Seb Cage Begins His Adventures

By Terry Tumbler

Seb and his younger brother Bart customarily spend all of their long summer holiday in Spain, with their grandparents. Gradually, as they all become older, relationships are strained, as the old folk try to find things to keep the boys amused.
It is not long before the grandfather, Tumbler, who is a retired detective, is using Seb as a trainee investigator to keep tabs on the movements of a sector of the local town who he thinks ‘don’t fit it in’ – they are in fact dwarves of alien origin.
Soon, Tumbler and his apprentice are rumbled, and Seb is invited to join a summer campus. Coincidentally, this is run by the dwarves and has only recently been set up, virtually on the Tumbler’s doorstep!
At the campus, it gradually becomes apparent that Seb and his classmates have been chosen beforehand, by genetic engineering. They find that they possess special abilities, which have been implanted in them at an early age, and realise that these are now being developed in a matter of weeks.
Whatever plans they may have had for the future, their chosen destiny now awaits them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terry Tumbler
• Release date: Mar 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370768639

Terry Tumbler

I retired in 2004 and am now living with my wife in Spain, amongst the Spanish. For over 30 years I was in the computer industry, some of which were with IBM before I got itchy feet. Afterward, I worked as an Organisation & Methods specialist before moving into mainstream computing and becoming involved in installation, management, analysis and programming. I took up writing at an advanced age simply because I had the time and energy to do so.A keen blogger, especially recently on Brexit related politics, and equally importantly on outlandish matters associated with my area of creativity in writing. My exhaustive research on UFO reported incidents is for authenticity, with the results reflected primarily in my books.

Book preview

Titles

If anyone cares to read other books by the same author, the suggested sequence is:

Seb Cage Begins His Adventures – where Terry Tumbler’s grandsons come to stay with him and his long-suffering wife, who live on the Costa Blanca, for the entire summer vacation. During this period, the elder one, Seb, experiences a number of futuristic adventures when he joins a summer campus run by a mysterious organization called The Sombrella Syndicate.

Series: The Dreadnought Collective Book 1

The Inlooker – where a presumably unique character, Thomas Beckon, realizes his paranormal talents and changes the nature of society in Great Britain, and thereafter of the World, to help shape mankind in its future development.

Series: The Dreadnought Collective Book 2

The Time Slipsters – A group of friends take a trip together. It is the near future, and they will be traveling on the latest type of air-road transport. Unwittingly, they are entering a world where time travel is a reality, and soon they embark on a sightseeing tour like no other they could have imagined. More than one person has a hidden agenda, as they realize when they reach a highly protected secret location.

Series: The Dreadnought Collective Book 3

The Deaduction Agency − witness at first-hand a group of specialist investigators, as they set up and run a new agency. They are dedicated to the resolution of criminal cases using paranormal assistance. This will be a new and emerging brand of policing designed to protect the citizens of our country.

Series: The Dreadnought Collective Book 4

The Sightseers Agency − the first recruit to the new Sightseers Agency is a remote viewer who actively seeks the resolution of events threatening world security. Both his fledgling agency and that of the Deaduction Agency belong to The Dreadnought Collective.

Series: The Dreadnought Collective Book 5

For those who may become more than remotely interested in his upbringing, the author Terry Tumblers’ childhood behavior is recounted in a mildly fictionalized autobiographical work called:

The Rough and Tumbles Of Early Years

The author himself subsequently regarded this as a potentially valuable compendium of incidents, which could be serialized in the same vein as Just William. Originally, it was prepared for the benefit of his family, who would otherwise have known nothing about his outrageous childhood behavior

Series: A Wonderfully Wacky World Book 1

Santiago Tales – where the irascible and incorrigible Terry Tumbler, based very loosely on the personality of the author, organizes a trip for himself and his cronies to travel to the sacred city of Santiago de Compostela, following parts of the St James Camino, in Northern Spain.

En route, as well as swapping stories in the same vein as those published in Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer, they endure an interesting encounter themselves.

Conceptually, this is a semi-fictional book within a travelogue.

Series: A Wonderfully Wacky World Book 2

Mentors & Tutors

Most of whom are short in height.

