Europa Dreams: EUROPA, #1

By E.C. Downes

The first novel of the EUROPA Trilogy, Europa: Dreams is 634 pages long. The story begins as Sarah Green faces the most difficult decision of her life. "If someone told you your life was going to end then offered you an olive branch to save it, would you take it?"  This is the question Sarah asks the reader after a chance sequence of events, culminates in her opening an email in her spam from a Commodore Adrian Reese, who leads her to an unknown RAF base at an undisclosed location in England.  Here, upon meeting the charming Commodore and learning of the Earth's imminent destruction, Sarah makes the decision to relocate to a newly discovered planet in a Goldilocks Zone. A decision which leads her to the end of an adventure that she, Adrian and many of the other colonists who join her, believe is only just beginning. Although the colonists arrive safely on their new home planet, things do not go according to plan. As the binary suns rise they discover they have landed outside of the drop zone in a desert waste land with soaring temperatures. Their hunt for water is soon a priority which divides the six ships. What is more, Sarah finds herself in a love triangle with Adrian and realises that her dreams are actually premonitions. But it is when the colonist find themselves in a fight to survive an alien predator bent on killing them all, that Sarah and Adrian must learn the secret of Europa's enigmatic sentient beings, if they are to save the planet itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CEBCITY
• Release date: Nov 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215190586

E.C. Downes

E. C. Downes’ was Born in 1968, into a family gifted in the visual arts where her medium is acrylic. It wasn’t until her teen years that Downes discovered her passion for writing. This later took her to various countries around the world, where she taught English as a Second Language in Universities and High schools. Following the death of her father, a man who had always been her inspiration, E.C. took a break from teaching in 2015 to focus on her writing. Thus, EUROPA - a literary science fiction trilogy - was born.

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Copyright © 2016 E. C. Downes All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual event is purely coincidental.  1. Space Travel – Fiction. 2. Europa Planet - Fiction. 3. Alien life - Fiction. 4. Fairies – Fiction. 5. Space Opera - Fiction. 6. Literary – Fiction. Set in Garamond. Cover design and illustrations Copyright © 2016 Sebastian E. Brown all rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including that condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

DEDICATION

For my son Sebastian . E. Brown

ACKNOWLEGEMENTS

Iwould like to give a special thank you to my muse Mark, for all of his inspiration. I would also like to thank all of the people who believed in me

PROLOGUE

When should you give up on a dream? This question had been haunting my thoughts for the past six months and first came to the forefront of my mind, after I received a phone call from my father in the middle of the night. I had not spoken to him for such a long time. Now, months later as I walked along the shore, salt water intermingling with sand as the pushchair ground them both together whilst the rain poured down upon me. Like a silent echo, everything reminded me of him.

A mixture of tears and rain water dripped off of me, as though I was a part of the elements. With heavy feet sinking hopelessly into the wet soulless surf I walked on trying desperately not to think of how much I yearned for him. Yet, despite my best efforts to keep the door closed to my feelings, the pushchair deftly connected the past to the present soundlessly pulling at my heartstrings, as in sheer determination it marked our path upon the lonely beach.

What was more, the dark menacing clouds and tumultuous surf loudly surveyed my progress. Until suddenly. Free from doubt. The two entities came to a conclusion that neither my feet nor the chair were a match for. Wind, rain and waves attacked with one mind, until all signs of my walk along the shore were erased, as if I were just a forgotten memory.

Encouraged by the progress they had made in such a short space of time, the waves now concentrated their efforts upon nearby rocks, climbing to such heights in the efforts to rouse my senses. Even my umbrella worked against me, merging its voice with that of the rain, as the two shouted loudly and relentlessly. Together the elements staged an intervention, a cacophony of sound that mirrored my inner turmoil so guilelessly, I lost sight of who or where I was. So that my heart finally broke open causing the memories of past and present to flow out of me unchecked and my pace slowed as I looked around me; taking in the sight and sounds as if observing them for the very first time.

