Diamonds in the Sky Book Two: Diamonds in the Sky, #2

By Lance Steen Nielsen

Seventy Two hours ago mankind learned it was no longer alone in
the Universe. Two-hundred Alien vessels landed all over the world,
but all attempts to communicate with the ships or gain access to them by world governments have failed.

In America mother Diana Morrow, now reunited with her children,
arrives at her brother's retreat, but finds herself under
investigation following her encounter with one of the ships.

In the United Kingdom, new Prime Minister Ryan Wallace is mired
in conspiratorial forces from both outside his party and within.

In Parks, Australia, Station Chief Rafferty James has his lifetimes
work vindicated but his own attempts to examine the ships up close are
constantly met with frustration, until, someone little comes knocking on his door.

However, in Chad, Africa, young Joy Fakim, having saved a group of
orphans from being sex trafficked, is granted access inside.
What they discover could change the balance in humanity forever.
But the question on the lips of every human being on our planet
still remains unanswered:

Are the alien ships here for our salvation or annihilation?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lance Steen Nielsen
• Release date: Feb 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393414957

Lance Steen Nielsen

Lance Steen Anthony Nielsen hails originally from the town of Kingston-upon-Thames, or Surbiton if you wish to be really precise, where he was brought up by an English mother and Danish father He then studied Audio Visual Design at Epsom School of Art and Design (Now Surrey Institute of Art & Design) He was the resident playwright for the Jacksons Lane Theatre from 1997 until 2002 where his first play ‘Waiting for Hillsborough’ won him the Best Talent in New Writing, at the Liverpool Arts and Entertainment Awards. His next play, ‘Sticks and Stones’, covered three families’ lives over four decades during the conflict in Northern Ireland and brought him much critical acclaim. He has also written it has a television pilot to develop as a drama series. ‘The Victoria Climbie Inquiry’ earned him Time Out magazine Critics Choice, while his play 'Making Time' won him a Peter Brook Empty Space Award. He also wrote and directed the plays ‘Fragile’, ‘Hi I’m Vince’ and ‘Signing On’.  Additionally, he won a Peggy Ramsay award and has had plays produced at The Hackney Empire, Bridewell, Landor, Lion and Unicorn, The Mask in Liverpool, The Stratford Arts and Hen & Chickens Old Red Lion Theatres. He also wrote & directed the play about the inquiry into The Marchioness Disaster. He recently just completed writing a play about the making of the original The Magnificent Seven movie entitled ‘Seven Magnificent Egos’. Additionally, he has also written & directed several short films, including two which link to his novel and the award-winning feature film ‘The Journey’ which is set in Greece starring Lindsey Coulson & Jason Flemyng. Since then he has written numerous feature film screenplays including the television drama series Paratrooper about European Airborne Forces in World War 2 which shot a promo trailer in 2019 and is currently pitching for funding. Most recently Lance wrote & directed the critically acclaimed play ‘Borderlands’ , where the audience would vote to decide the fate of the protagonist. Currently, he is co-writing the play ‘Who We Are’ with LGBT activist Stephen Hart.

Book preview

Part One

The orphans of babylon

Chapter I

‘Thirty years or so ago

Men of vision had a wish,

And they worked upon a plan,

And the plan became a dish.

And she served them long and well

As they probed the endless sky,

Seeking answers to the riddles,

What was out there, where and why?

And they gather here today

Having come from near and far,

To wish her happy birthday,

For today she is the star.’

---

Betty Siegman, Australian Telescope National Facility, 22 November 1991

RAFFERTY

THE TOWN OF PARKES, NEW SOUTH WALES, AUSTRALIA, - APRIL 2nd - DAY OF PAROUSIA

S o, mate how’s it going up at The Dish?  Has ET phoned home yet Raff? Because if he has, could you ask him about next weekend’s lottery numbers for me? It was Callum, his thick accent grating on every word. Rafferty turned to face the tatty trio, or The Three Stooges, as he had named Callum and his two brothers, each dressed in a combination of oily rags and denim hand me downs. Rafferty put on an amiable smile, feigning their barely disguised insult as mistaken good humour on his part.

