A Little Princess

By Sherrie DeMorrow

An international organisation called ARANK is up for the challenge of its member's careers,  the rescue of a hapless girl from an evil cult group called GOLOM.  One of the ARANK members is a humanised space alien, working for the ARANK forces.  When he meets the girl, there is a link between them.  What type of link is th

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sherrie DeMorrow
• Release date: Mar 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781916007017

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PREFACE

Although this could not be mentioned before, please be advised that there are sections of this book, as in the previous books, that contain actual life experiences, emotions and memories. In the guise of fiction, it is the only way to inform the public of the results of an extreme lifestyle and treatment toward a helpless child (now fully grown and still suffering daily, the aftershocks of such treatment). It is to be further noted that this individual suffers from a spectrum disorder called Asperger’s Syndrome, which is a form of Autism. The author hopes this will not affect the enjoyment of the following, as well as the previous stories already written.

Despite the disclaimer in the aforementioned paragraph, please note this is still a book of fiction. The reader must suspend all preconceptions of belief in past history, as this book is not meant as an accurate representation of historical events (except in the case described in previous paragraph).

The historical attitudes towards sensitive issues, and people’s prejudices of the time, had to remain intact to provide a sense of realism in the story. No historical figures represented herein had been harmed during the writing of this work.

Some place names given are NOT real, unless otherwise stated or recognised as real (or based on real places). Other characters (for the most part) are fictional and loosely based on people known of by the author.

CHAPTER I

It was the final third of the Post-Modern 20th Century. I sat in my office at 73 Wendillers Lane, gathering dust upon my coffin of a desk. I peered out the window, upon a cloudless day... one in which an aero jet could see the detail of every building on high...

...and, as time went on, the buildings got higher every day.

I took a drag of a cigarette, as my fingers fumbled for my fob watch. The clock in the room had stopped at 3.23 pm, to the precise minute. Someone needed to wind the damn thing up or change its batteries; hell, I was not certain, and did not care a wink. I found it hard to stare out into space, at a clock which read the same facial scripture over and over.

The fob watch stated the fourth hour in the afternoon. It was nearly time to go. I gave another drag and a newfound sigh crept my way. The paperwork in my ‘in’ tray was piling high and the out batch was sent away to be filed by my chief clerk and partner, Nanlee Quimsey Pymbrush.

I was born Hueriel Timodonnis Oconnadron Daye on a far-off planet called Andros IV, in the Amphora district of Agro Chic. My father, Timothy Amber Daye, had been part of the early exploratory space missions, going beyond the Known Planets. He went all the way to Andros, in stasis, and never looked back. When he was revived, the Androsians offered him welcome and, later, a choice pick of wife, as he was unmarried. He was matched with a beautiful Androsian woman called Donna Huerella Oconnadron, or Ella for short. Life as a half-caste was not too difficult for me, but I had noticed my development was more enhanced and advanced than that of a pure human. This helped me with my schooling, and I later found out being just human wasn't everything. The vastness of the universe appealed to me and I recalled reading much about science, astronomy and how the ages had interpreted all this.

It seemed so long ago and would be far above one's comprehension on Earth. I never could make it out myself and accepted the norms I was given. I then decided to return to Earth on a mission to explore more of my human side. I secured a posting a few years back as Detective and Special Agent for Benelophum, which was a cover for our organisation, ARANK (A Really Amorous Naughty Kind). This should prove interesting... cracking cases to find out the many whims of Man. In all the time I'd spent on Earth, I felt that I was contributing to the welfare of the Post Modern society.

I also had an ulterior motive... I, too, was unmarried and remembered Father's missing out on Earth-born women. His work took him away from all that and many an engagement was cancelled due to his endless space outings.

Nanlee's history was far more illustrious and Earth-bound. His name went back nearly two millennia, to a British Roman by the same name. The illustrious connection had gone into Rome itself, by way of a female lead into the military family of Carmikulus. One from that family had served the Empire in the occupation of the far-away settlement of Mentis. During his departure from that Middle Eastern township, he took all that Romanness and eventually returned to Britain, as did a Pymbrush descendant on a latter occasion, from another place. The two families met up, (again through a female line) and the name of Pymbrush regained dominance once again. He felt proud of his heritage, though the two ancestors in question certainly had interesting forms of travel, so he was told, long ago. He did not worry about the unorthodox, possibly mythological methods they used, but it proved to be a good story to tell any offspring in the future.

I perused some paperwork concerning a recent case involving a young girl trapped in a vicious cult group, known as GOLOM.

Although no one truly knew what the initials stood for, my people at HQ called them the Gang of Ominous Lecherous Obnoxious Morons. Where they really moronic, or just ignorant of something better to do?