Indeed, it was no surprise that my subconscious mind had guided my feet to the very cove my father had brought me to as a child. It had been at a time when tears had overrun my peaceful childhood existence. Anxiously now, my cold, numb hands tightened their grip upon the handles of the pushchair where my son slept blissfully, and in response, a memory surfaced fleetingly. Or so it seemed.

It was a strange sensation much like the airily smooth subtle sound of violin strings as they plucked and kissed the sleek bow. This rhythm was soon joined by the clinking of a spoon as it churned a black liquid, causing it to give off that heavy, rich aroma of the dark coffee beans. This was quickly succeeded by a vivid image of my father with his handsome chiselled face unshaved as his long slender fingers held the porcelain cup gently to the place hidden behind his moustache. And as my mind focused; it was as if I was transported back in time to that summer we had spent picnicking on this very beach. Despite the many years that had elapsed, the quiet serene seascape and beautiful hiking trails of the South of France seemed unchanged. Back then, Dad was always anxious and although the idea of leaving London seemed unfathomable, not only did he do just that he actually took me with him.

We’re off to a summer of adventure! He exclaimed, making it sound so wonderful that for the first time in a long time, I was hopeful and the tears stopped. Unfortunately, the holiday didn’t turn out exactly as we had planned; even so, it was the most wonderful memory of my time with Dad. Instead of my oppressively, dull days, had been filled with uninteresting school work and the company of my nanny, in France I spent my time; collecting shells upon the beach, playing catch with the surf, marvelling at the life within the tidal pools and exploring the many crevasses formed by such ginormous boulders. To my little stature and exceedingly large imagination, everything around me was transformed into a magical place which was inhabited by Dragons, Fairies and Mermaids. Unlike me, however, Dad didn’t collect any shells, nor did he take part in my childhood fantasies. Looking back at it all now, I couldn’t help but concede that I was much too young to have understood the gravity of it all. Especially when my mind took me back to what appeared to be a particular angry one-sided telephone conversation.

She was your one responsibility. You were supposed to prevent this at all cost... there is no more time; It’s too late! I could hear his voice clearly in my mind, as if he were standing right beside me.

That memory caused shivers to run down my spine and despite the fact that I had heard many similar conversations in the past; none of them resonated with me more than this one. Somehow I knew at the time, that those words were more significant. Though Dad’s manner never changed, his tone and countenance were different, and that scared me. Looking back on it now, I could see that he was afraid, which confused me even more so.

I was very aware that neither he nor I wanted to return to London and the things that had previously kept him there; he didn’t think it was safe. He had promised me we could stay here, yet after listening to the person on the other end of the phone for what seemed like forever, Dad packed my things and we caught the next flight back to London. Now, so many years later, here we were once again on the very same beach. Only this time, I could help him to keep that promise he had made. This time, he would never leave.

Slowly, I dug a shallow hole with my hands, making sure it was a safe distance away from the edge of the surf, yet still close enough, so that he could see the waves move back and forth from the sea. Then, as the water dripped from my face, watering his final resting place, I emptied the contents of the urn and said my last goodbye to the man who had not only been my protector but the greatest influence in my life.

‘In the dark you will see the stars, Fairest One. They will shine for you in a place you never thought would contain light.’

His words chimed like the sound of a church bell, resonating in the recesses of my mind as the rain lightly messaged my head, my eyes staring numbly at my reflection in a puddle of water at my feet. Just then a raindrop fell from my hair past my eyes. As if in slow motion, it danced carelessly through space and time until finally it disturbed the clear glassy surface of the puddle, causing yet another memory to surface. This was of the first time he had uttered those very words. It was the last day of our holiday and we had decided to visit this very beach. At the time, we had been sheltering in the eaves of a shallow cave populated by fireflies. Ironically, the weather conditions on that day mirrored today’s tussle, with the rain and the sea battling for supremacy. Upon returning to London, whenever things went wrong, Dad would repeat the phrase  to me.