Students in Seb’s Class

All of whom are young teenagers.

Seb Cage Begins His Adventures

§ 1: The Boys Arrive

It was the start of the long, summer vacation for the schools in England, and it had been arranged for Terry and Sandra’s two grandsons, Sebastian and his younger brother Bartholomew, to come and stay with them for the whole period at their permanent home on the Costa Blanca. It was late in the evening, and the grandparents waited with a mixture of enthusiasm and wariness for the two live-wires to arrive at the airport; they knew how demanding they could be.

This arrangement had been (sort of) willingly agreed to by all parties, for the sanity of the two parents – Chrissie, the couple’s younger daughter and her husband Duncan, their once-portly son-in-law, who both needed valuable time together, away from their offspring.

As the two tired-looking grandsons came through customs accompanied by an impatient looking stewardess, Sandra waved enthusiastically and Terry less so.

Sign these, please, she said abruptly, passing their custody to Terry with barely a smile. He showed her his passport and scribbled something unreadable on the release forms, whispering to a stony-faced Sandra, She’s got a bit of an attitude problem, hasn’t she?

It seemed that Bart had abused the toilet facilities by sitting on the toilet as he flushed it, against the standing orders of the airline, and had wet himself in fright as he screamed blue murder. Likewise, Seb had disgraced himself too, by dropping his can of sparkling orange soft drink all over his seat and on the cabin floor,

Almost certainly, this would guarantee a delay in the ‘turn-round’ time expected by the airline bosses after landing at the destination airport. Their bad tempered directors were hardly ever willing to accept any excuses for a delay from the flight crew.

Seb was a young teenager, with his fourteenth birthday due in a few months’ time. He had loads of attitude, a few spots on his evenly proportioned face, and well-brushed brown hair over liquid brown eyes that shone with amusement whenever he looked at anyone.

To everyone else’s pride, a couple of years before, during a parade to mark the Diamond Jubilee celebrations of Queen Elizabeth II, he had caught a photographer’s attention. This had resulted in his photo being taken and displayed on the banner of the front page of a prominent local newspaper, with him waving a British flag. Inadvertently, he happened to be standing outside a PortaLoo mobile toilet.

Bart, his younger brother by two years, was built like a whippet. He was blond, had grey-green eyes, and in Terry’s opinion was equally handsome. He was also football crazy, and wore an almost constant, deceptively innocent smile on his round, impish face.

Bart could break into a cheeky grin in an instant, but also possessed a filthy temper when he couldn’t get his own way.

The grandparents drove them to their modern, two-storey detached home. It was a style and quality of property that both of them preferred, with earthquake-resistant foundations and steel reinforced concrete floors and pillars. Surrounding it were two 6 feet high walls, and entrance was controlled by electric gates with an intercom for pedestrians. Older properties in Spain could not match this build quality for sturdiness, and at least two or three properties in the nearby town collapsed each year for the lack of an adequate structure.

In front of it was a swimming pool, which almost filled the front garden. Behind that was a wide, covered porch area. On the ground floor of the house itself, and overlooking the pool, was a very large lounge-cum-dining area, situated next to a long kitchen that also contained an eating area; this could easily be cleaned of the debris that the boys would undoubtedly leave behind.

Alongside the house and front garden with its pool, was a long driveway that led to a wooden car port, beyond which was a raised and tiled platform; this could also be accessed by French doors leading into the lounge, and was used only occasionally as an outside casual dining area.

The week before the boys arrived, the doting grandparents had bought two decent quality tennis rackets from a large sports store in a nearby main town; these were sized according to the age groups of the boys, together with a sleeve of six yellow tennis balls.

The first full day of the holiday, the boys woke up full of the joys of summer, which encouraged Terry and Sandra to wash and dress hurriedly so that they could fill them with large continental breakfasts of cereal, freshly-crushed orange juice and giant croissants. Afterwards, they presented them with their new rackets and balls, and were pleased to see how quickly they responded by putting on their trainers and sports gear.