Doubtful fellas. Unless the Aliens we are trying to communicate with have actually mastered the means of time travel. It occurred to him that if an alien species had mastered such a technology and the first humans they encountered were the trio standing before him now, they would probably use it to go back to the dawn of humanity and erase the entire species from the timeline of history.

So, come on then Raff, what’s the latest on project Break-Up?" Stooge Number One pressed sarcastically.

It’s not project Break-Up! Raff did that with his wife before he got here, didn’t you Raff? It’s project Breakthrough. I read about it on the internet." Chimed Stooge Number Two.

I didn’t know you could read mate. The first one joked to the second, insulting each other being part of their daily routine.

What can The Dish do now that it couldn’t do before then Raff? Callum asked. Rafferty knew the question was rhetorical. The men had previously feigned interest in the project when Callum had driven him up to The Dish, he had first arrived in Parkes, a conversation which had signalled the beginning of the never-ending piss taking campaign regarding his professional occupation.

I know you’re not really interested. And it’s Rafferty. He hated them calling him Raff, they made it sound like riff-raff and he didn’t like the implied association.

I thought your name was James? Countered Stooge Number One.

Yeah mate. Rafferty is your surname, right? Said the third.

Guys you know it is not. How’s things at the mechanics? He had a vague recollection that Callum owned a garage of some sort, the man having offered to sell him a car once. He’d declined.

Busier than you, by the looks of things. So, anyone from another universe talking to you yet? Said the tallest.

Sadly, just you three at present. Rafferty replied, knowing that no one at all would have been the truthful response. Jake, I’ll take my burger in the booth when it’s ready.

Rafferty got up, taking his pint and unopened mail, and sat down in one of the empty booths by the window.

I heard they’re going to cut the funding to the project soon, so he might be out of a job. Callum said, deliberately giving the last few words extra volume.

Be a real shame that. Considering he gave up his life, wife and family in New Zealand for, what was it, Wally? Added Stooge Number One.

Nothing. Replied Stooge Number Two. They all laughed. The worst thing was, he knew they were right.

Knock it off guys. Leave the guy alone. His place of work brings over half the tourists revenue to Parkes, so you’d better hope it doesn’t get shut down otherwise your businesses will be in the shit. Jake the barman’s words coincided with the arrival of two ladies which was the decider in refocusing their attention elsewhere.

Rafferty sunk down into the tired brown leather booth, fondling the envelope in front of him, his thoughts turning to his wife and children back in Auckland. He wasn’t even entirely sure where they were living now. After his last confrontational Skype with his ex, she had kicked him off and blocked him from her Social Media accounts and he’d had to resort to apologetic pleading emails just to see pictures of Cass and Noah. His boys were growing up so fast.

You brought this on yourself Raff. She had repeatedly told him and he knew it was true. His passion to join Project Listen in Parkes had been his undoing. Where had it got him? Nowhere. Worse still this was the only place he could get a decent burger which meant running the ridicule gauntlet from the The Three Stooges who had nothing better to do than make his occupation the brunt of their ill-considered humour. A profession which he considered to be one of the most important on the planet – The search for extraterrestrial life. Ever since he and his father had seen an unusual ball of light during their holiday to the South Island in 1984, he’d devoured every book he could find on the subject. Noting the date, he was reminded that it was two years ago today this April that he gave up on his life back home and now began pondering if his employers might consider re-assigning him elsewhere?

Technically, Rafferty worked for the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO) but it wasn’t the Australian scientific organisation that had led him to leave his home country of New Zealand, what had enticed him was the chance to be part of the new International effort called the Breakthrough Initiatives. Funded by renown Russian physicist and business entrepreneur Yuri Milner. (Apparently the man did have a more complex and lengthy Russian surname but Rafferty’s attempts at pronouncing it correctly had all ended in embarrassing failure, so Milner was easier) Breakthrough Initiatives were a number of separate scientific research programmes and Rafferty’s was Breakthrough Listen the goal of which was to search and detect communications from extra-terrestrial life within the universe, or in other words, anything not of human origin.