The spell soon broke but trying desperately to hold onto it I closed my eyes tightly now in the attempt to shut out the scene before me as I tried to hear his voice. To hear him say those words one last time. I waited and waited, but he said nothing.

Exploding from the depts. of my very soul my feelings spewed out, overwhelming me, so that in desperation I opened my eyes directing them to the sky for a glimmer of hope. I searched for something, anything. But instead, all I saw was the rain. It had rained on the day he died here so far away from me, in circumstances which appeared quite dubious, and no matter how many questions I asked, they were all left unanswered. Even my mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t go into it.

You ask too many questions, knowing the answers won’t change the fact that he’s dead! Was my mother’s only response, a response that left me with more questions than I had before. And for the first time since my father’s death I became aware of the fuel to my feelings. My breathing quickened and my stomach tightened, which was closely succeeded by a fiery energy that boiled over and engulfed me once again. Like boiling lava the feeling exploded from me causing hot tears to silently run angrily down my face. He had promised that he would always be with me but he left me.

After a while, awareness settled around me, lifting the shroud I had used to cover myself in for such a long time. I looked about me, bewildered, suddenly realising that the rain too had left me. In its place, was a rapidly approaching darkness, with shadowy outlines of once familiar forms and only my thoughts, for company. Sighing softly, reluctantly, I turned back to the path I had recently traversed. Allowing my mind to revert to autopilot, my feet moved methodically upon the sandy shore, whilst the push chair propelled itself steadily but slowly, creating a new, more distinct set of tracks. And I separated myself from the painful reality, allowing my mind to be transported to a place it had frequented so many times before.

In my mind’s eye, I was sitting on the deck of my house, looking at the most beautiful garden, populated by large, elegant, wildflowers that were wine red and velvet to the touch. In fact, the garden felt so wonderfully calming that I consciously stayed in that reality in defiance, as my feet continued to make footprints on the sand in the reality I wanted so desperately to escape.

Flinty fate, however, would not allow me to hide away, it pulled at my mind suddenly as the pushchair jolted then came to an abrupt stop. So that in that place between wakefulness and dream; I bent down to examine the cause of this disturbance, dislodged a small, unremarkable stone from one of the wheels, stared at the object blankly for a moment before letting it fall, and as it did, a glint of metal in the basket caught my eye.  This brought me sharply back to the present and my reason for being on the beach.

My hand, as if of its own accord, reached into the basket under the pushchair and took out the urn. It was lighter now. Feeling the emptiness of it made me feel incredulously overwhelmed once again. Dad was dead and I would never see him again.

As if in empathy for me, in an effort to comfort my poor forlorn state, the waves washed gently over my feet. But I could not, would not accept the comfort they wished to bestow. Looking up to the heavens desperately wanting to shout, to scream, I paused. And everything seemed to stop as my eyes followed the path of a shooting star that seemingly came out of nowhere to flash across the sky. Without even thinking I made a wish.

I wish we were on another planet!

I shouted. The instant the words left my lips, time seemed to speed up again and dark, deep, echo sounded in my mind recanting the popular phrase

‘Be careful what you wish for...’

And gasping audibly, I chided myself for wasting the wish.

Of all the stupid things to wish for... A job that’s what I need!

Just then, an incredibly large wave dashed itself against the rocks bring with it painful memories of father’s funeral. So that the very memories that had been fighting to come to the forefront of my mind all day now flooded into my consciousness. But standing there in the darkness, I denied them the right to stay, instantly banished them to the debts they had sprung from only to have them replaced by memories of my mother which now bubbled to the surface. Now another dark cloud settled upon me. Shaking my head in dismay, I fervently, wished that I hadn’t let my mother persuade me to stay here for these past six months.

Although we had only spent a short time here when I was a child, it was the only place Dad and I had been completely happy together. I missed him desperately. So that the mere idea of going home after the funeral left me feeling like I would lose him all over again. Mother knew this, and so when she asked the question

What are you going back to?  It was easy to forget the past when the present wounds were so intensely fresh and the words seemed to escape my lips without me even realising I had uttered them. I had agreed to stay.