My eye caught a time signature written on one of the forms in the file. Three-Twenty-Three... the time when this girl was born. I looked at that clock again and wondered if there was something paranormal going on.

The whole family was involved, and, though not by choice, the girl had been carried away into their vacuum. The Cult itself had plagued the City... New York City. It concentrated in the area of Queens, which was possibly named after the wife of Charles II, Catherine of Braganza. We dispatched her latter day namesake operative (called Braggy Cathy) on a mission to confront them, as part of the brave attempts to stop the GOLOM's insanity and feeble-mindedness it inflicted upon its victims.

Her partner in the mission, called Charles Number Two, joined her. She would brag, 'We could save the World from their Uncompromising Measures!' Their mission took them to Monmouth, New Jersey, where a satellite group of GOLOMites had gathered to fight. Many of our forces also fought alongside Charles and Cathy, and it proved to be a formidable battle. Satellite groups had smaller numbers, but it did not make this any easier. One of the younger operatives, an Edward Number Five, had fell, and it was only his first mission! Many would soon follow and no one was safe from the Unyielding Forces, which eventually won the day. Everyone was shattered at Monmouth, and the pills in the handy-packs had proved useful. It was better to be literally dead, than brain dead...

Cathy, despite her endless optimistic bragging, realised the day would not go in our favour. She, too, succumbed to take the pill in the pack, preferring to join forces with God, than a misguided view of judgement.

Charles, meanwhile, luckily escaped and hid in a tree, where he camouflaged himself to be spirited away by an all-female resistance group, working for us. He had plenty of days ahead to make merry with them.

We had our work cut out, as my reverie had ended. More papers swam upon my conscience and I really wondered about this girl. Something inside me felt instinctively drawn to her, for some reason or t’other. Thankfully, I was still good-looking and hoped a catch would soon be made for me. There was a statement I found amongst the papers, given in haste the other day:

She was originally born in Jamaica, Queens, New York. She was then adopted and raised by maternal grandparents who were fifty years her senior, because her natural parents were unable to look after her. Her natural mother, also born in the New York area, had an impairing epileptic condition. Her natural father, originally from Italy, remained in America for a so-called better life after his military posting there. He settled down, met (Lord knows how) and eventually, married the mother. After the girl was born, the natural father was driven away by the maternal grandparents on the basis of religion...

The girl's name was written loudly in red on the file tab... Sucyn Shonnen. Poor Sue, or is it Cyn? I could not make it out and blah, blah, blah..., I'd had enough, I reflected and waited for Big Ben to chime the hour of my leave. I could not wait to join my friends at the Hillier Gentlemen's Club for a spot night out. I gathered up our evidence and neatly put the lot into the satchel. I'll get to it later... maybe at the Club?

Nanlee was filing old cases into cabinets labelled ‘Closed’. (Gosh, there were many of them.) He was a tall, lean and very good looking for his near-half-century-old age, just like me.

A married workaholic, I had chats with him regarding women and what it was like to be married. Dear Nanlee favoured it and found to be a highborn comfort.

He reflected his twenty-odd years of wedlock and decided they were the best he had. The children were grown and gone... spilling out their specimens unto the world. It whet my appetite for a girl of my own; but my real task was to make a contribution in helping us rid ourselves of GOLOM.

Nanlee did not speak much during work. His focus was too intense and into the job. Could be a spectrum disorder he's not telling me about? I sighed and daydreamed. Maybe we should dispatch him to Queens?

'Near time, Tim,' he said.

I looked at my fob watch. Five minutes to go.

I drew a deep breath and thought it would make good on an artist's canvas. I held the satchel with the smouldering paperwork to take home with me. The cigarette also smouldered in the tray I put it in a few moments back. I looked out the window to see a hazy sun, still afloat, but not as bright... as if on a night out...

... and I was planning a night out to meet colleagues and discuss the case, as they worked in our organisation.

The nearby clock tower rang out its liberating chime. One could always rely on Big Ben.

'That's it, I'm off,' I cried. I looked at poor Nanlee, who felt weary and bug-eyed from filing. 'Would you like to join us at Hillier's tonight?'

My partner smiled, his eyes twinkling through fatigue. 'I would. I see you are taking the case notes with you.'

'We need all the help we can get. Our Club is picky on who enters, so we should be at liberty to chat about this in a private setting,' I said.

We put on our coats and departed the office.

CHAPTER II

The hazy sun continued to lead us into a hoped-for good evening for both of us. London bustled intensely, as it always does in the evenings. Red route masters routed their windy way through traffic. Cars milled about, being ground into orderly queues onto outbound carriageways. Pedestrians sprinkled like cobwebs of life all around the infrastructure. And I decided to hop the bus, which pulled at the stop we approached.

'After you,' I said to Nanlee.

He gave me a smile. 'So gracious of you, Tim.'

We