Assigned to achieve the goals of Breakthrough Listen were two of the world’s most powerful telescopes – The Green Bank Telescope located in West Virginia in the U.S.A and Australia’s Parkes Telescope, (Known affectionately by locals as The Dish) where he’d arrived two years earlier. The Dish was located twenty Kilometres north from the small town of Parkes itself. It meant a regular drive had to be undertaken in order to achieve reaching the bar in question. You could only eat so much of the same food at The Dish Café located next door, even if they did serve good scones. It wasn’t that he disliked Parkes, the town and its people were for the most part, very charming. But as he stared at his reflection in the front window, he was nagged with self-doubt. Staring back at him he saw a man who was the epitome of failure. Despite being well funded, Breakthrough Listen had achieved precious little in the way of tangible results since he joined but Rafferty was still counting the things it had cost him personally.

He looked again at the unopened letter, knowing it could be only one thing. As he sipped slowly on his lager, he habitually played with his golden wedding ring on his left finger, something he still couldn’t bring himself to remove. When he’d arrived in Parkes, life had held so much promise, so much joy, he’d felt so alive again and had been determined to achieve great things. He thought the job had even offered the possibility of romance with one the Chinese students, who were with them for the first couple of years. It soon became evident that his attempts to woo the woman were more a source of amusement to her colleagues than being on a path to success and with their studies finished, she soon left for Beijing with the rest of them. Now it was just him and Gerry again. He had sacrificed everything and achieved nothing. He missed New Zealand and he missed his children.

Ahh Rafferty, it’s time to throw away childish things. No one from space is listening. No one from space is coming. Maybe it’s time to go home. He mumbled to himself. He’d saved some money; he could go home and beg for some amicable custody arrangement, but he knew amicable was not a word in his ex-wife’s dictionary. He’d heard through friends that she had taken up with some lifeguard called Terry Legs, which made him laugh because if she married him, she would be called Leslie Legs. How hilarious would that be? She didn’t even have nice legs.

Ignore those dingo’s mate. Bunch of idiots, the three of them. Jake said reassuringly as he dropped the hot plate containing a juicy burger and crispy chips down in front of him. The smell gave Rafferty cause to manage a weak smile in return before sinking his teeth into the warm bun and the comforting gooey cheese that coated the dripping meat contained within. His face was immediately covered with relish which in his married days would have caused Leslie to immediately chastise him for being a messy eater. Burgers were supposed to be messy.

He’d barely swallowed his first mouthful when he felt a soft tremor beneath his feet. Like the beginnings of an earthquake, ever growing vibrations came from the floor beneath him, shaking the table, causing his pint to travel along the wooden surface.  Outside, his attention was drawn to an eruption of bleating car alarms began rudely sounding off, across the streets of Parkes. With a squeal of brakes, a car pulled up to an abrupt halt outside, its driver and passenger promptly exiting their vehicle and looking up, into the clear night sky.

Is it an earthquake? Jake yelled as he and several customers dived under tables while glasses filled with lager sloshed their contents across the tables. One lady reached up and retrieved her wine as  she huddled down the corner with her friend. Rafferty knew there had been a few quakes before in New South Wales but nothing serious since the one recorded in 1961, some considerable time before he was born. He noticed a man walking his dog across the road had stopped and stood, his hand above his eyes, looking up at something but Rafferty couldn’t see what. Snatching a couple of fries from his plate, he dashed for the door as the tremors began to recede. Once on his feet he could tell it was not an earthquake. He noted that The Three Stooges were cowering under the table, trying to persuade the two young ladies to join them.

You’ll be safer with us girls. Sure, really safe.