Unfortunately, unlike the relationship I had had with my father, I had never felt close to the lady I called mother. To me, she was the lady I was left with not long after returning from France. It was the first time I had ever met her, but Dad trusted her and said that I needed to stay with her; that it was no longer safe for me to be with him. Then just like that, he was gone. Over the years, as I was growing up, there were infrequent phone calls, but I never saw him again. Now that I had a child of my own, I longed for him. Memories of the time with my mother reminded me that she and I had never been happy together. But mother also had memories of him, memories that she sometimes shared with me over the past six months. Then, if only for a moment, I would feel like Dad was here again.

He loved it here... , Mother would begin. And even though I knew she was only trying to manipulate me by mentioning my father; I didn’t say a word while Mother continued to argue her point; instead my mind willingly opened and allowed every succulent morsel to tantalise my taste buds, holding the memory there for a time before allowing myself to swallow and replace it with another. Then when she saw that I was caught like a fish on a hook

The weather’s so mild, all year round. She masterfully changed the subject, Ben would be safe. You have to watch him like a hawk in London or leave him with strangers; he should be with family. The boy should be free to roam; you know your father would agree with me on this. Plus, it gives me the chance to get to know my grandson. You’re depriving me of that, living there in London. And you’re unemployed. You should stay here with me. She went on to real me in. It will be easier - your father would rest happier if you were here...

The years I had spent with my mother in London had done nothing to bring us closer together. In the beginning I missed my father tremendously and to me, she was everything he was not. Tt the time, being a child of 6 with a fertile imagination filled of stories of evil step mothers did not help matters either. Whenever I was around her, I felt like I was walking in a forest that was covered in a heavy fog that dulled my senses. She made me feel confused and unsettled. But with Dad, it was as if he just blew the fog away. Even now, just thinking of him caused me to feel calm. And although so many years had passed, since my first visit to the house in Provence, it was almost as though I could feel him there with me, holding my hand.

I continued my walk amongst the dark and lonely houses and or a while, thoughts and memories continued to drift in and out of my mind just like the waves washing up onto the shore, until suddenly one stuck. Strangely enough, when I thought about it, I couldn’t remember my parents ever living together. I remembered thinking of this before and asking about it. However, like all the other questions I had asked, that too was shut down. I remembered those days in London so vividly. How my world felt like I was adrift In the ocean surrounded by sharks and I often cried, begged her to take me to him. But Mother was adamant that she would never leave London. Then, once I turned 16, she returned to this house in France, making me promise before she left, I would never come here. Yet it was at the day of father’s funeral that she begged me to stay. Now, six months later, kicking myself profusely, here I was walking in the rain, trying to escape the memories and find a moment’s peace away from the sword fighting which had always been a constant between my mother and me.

I increased my pace as the rain began again and it wasn’t long before the wonderfully, soothing symphony, turned into my mother’s voice. Strong and turbulent it crashed against my ear drums washing the memories onto the shore of my mind. Determined that I would not give in; I lifted my head trying to get free of that voice which clung to the edges of my mind, accompanied by the sea of memories that threatened to drown me once again.

Dreams!! Where have they ever gotten anyone? Mother voice echoed in my mind, "You can’t afford to dream! You have no time to dream.

You have no choice. You have a child to feed! Why you ever left nursing in the first place I will never understand. They’re crying out for nurses."

No longer an echo, my mother’s voice had come to life, and as I felt her words stab at my emotions making them bleed, the scene before me disappeared to be replaced by what appeared to be her veritable form shouting echoes of our conversation from earlier in the day. I could feel my heart rate accelerating as anger rose in me like a tsunami, much like it had during the actual event.

I hate it. Was my equally vehement reply I always have, and if you knew me at all you’d know that. Dad knew me, he encouraged me to listen to my instinct, to follow my dreams he...

Never mind hate, it’s a job! And one that you’d be lucky to have! came Mother’s reply. You are so like your father, so focused on dreams, spending all that time looking at the stars... and look where that got him!

Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare speak ill of him!

I stared through eyes that did not appear to be my own, as my memory walked through our most recent argument. Watched as the same hand which had took the urn off the mantel piece, and placed it into the carriage space underneath Ben’s chair, flung open the door then stopped. There was silence in the room for a while as I turned away from her. Trying desperately not to utter a word for fear of what I might say, I chose instead to focus my thoughts on my son in the push chair. Then just like that my mother’s voice broken the silence, her words fell like a crash of glass upon to the ground.

Leave Ben here, you go back. It would be easier for you if he were here with me. Came her words. "You would have the freedom to pursue your dreams. You could work and study, go back to University. You’d have more time. He could stay here and"

"NO. my words announced emphatically, Ben stays with me. I’m not having this conversation."

Where are you going?

Out! I spat the words as if to emphasise my point as I moved the chair towards the door.

It’s raining outside! My mother shouted the obvious as I pushed the chair out the door, leaving it open to the elements.

She thought that I was just delaying the inevitable, that I needed to get my head out of the clouds. She never understood. It was an argument we had had countless times before yet it still caused me distress.

Strangely enough I had been seriously considering returning to Nursing for weeks when dad died. And as that taught crossed my mind, suddenly another memory surfaced and I smiled. It was of a contract I had signed. On the surface, it appeared to be a regular contract, but then I got to a section in the middle that needed to be initialled and dated, it read:

Clause 2.1 - You may be called upon to serve Her Majesty the Queen and this government without prior notice, should the need arise. If you accept, please sign in the space provided."

It all sounds too cloak and dagger for me. One of my colleagues joked at the time.

Come on, where’s your sense of adventure? I replied. No one saw it that way apart from me and none of my colleagues signed. They all said I was crazy, but at the time all I could think was; if it leads to a job, then why not. Dad phoned in the middle of that very night, but the connection was so bad I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then Mother phoned about an hour later to tell me the dreadful news, and I caught the very next flight to France.

Shaking the memories out of my head and sighing deeply, I looked about the dark familiar street. I still couldn’t bring myself to think of him as being gone. I knew that if he were here he would understand my wanting to hold out; regardless of how senseless it seemed.

It will happen when it’s meant to Dad often said. What was more, even though it didn’t make much sense; I could feel it. I just knew that it would, that I just needed to hang on a little longer.

The memories, that had kept me company as I walked, departed as I stood hesitating in the doorway to what was now my mother’s house. My eyes turned upwards to look up at the stars longingly, and sighing audibly, I moved my hand to the door knob grateful in the knowledge that mother had already retired for the night.

As I walked to the room I had once occupied as a child, I had only one thought in my mind, my son. He was the only thing that kept me going. After tucking Ben into bed, I lay down next to him. Tears rolled silently down my cheeks and onto the pillow. Thoughts became jumbled with all of the memories that had surfaced during my walk upon the beach. There they briefly fight for supremacy in my weary mind, then everything seemed to change, to blend into the other. Until, finally my subconscious took over, and I began to dream.

I WAS LOOKING AT BEN, yet he seemed different somehow. He was standing on a wooden deck with two men, overlooking the most beautiful lake I had ever seen. I knew that he was safe with them as they felt familiar, like I knew them somehow, yet no matter how hard I tried I could not see the faces, they just seemed to fade into the scene the more I tried to focus upon them.

Can you teach me how to fish now Daddy?

What? Oh yes of course son, sitting on his haunches next to Ben, he whispered in Ben’s ear then stood up to give Ben his very own fishing rod. Ben’s face lit up he was so excited.

Sit here mate. Another voice said now lifting Ben onto a wooden bench. Together the two men helped Ben secure his first fly onto the hook and then cast the line.

Oh! The men exclaimed in unison, that was awesome mate/ well done, well done! they clapped as Ben sat between them proudly smiling from ear to ear.