Promptly, they drove them to the nearest municipal sports centre, in order for them to use up some of their boundless energy. Much to their surprise, the boys whacked the ball accurately over the net towards each other, using an overhand service and more often than not, bouncing it into the correct service-court.

Afterwards, they returned home for more to eat, and a period of relaxation sitting in the wide, covered porch area. Eventually, the boys got bored and, until their demands were met, nagged incessantly to be allowed to get into the pool.

Terry already had a face mask, breathing tube and flippers, and he secretly offered them to Bart for use during the holiday. Bart put them on and leapt into the pool behind the unsuspecting Seb, sweeping past him at a rate of knots to achieve dominance in the water. This led to howls of protest from Seb, until Terry agreed to buy him similar underwater equipment later in the week.

Then the boys remembered the ugly black, rubber rings that they had brought with them in their luggage, and effortlessly blew those up for buoyancy, before charging at each other in the water, and bouncing back with shrieks of laughter. Terry joined in the fun only once, protecting himself by putting the rings, one on top of the other on his body, so that they couldn’t push him under the surface. In retaliation, they pulled his trunks down, which he couldn’t reach because of the rings.

Later that day, after the sun had passed its zenith, and the searing heat was passing its peak, the boys enjoyed a late lunch. For a while, they tolerated a short period of relaxation, playing with their various board games and model cars, before being driven to one of the small hard-surfaced pitches that were dotted around the local town, where they could indulge their love of football for an hour or so.

The long day finally reached a conclusion as the four of them sat down together at the evening meal table, and discussed events in general. After clearing the table with the boys, who also helped with the washing up, the grandparents had a couple of hours to relax together while the boys went to bed. They took this period to unwind, sitting in front of the TV watching British programmes, or reading, while they sipped small glasses of wine.

Generally, the boys went to sleep after an hour of chatting excitedly together, or reading books borrowed from Terry’s extensive library, which included a collection of children’s classics.

In the days that followed, at breakfast they continued to munch through mountainous bowls of cereal and round after round of toast. They also developed a liking for olive oil and salt on the toast, with slices of strong goat’s cheese and mature cheddar.

This food intake, coupled with the large glasses of fruit juice they guzzled at the same time, was found to be a suitable start for the sports-filled days, provided there was also a mid-morning snack, called ‘almuerzo’ in this region of Spain, an hour or so before having lunch. In some places, almuerzo could turn into something monumentally filling.

This sequence of activities became routine, but with an increasingly competitive edge that bordered on open warfare. In the tennis courts, the grandparents noticed that the ball was being directed at each other with some venom, causing cries of anger and loud protests whenever the true target was hit.

Cut it out! Sandra would shout at them.

Stop it now, or we’ll all go home! she would threaten, but peace never lasted long.

In the end, it would turn into gladiatorial combat, with the rules forgotten and the rackets being used as makeshift clubs and shields. They would quickly be separated by Sandra into their own ends of the court, and the game would resume, with good behaviour restored. However, balls would sail out of the court, as they soared over the surrounding high nets, and become lodged at the top of the bordering trees.

This pattern – but losing only a few more balls - was repeated each time that they played tennis, which was arranged most days to help exhaust them. Feeling mildly defeated, Sandra even joined in a few times, to calm down their behaviour, but pulled a leg muscle trying to kick Bart on his backside; Terry too was bullied into joining in, but sprained his serving wrist and had to put an elasticated support on it for a few days, soaked in cold water.

The daily swim in the household pool was far more enjoyable for the grandparents, being somewhere they could watch their mischievous offspring letting off steam without them attracting a curious audience and getting embarrassed.

However, daily visits to the football pitches also became ultra-competitive. They ducked, weaved and body-checked with the football that they had been bought, and then took it in turns to kick it at high velocity into an unprotected net, neither daring to stand in front of the other to be used for target practice.

Other boys would watch them play from the sidelines, but none felt the urge to join them, as they gave free rein to their competitive streak and shouted abuse at each other. It was little wonder that Duncan had reportedly undergone a vasectomy rather than risk his marriage by having more children.

But there was one more fly in the ointment: wherever and whenever they walked, they would feint, stick out a leg, or kick at Terry sideways, as if he was their opponent.