He burst outside, the cool evening air of Parkes greeting him. Car and building alarms still rang out angrily, drawing out the locals, who gathered to investigate. All were transfixed gang skyward to the North. Then Rafferty saw the cause of their fascination - An unearthly, floating star shaped Leviathan, an object so colossal, that it could only be described as alien, moving slowly across the town’s horizon. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, elegant in its design, graceful in its slow but deliberate movement, its size dwarfing the buildings of Parkes beneath it. Travelling from East to West it was passing the town a few miles to the North. Rafferty stood in complete awe, trying to guess at its size. The circular middle span of the structure must have been several kilometres across, perhaps ten? Twenty even?

Proof. Definitive proof. He started to laugh, louder and louder. His heart filled with joy, he turned to see Jake standing behind him, as rooted as the rest. He grabbed the young barman by the shoulders and continued to laugh uncontrollably, as his three adversaries emerged from the bar, all in a state of shock. He couldn’t help but dance around them.

So, what do you think of that then fellas, hey? Think we broke through do ya? I think we did! I think we did!

The trio briefly stood speechless, before bolting for their truck across the street.

Why you running guys? What’s the problem? I invited them here! Don’t you want to meet them? Rafferty continued laughing as the men jumped inside their vehicle and sped away. He wondered what they would have to say to him next time. Pricks. Gerry. He needed to see this. He pulled his phone and called him.

Hello… He sounded sleepy.

Gerry, stop watching Atlanta Housewives and get over to Parkes right now. You need to see this!

You haven’t eaten a bad chilli burger again, have you?

What? No. Get outside now and look towards Parkes and just get here.

He hung up just as Jake tapped him on the shoulder.

Erm… Raff… I mean Rafferty… Mr James. I think it’s landing.

Sure enough, the object appeared to descend, just north of town.  Good God. The potential of a Close Encounter of the Third Kind, within his very grasp! He had to be dreaming! He saw others pull out their phones and begin recording, some of them speaking into their live social media accounts, comments full of surprise and wonder at what they were witnessing. Of course! Get evidence! He frantically pulled his Samsung back out from his jeans and pressed record on the video function passing the phone to Jake.

Jake, film me, can you get me and… and is it in shot? He asked demandingly. Jake took a couple of steps back and reframed the image.

Okay I’ve got it. Go. Jake’s eyes continued to widen as Rafferty addressed the camera.

Hi, this is Rafferty James recording this from the town of Parkes, New South Wales, Australia. I am one of the team working on Breakthrough Listen at the Parkes Radio Telescope where I imagine our team is making similar reports at this very moment. Boy, have we had a break through tonight. Project Breakthrough Listen has evidently been noticed by someone because what you can see behind me now is evidently not of this earth! I. I can’t even guess at the size but as you can see its star shaped, almost like a spinning top with the lower point of the structure travelling close to the ground…

He frantically turned towards the object and back to the camera as he spoke.

Just north of the town… it appears to be landing… it’s just incredible… I hope my kids are watching this back in New Zealand because if they are… well Cass, Noah! Your Dad was right! Look at that! Look at it! It’s beautiful. Just incredible! Like… like a huge diamond, a diamond in the sky…

RYAN

COBRA MEETING ROOM, LONDON, ENGLAND, APRIL 10th, ONE WEEL AFTER PAROUSIA

Ryan studied the image on screen before him. The man’s face was as stereotypical a picture of a terrorist as there might ever have been, the man responsible for the death of his friend. A friend whom he’d only buried yesterday in a full state funeral with all the pomp and pageantry befitting for the late Prime Minister, David Jackson. Now it was time to bring his murderers to justice.

This man is Tariq Muhmood. We believe he is the mastermind behind the Paris terrorist attack. Of Moroccan descent, born in the slums of the French capital, his Grandfather served with the Free French in the battle to liberate France during World War Two. Father died young, mother unknown. Believed to have no other living relatives in mainland Europe. He joined the French military at eighteen and served until he was twenty-eight. He’s done tours in the Middle East and then undertook intelligence training. He left the army five years ago and since then he’s thought to have been involved in private security work. He’s not been on any terrorist watch list until today.

