said that she had called it Jen after Jen Gardiner who was the seamstress in the UK sector. Jen was a bit bossy and a bit of a know it all, just like her computer. I tried to explain that the computers took some of their characteristics from their owners but she told me that couldn’t possibly be the case and what do I know anyway. Yep, I thinketh the lady doth protest t’much m’lud.

Morning. How’s the training going Felicity? I enquired.

A bit disappointing actually, she answered.

How come?

I was doing the drone training and got to level eight and Simon told me there wasn’t a level nine.

Simultaneously, Daz and I exclaimed. Level eight!

I only got to level six, added Daz.

Really? questioned Felicity. I thought that was for training children. I must admit I thought everything would be more of a challenge but it seems very basic.

Felicity really was very special, and had developed socially at an alarming rate. She had quickly learned that glare women manage when looking at someone below them in the food chain, just like the glare she was giving us now. We must seem like early proto-humans compared to her intellectual prowess and she must feel like patting us on the head and throwing bananas at us. We had only been back on the station about a month and I think she was finding life a bit boring because things were just too easy. My coffee and croissants arrived and I changed the subject. I’ll say one thing for these aliens, they were good at faking it. The aroma coming off my tray was pure patisserie fantasy.

Are you ready Daz?

You bet your ar..., he glanced at Felicity, ...arm I am. I have so many ideas about how to blow up Doctor Death’s ship I actually think my brain will explode.

Why do you call him Doctor Death? asked Felicity. Why don't you call him Doctor D'Eath?

Because he doesn't deserve the respect of us calling him by his proper name, I answered. Anyway, I don’t think Simon will be up for any death and destruction.

We may not have any choice, Roy, argued Daz. Simon has to remember that Doctor Death is human and you have to fight fire with fire. There was substantial damage done to the station and we’re lucky only one person died. Destroying him may be the only option if we want to stop him. I think he deserves the same fate as Edward II, just pass me a poker and a pot of charcoal.

I don’t think Simon is going to agree to medieval torture methods. Let’s just see what Fleetwood has to say and make sure you’re on your best behaviour Daz.

What do you mean? I’m always on my best behaviour.

Like when you went running naked through our reception? giggled Felicity.

That wasn’t my fault, defended Daz. Roy made me do that. We had a bet and Roy wanted to make sure I fulfilled the bet when there were lots of people in the square. So it’s actually Roy’s fault and he should get all the blame.

Felicity employed the glare again, Oh really, she said.

Whatever, I said finishing my breakfast. Come on, let’s go.

We walked across the grassy square towards the pilots’ facilities and Simon’s office. My thoughts were about Felicity rather than the impending meeting. I wondered if Simon could find her something to keep her occupied before she got totally disillusioned with being on the station. When we arrived at Simon’s office I knocked on the door and waited for his summons. It always reminded me of being in school, outside the Head Teacher’s door, waiting to be summoned because a parent had complained about me calling her child a vacuous waste of carbon and water. You’d think being from a more technological race Simon would have a different set up, like having a robot for a secretary or having meetings by hologram.

Come! ordered Simon from behind the door.

On entering the office we spotted a spinsterly female sat next to Simon behind his desk and I guessed that she was Fleetwood. To be honest I was a little disappointed. She was another humanoid but she didn’t look anything like an elite military strategist. What would one look like? I allowed my imagination to roam; bulging muscles from working out and playing war games, a khaki uniform, square head and perhaps a gun strapped to a magnificently prominent chest with a bandoleer containing chunky nipples, I mean bullets. Fleetwood looked like the librarian from Beaufield School but with not a wholly unattractive face. Small in presence with a defensive posture, legs crossed and arms folded. She was wearing clothes from my granny’s wardrobe and her shoulder length brown hair was tightly tied back into a ponytail, and yet despite the dowdy look there was a hint of a sparkle in her eyes. She wasn’t looking at us, but she was looking at a small white cube on the table in front of her.

Alright darling, greeted Daz, three teas and a coffee for Simon if you please.

I rolled my eyes at his lack of social etiquette and deliberate attempt to belittle her.

With a face that would turn a lemon sour, she gasped, I beg your pardon, whilst still looking at the cube.

Three cups of tea and a coffee for Simon, he repeated. Come on, chop chop.

Darren! scolded Simon, This is Fleetwood, not a tea lady. He turned to Fleetwood. I do apologise about Darren’s rudeness. You three sit down and stop with the confrontational attitude Darren.

Oh, so I’m the pariah again eh? Well you can’t blame a chap for jumping to conclusions, when she’s doing such a good impersonation of a tea lady. Before adding, Hey I do impressions too. Would you like to see my impression of an Elephant? Without waiting for acceptance Daz pulled out his trouser pockets for the ears and as his hand went for the zip I suddenly realised what he intended to use for the trunk.

For Chrissakes Daz, NO! I shouted, interrupting his flow.

Felicity had a curious look, but it was Fleetwood that caught my eye. Just for a moment a predatory look of hunger flitted across her face and the tip of her tongue licked at her bottom lip, then the librarian was back.

We sheepishly took our seats opposite Simon and Fleetwood. It wasn’t a great start to the meeting and being a sensitive sort I immediately felt a twang of tension arising from this conflict, nothing unusual for Daz then.

Let me introduce Fleetwood to you, continued Simon. She is an expert on military strategy. She is from the planet Bah and it literally translates as history.

Not librarian,