It became tiring to be at the receiving end of so much physical attention, directed solely at him, and they kept on doing it. Bart was the worst, since Terry could at least talk with Seb and make him realise that he was not used to being kicked and tripped up.

He was also getting annoyed at their calling him ‘Bampi’, which is the Welsh word for ‘Granddad; it reminded Terry of the cute little deer portrayed by Walt Disney in the film Bambi. He’d had his leg pulled by his mates when they’d heard him being addressed like he was a blooming baby deer.

"Call me anything but Bampi, he pleaded. Try Gramps or Granddad instead." But they always came back with that blasted word, knowing it aggravated him.

Clearly, neither Sandra nor Terry wanted to live with this exhausting routine for the full holiday, so between them they hatched a better way of keeping the boys amused. ‘Divide and conquer’ was to be their motto, moving the gruesome twosome outside their comfort zone: the world of sports.

The plan was for him to entertain Seb the Savage and for her to concentrate on Bart the Barbarian.

§ 2: Investigations Into UFOs

The year before this current visit, Terry and Sandra had flown to the UK from Spain and stayed with Chrissie, Duncan and the two boys, during the boys’ Easter holiday. While there, they had gained the parents’ approval to take the youngsters up for a few days to the town in South Wales where they, the grandparents, had spent their childhood over fifty years ago.

Terry had arranged for the four of them to stay in bed and breakfast accommodation, near the mining village where he and Sandra had had both lived. For Terry especially, it was a return to his roots, and he wanted to give the boys the chance to see what life had been like when they were young.

They had hired a car near where their daughter and son-in-law lived North of London, and they set off late afternoon for a journey that Terry estimated would take about five hours. This was longer than normal, since he proposed leaving the M4 motorway and re-joining it later, to give them a taste of how tortuous the journey could be before it was completed.

It was getting dark when Sandra, who was map reading, indicated to Terry where they should turn off the M4 outside the town of Swindon, in the county of Wiltshire.

Where are we going? asked the ever-inquisitive Bart.

We’re going onto unlit country roads of the type we had to use before the motorway was fully completed, Terry droned, as he concentrated on entering the roundabout that they were approaching. Like a tour guide, he continued, This was an unwelcome cross-country trek that often extended the total time required to more than three hours.

Sandra indicated the exit road for them to take, while Terry continued his running commentary, As was customary, we had to follow signs diverting us onto the narrow roads. Bart rolled his eyes in exasperation at Seb, who quickly turned to look out of the side window, and found he was barely able to see any of the scenery in the fading light.

Within the half-hour, they could see the lights of a complex of low buildings and what appeared to be a runway. This was confirmed by Terry who glanced over and announced, To our right is the RAF airport of Lyneham.

They heard the engines of an approaching jet, and saw a commercial plane, silhouetted by its lights, as it flew immediately overhead with an almighty roar. Instinctively, the boys ducked.

Terry glanced again towards the airport, and said, On the horizon, we have a side view of a large helicopter, with a soft, yellow interior light shining through its portholes. I assume that it’s a twin rotor-bladed Chinook. As an aside, he added, Keep watching, it’s coming towards us!

They all got more than they bargained for.

Oh lord, it’s round! Sandra exclaimed.

Both boys pressed their heads against the rear side window on the driver’s side of the car, looking upwards. "Woo!" they exclaimed.

I can’t see anything! Terry shouted. Oh, wait a minute, I can now! he said excitedly, peering upwards through the windscreen for as long as he could.

The base of a circular craft passing silently overhead was bathed evenly in a soft yellow light, which seemed to originate from within the surface itself. It was almost as if a torch was being focused on it. The metallic underside had no identifying symbols on it, and was one single, smooth unit with no joints to be seen where panels might have been welded or riveted together.

Near the outside rim was a row of well-spaced open, round holes. Through them could be seen a single, slowly rotating beam of light, which was violet in colour; it appeared to be rotating clockwise from a central point.

Terry shouted, Feast your eyes, boys! I want a full report from all of you, in writing within the hour!