Ryan walked over to the screen on the wall. This was the man responsible for Ryan being thrust into the unwanted role of leader, the man responsible for him having to give up Candice and destroying his otherwise peaceful life.

How old is this photograph? He asked General Spears.

This is from his late army records, taken in his twenties, he would be thirty-three years of age now.

Ryan turned, looking at a room filled with the same faces as that first COBRA meeting five days ago. Everyone looked as if they’d a year since then. He doubted few, if any, had managed a full night’s sleep between them. Julie Compton who had now officially taken over as the head of MI5 from her deceased predecessor was the only one who looked well rested. Her suit, hair and makeup were always immaculate. She put further images up on the screen, showing two more men of similar ethnicity. The first was middle-aged, his face swollen to a pulp, the second was of a younger man caught on CCTV paying for petrol at a service station.

These two men are believed to be his accomplices. The older man was Karim Mudatar, also a Moroccan, he was killed in a gun fight with French Police. Both men come from the same district in North Paris which is a breeding ground for ISIS recruits as we know. The man in the third image is yet to be identified but he is believed to be between eighteen to twenty years of age and either Moroccan or Egyptian.

Ryan sat at the head of the table, downing a glass of water. His body ached in every place he thought possible, his head throbbing with pain. He hadn’t had any cocaine in nearly a week now and his body was craving it as he went through the process of withdrawal.

So, do we have any idea where this Tariq might be now? Ryan asked hopefully.

It is our belief, Prime Minister, with his counterintelligence training that he has taken on a new identity and will have access to a network of safe houses, sympathisers and financial resources under false names which will make him very difficult to track. After leaving the army he did some contract work for a private company called Executive Armour, an outfit which provides security teams for firms re-building in Syria, Iraq and so on. They have an office in London. We’re hoping to get a full employment record from them later today. General Spears finally sat down.

Good job General. You’re to be commended for the speed in which you obtained this information. Ryan had to give him his due.

Just doing my job, Prime Minister.

So, what’s our next move?

Compton switched off the screen as she answered. MI5 will follow up on all known associates working alongside Interpol but obviously we’re at the beck and call of the French. It happened on their soil. This is their investigation.

But we must be getting full cooperation to have obtained these identities from them so quickly? Ryan certainly hoped so. It had all happened on their damn watch, after all.

Silence abruptly intruded itself into the room, like an unwanted guest that had wandered into dinner. Police Commissioner Derrick Winston was quick to address the elephant in the room.

Sorry. If this information didn’t come from the French, where did it come from? He asked.

Confidential intelligence sources. General Spears answered the question succinctly.

Have we shared this information with the French? Ryan thought it an obvious course of action.

Not yet Prime Minister. Spears replied.

Why the hell not? They’re the ones running point on this attack, aren’t they?

Julie Compton looked as though she was going to answer but the General cut in, his voice sucking the air out of the room.

We cannot afford to compromise intelligence assets that we have in the field, Prime Minister, including some within the hierarchy of the French military. When the timing is right, we’ll see to it that they, and all other international agencies are given this information.

You’ll see to it? This man murdered one hundred and twenty-nine of our own people! We should be releasing his picture to the press today! Now! Ryan wanted this Tariq caught, the sooner the better.

Mr Prime Minister, this is a man who has received years of counterintelligence training. He knows how to disappear. If he knows we’ve identified him, then he’ll completely go to ground. We may never find him. But if he thinks he’s safe then we have a better chance of him making a mistake.

Ryan couldn’t fault the General’s logic. He took a breath and composed himself. I’m sorry General. I just want those responsible to be brought to justice.

As we do all Prime Minister and I have teams in the field at this very moment whose sole purpose is to apprehend this man and we will get him. Just give them time to do their jobs.

The General leaned over and gave Ryan a squeeze on the shoulder. Touching, but he still hated the man for making him throw all his coke down the toilet.

"Right, moving on to the little question of our alien friends…’

Sorry before we do, I’d like to make one further observation if I may. Julie Compston interrupted, causing Ryan to sigh.

This attack on our government was well planned in advance. French witnesses to the attack confirmed this group changed their position at the last moment. I believe there must have been a fourth or possibly even a fifth member of the cell within the airport itself. I’ve passed this concern onto the French Police and they’re now in the process of identifying everyone who entered the airport that day to see if we can pin down anyone who had a connection to these men.

That must be thousands of people. Darren Fine spoke up finally. Ryan noticed he had been rather subdued this morning.

Tens of thousands. Compston added factually. It is my belief that for this attack to have been so co-ordinated the perpetrators must have had access to inside information, including such details as the plane number, the take off time and the fact that it changed runaways at the very last minute.

Surely such details could have come from airport porters, cleaners or maintenance staff? Half of them are made up of the immigrants, aren’t they? Fine retorted.

More than half I would say. Chimed in Commissioner Winston.

Yes, that’s true but they would not have known the schedule of the anti-terrorist conference in Paris. That was kept out of the press until the day of its occurrence plus the conference ended early. They didn’t just get lucky. The security cameras at routes coming in and out of the adjacent village where the cell set up their attack were disabled two days earlier. The weapon that destroyed the plane has been confirmed to be a Stinger Anti-Aircraft Missile. A considerably difficult weapon to obtain, even on the black market.

The attacks on 9/11 were planned against America without any inside help. Ryan speculated.

If you don’t count the failure of the FBI and CIA to share their own intelligence. Spears countered.

Yes, but their objectives, buildings of state and national landmarks have always been there, they were not organic targets which required tangible intelligence updating their daily movements. This cell would have needed not only those details but considerable resources to pull off an attack like this. I don’t think this is Isis or the Syrian Defence League. This has the hallmarks of something else. The head of MI5 countered.

Is that all Ms Compston? Ryan wanted to get a move on, he had many other things to deal with today, not least was his plan to get his hands on some Uncle Charlie.

Ms Compston is this just a theory or do you have any evidence? Asked the First Sea Lord, Admiral Flemyng, his polished buttons catching glints of sunlight from the long bay windows.

I am looking at what the evidence tells me so far. This was planned by professionals with access to our own timetables and information. They couldn’t have predicted the arrival of two hundred alien vessels would result in our plane leaving a day earlier, but they were still able to react accordingly. Whoever was behind this attack must have been planning it for months. Compston’s tone left no ambiguity. If she was right it was another messy security breach but fortunately one which Ryan was not responsible for.

The bloody French were in overall charge of security at the conference. If this man Muhmood served in their army for ten years, isn’t it possible that they have somehow been compromised? Foreign Secretary Basil Badgers chimed in.

All the more reason to keep what we know to ourselves for now. General Spears said.  

Or it could have been someone in French Air Traffic Control. Flight plans have to be filed ahead of time after all. Chief Whip, Horace Saunders contributed which Ryan thought only confused matters further.

Reading between the lines of all this Ms Compston, are you saying that we may have been compromised by someone on our own side? Commissioner Winston asked.

It is one possibility that we should keep our minds firmly attuned too. Compton replied.

The room fell silent. No one wanted to think such a possibility could be true. It would make whoever was responsible the most wanted individual in England.

Ms Compston, I would like a report outlining all the possible scenarios you think we should be keeping our minds attuned towards on my desk as soon as possible. Ryan thought it best he covered everything. No one could say he hadn’t done his due diligence that way.

Yes, Mr Prime Minister. I’ll have something outlined for you in forty-eight hours. We may of course know a great deal more by then. Information is trickling in all the time.