Sandra looked at him. Do you think you’re still a policeman? she asked crossly. Who’d you think you’re talking to?

Seeing the opportunity to stop, he put the emergency blinkers on, screeched off the road to halt in front of a field gate, opened his door and rushed out. The object he’d seen was now too far away for him to make out anything worth seeing. Other cars in front must have seen the object too, since they had all slowed down.

Ignoring the other cars, Sandra opened her door and got out, while the boys stared at their grandparents through the nearest closed windows. Sandra confronted Terry, saying accusingly, You were going to run off and leave us, weren’t you?

Of course not! he spluttered.

I saw which way you were heading, when you got out of the car! she challenged him.

Recovering his composure, he said pompously, Let’s not get carried away and say things we might regret. That is, unless you want to drive the rest of the way?

She glared at him and got back in, closing and locking the doors so he couldn’t insist on her changing places with him.

They had driven the rest of the way in silence, after getting back onto the motorway. However, they did have two stops en route at service stations, where he made the boys write brief reports on what they’d seen. Then he busied himself checking their sightings against the notes which he was also preparing. Naturally, Sandra remained aloof and refused to comply with his ‘request’.

The rest of the visit to their hometown went smoothly enough, although there was one incident that really rattled the three males. Sandra had refused to accompany them when Terry parked at the top of a steep hill, which led down to the house where Terry’s parents had lived, from when he was eleven years old. It was located at the end of a long lane branching off the hill and, whilst it was flat, it was unlit and unmade.

It was pitch black when they made the journey, and a repeat of a visit made the day before in full daylight.

I used to walk down here every school day, in the dark, carrying my satchel, he said proudly. Come on, let’s go! he challenged them, and off they went, with the boys trailing their presumably mad grandfather. He had brought a torch with him, but hardly used it so their eyes could get used to the dark.

The moon shone between thick, fast moving clouds, so occasionally they could see some of the embedded stones in the compacted earth, before they stubbed their toes on them. Terry would also help by turning on the torch for a few seconds to light the ground in front of them.

They were walking between rows on both sides of terraced and detached Victorian style gabled houses, many of which looked inviting; lights could be seen through open curtains, with people moving around inside. Eventually, they reached a section of empty lane with fields and hedges beyond.

I don’t want to go down there, it looks scary! Bart said, getting ready to run.

"Well I had to! Terry said indignantly. My house is at the end of the lane!"

In a softer tone, he said, Come on, it’s only a few hundred yards! Bart and Seb wondered what the distance really was, but reluctantly trailed after him after he turned on the torch.

They were about half way down when Seb said, I can hear a loud humming noise coming nearer, can you?

Terry paused and listened. Yes, I can too! he confirmed. By this time it was getting really loud. Making a snap decision and turning off the torch, he herded the boys into the line of thick overhanging saplings on their right, and they pressed themselves against the slim branches as far as they could go. They all closed their eyes and pressed their ears, as an invisible object passed directly overhead, making a deep-pitched buzzing noise.

After it had receded into the distance, Terry said, Whatever that was, it sounded like an artificial object. It was certainly not a swarm of bees; what’d you think? The boys murmured in agreement.

"Well I’m not going in that direction, Seb said promptly. It was heading towards your old home!"

Let’s head back, Terry replied. If that had happened when I lived here, I’d have been checking that my parents weren’t acting strangely!

Yes, that was a short visit packed full of memorable encounters, and Terry was glad to have shared them with his grandsons. What their parents must have made of their boys’ adventures was unsure, since they never had any feedback from them. They probably didn’t believe a word they were told.

Returning to the present, these past events gave Terry the seed of an idea, which he could build on to keep Seb occupied. He started his proposed tactics by separating Seb from Bart and speaking to him in a confidential manner. He did this by insisting that Bart go and speak to his grandmother in the kitchen, while he took his older grandson upstairs, via the long marble staircase, to his improvised study, which was used occasionally as a third bedroom.

At least when they were in there, it would be difficult for the awesomely nosy Bart to eavesdrop on their conversation. That boy could hear a pin drop!