Very good. So, onto the smaller problem then. Our alien friends. I see there’s civilian protests on the streets all over China. Who’s going to update me first because it has to be said, I am getting a little bit frustrated going before the cameras at our press briefings and being able to tell them absolutely nothing about our alien friends…

JOY

BABYLON, EAST OF FADA, CHAD, AFRICA, THREE DAYS AFTER PAROUSIA

Joy and Ubba stepped out from the pillar of blue light into a spacious circular room, its smooth walls sparkling with a thousand tiny lights. The chamber was different to any they had encountered previously. Only seconds earlier they had been floating in the middle of the stone circle, of the central chamber recently christened Gardens of Babylon. Joy noted they were standing on a circular white platform, the same width across as the stone circle they had stood in only moments earlier. Four pearl white walkways, only a few paces in width, extended out to the surrounding wall another fifty paces from the centre, from where they stood - like the four points on a compass. Aesthetically these were the same as the paths that connected the different gardens in Babylon. A circle of dark blue illumination emanated from above them, forming into a ring of soft light. Ubba pulled Joy forwards and it was only then she realised they were still partially standing in the pillar of light. As they stepped beyond it, the shaft of light dropped to the floor, vanishing beneath them, leaving them to stand alone in the circular room.

I think we’re at the top of the White Coconut. Ubba said, releasing Joy’s hand and stepping forward, ever curious.

Babylon. Joy said, correcting him with their new chosen name.

Then we stand in The Tower of Babylon. Can we not keep this place our secret? Ubba asked.

Ubba, no! As a tribe, we must not have secrets from one another, this is our home. Joy barked, then quickly softened her tone. Keeping secrets can be painful.

A low humming sound filled the room, startling the pair. Joy searched for the source of noise but could not determine its origin. Then, at head height, a ring of liquid formed around them, its mass reflecting the light from the white pathways, giving further illumination to the room. Joy saw the paths extended to chambers edge, joining its circular wall.

I didn’t touch anything. Ubba said at once defensively.

The liquid surface of the ring began to shimmer and formed into an image that looked familiar to her.

That’s a map of the world. Ubba cried out in excitement and Joy could see at once he was right. She had seen a map of the world in the schoolhouse in Fada, but it was not stretched out like this with its Continents surrounding them on all sides.   There was North and South America, Europe, Asia, Russia, Siberia, Africa, Australia with the vast seas and oceans scattered with islands that divided them all. One fully formed a large red dot appeared in the upper central part of the African continent. Joy knew at once it marked their town of Fada in Chad.

Mother, is that us? Lost in the depth of wonder and beauty in their discoveries, Joy had almost forgotten the discussion earlier where her and the second eldest girl, Jodie, had become the de facto Mother and Father of their newly formed tribe – Shujae. Her thoughts turned to the others, knowing they could not leave them alone for too long but before they returned to the gardens she wanted to know more about this place and its true purpose.

Yes, that red spot is Fada. That Ubba, is our place in the world.

Instantly the surface of the map rippled morphing another section into the continent of Africa, then again reforming to show only Chad, with the red circle west of Fada, marking the landing site of the ship.  It reminded her of the one time she managed to use Google Earth at Papa Bendy’s, when his internet was working properly.

I think it heard you. Ubba whispered, re-clasping her hand. Joy decided to test if that were true.

Babylon, show me Fada. She said aloud. The surface rippled again,  the image changing to display the entire town of Fada from above. They could have been eagles, looking down upon the homes and dwellings they knew so well. She could see the small clusters of buildings nestled around the green fronds of the oasis, the outline of the fort, the air strip to the north west, now easily definable by the outline of two planes which sat at one end of the runway. West of the town there was the White Coconut, its tower already catching the first rays of the rising sun.

Wow. This is incredible. We must be at the top. She heard Ubba’s voice in her head but looking at him she could see his mouth remained close.

Ubba can you hear me? She thought the words without saying them out loud. The young boy turned to look at her, his face confused and uncertain. She thought the words again in her head