Of the three bedrooms upstairs, the main one used by the grandparents occupied almost half the house, with a sumptuous en-suite bathroom and adjoining dressing room. The second and third bedrooms occupied the other, larger half of the space upstairs, plus a small family bathroom that Seb regularly and flatly refused to use after his younger brother had contaminated it.

Listen Seb, Terry began after closing the study door. I know we haven’t always got on well in the past, but I’d like to change all that. Do you think we could work together on a special mission I have in mind?

Seb looked at him warily, not entirely trusting his crafty grandfather, who he thought was up to something. Nevertheless, he nodded his approval, slowly saying, Okay… Little did he know it but he was embarking on a chain of events that would change his life forever.

Terry puffed up his chest with pride and, as he had often done before, announced, You might not know it, but before I retired I was an ace detective of some standing in the Metropolitan Police.

Trying to deflate his ego, Seb asked wickedly, You mean you stood in a sentry box outside Buckingham Palace?

"For two pennies I’d give you a good slapping you little toad! Terry vowed silently, rattled by the sham idiocy of his grandson. Taking a deep breath, he continued, No, young Sebastian, it means that I was a well-regarded officer with a very high arrest rate. I nearly always caught the villains I was after."

Seb had a quiet chuckle at that response; it was one that Terry used whenever he was caught off-guard. "Young Sebastian indeed!"

Terry continued, "I want to talk to you about Unidentified Flying Objects".

Seb’s interest pricked up. Like many youngsters, he watched a lot of TV programmes and films that featured UFOs.

Have you ever seen any others, like the one we saw last year? he asked his grandfather.

Yes, more than once, Terry confirmed. "One that comes to mind was in the 1980s, when I was a detective. I had to interview someone at their office high up in a skyscraper, in the City of London. There was no one else in the room while I waited to speak to the individual concerned, and I happened to glance out of the window at the buildings far below; something unusual caught my eye. It was a small orange globe rolling along a corrugated roof of a factory, near Leadenhall Street.

Hello, hello, what’s going on here? I asked myself, bending at the knees, hands clasped behind my back.

At first, I thought it was ball lightning, until it suddenly streaked into the air at a steep angle in what looked to me like a controlled flight. My suspicion was that it was one of those so-called ‘Foo Fighters’ that were reported by many bomber aircrews in the Second World War. These were orange globes that the men thought were secret weapons developed by the Germans.

Seb asked, I wonder why there aren’t more reports of sightings?

Terry replied, Probably because they’re suppressed by the authorities. Besides, people rarely look up at the skies.

Seb thought about it and nodded.

Terry added, "Also, I think whoever’s out there is getting cautious, there being so many cameras available.

"What I’d like you to do now is to sit in front of my computer. There you’ll find a list containing all the sightings that are of interest, prepared by UFO investigators. I want you to plough through that list for at least one hour, starting at the beginning and looking at the matching sites on the Internet.

We’ll talk again after you’ve had a chance to consider the viewpoints of UFOlogists and sceptics. The latter don’t seem willing to believe anything if they haven’t seen it personally. You need encouragement to think more deeply about it all.

He then left the room, as Seb began his research work.

Seb became totally absorbed as he accessed the various website addresses, and was intrigued by the painstakingly accumulated listings by Albert Rosales, and the recollections of a Robert Hall, who one can reasonably assume encountered aliens as a young boy.

After the allotted one hour, he went downstairs and gently tapped his irascible, snoozing grandfather on the shoulder to awaken him. "I’ve finished, Bampi,’ he said, as Terry stopped snoring and his eyes opened.

Ah good! he responded, stretching his arms above his head. Have you any comments to make about what you’ve read?

Seb replied, rubbing his eyes, Many of them involved close encounters with small aliens; these looked either like miniature humans, or they had skinny bodies, large heads and almond-shaped eyes!

Terry commented, A bit like you and Bart! he said, grinning. Seb glared at him but didn’t reply, so Terry continued, "However, what really grabbed my attention was the cluster of reports about aerial combat, supposedly between warring aliens over towns in Germany, France and Holland. These happened in the 17th century and the descriptions tallied with those being reported these days!

"In Nice, or Nizza