The next thing I knew, I was standing in a cave. At first I could not understand what I was seeing as the light dazzled and sparkled. There were crystals all over the walls, which appeared to extend even to the indistinguishable high ceiling of the cavern. Unlike the interior of other cave systems, there were no stalactites or stalagmites here. Moreover, the entire surface area of the walls that was not populated by the spectacular, delicately shaped flower crystals, was strewn with murals. These appeared to give off a slight glow of their own. In fact, as I focused more closely at them, there appeared to be a slight pulsing sensation on the surface; it was as if the walls themselves were pulsating. A sudden splash in the direction of the water distracted me, and the thought flew into the wind as I turned to look and was surprised to see movement. I became aware of waves rolling in and breaking gently on the shore near my feet in a natural rhythm. A gentle wind caressed my cheek, moving my hair into my face. And instinctively, my hand moved the stray locks away as I peered at the sheer expanse of water which seemed to go on forever. I couldn’t even see across to the other side the place was so immeasurable, it looked like-

An underground Sea!

I exclaimed in astonishment and as the sound that followed vibrated through me, moving throughout the cave system with a force that was airily deafening, the flower crystals glowed calmly on the ceiling like stars in the night sky. As if rooted to the spot, I was staring in awe at the majestic beauty that surrounded me when other sweet childlike tones echoed quietly, creating such an enchanting atmosphere. I was soon brought back to myself though, at the sight of two winged creatures flying out over the water, towards an island that was barely visible to my eyes, it being so far away on the distant horizon.

No wait! Come back! I shouted.

THE SOUND OF MY OWN voice startled me as I became aware of the forceful whooshing that pulsed through my ears and vibrated throughout my body. Desperately looking around me as the magical scene melted away and I realised the cave and the crystals were gone. I found myself in my room with Ben sleeping beside me.

‘That dream again’ I thought. If memory served right, it had been a few years, but I had been having that recurring dream since childhood. It was always the same; only this time, the dream had appeared to be much more lucid than before. Sighing with regret, I turned my head, staring out the window at the beautiful sunrise wishing that I could see that cave, that it was real.

The sun was barely up, yet the events of the previous night and the memory of my present situation came flooding back to me as if taunting me. No job, a young son, and after years of independence, here I was back living in my mother’s house. Turning back to the window, I took one last look at the sky as it slipped out of its flamboyant dress replacing it with one of a more normal hue. Then, sighing heavily once again, I slipped on my dressing gown and bedroom slippers, then walked down the stairs, my laptop in hand.

OLIVE BRANCH

Icouldn't help thinking ,

'Today will be different, it has to be.'

I had been checking my email daily and uploaded my information to several online jobsites in the hope of finding something, anything. Fate, it seemed, had decided that today was the day, for as I scanned my email, deleting the spam, one message stood out. The subject header read;

Urgent! On Her Majesty’s Service

Chuckling to myself I thought ‘Why do people actually send junk mail? It’s ridiculous really, they must realise that no one takes them seriously...’ Then, for no reason at all I felt a thumping as 100 Arabian horses ran through my veins and my brain went into overdrive as panic set in. The email was from a Cdre. A. Reese. The name sounded familiar as though I should remember the person, but I could not place it.

‘Am I in trouble here? Who the hell is A. Reese? And what does Cdre. mean?’ I asked myself but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t remember ever meeting a Reese, and in the government.

‘They don’t send you email.’  Then, as my brain continued to walk around the question, I looked up the abbreviation Cdre. Online, only to discover that it meant ‘Commodore’, which made me even more worried. My finger checked the little square box on the left of the message, hovered over the delete button, then stopped, as I hesitated jumping from one thought to the next.

‘What am I thinking? They’re the British Armed Forces! OK  what should I do, open it or delete it? Who the hell am I kidding? The curiosity factor definitely wins out over fear’. I double clicked, on the email, it read;

GOOD DAY MISS GREEN

On behalf of Her Majesty the Queen, and the British Government, you have been chosen to partake in a mission of extreme importance. Please reply to this email ASAP and do include a current phone number on which you will be contacted by Commodore Reese. Failure to comply will be breaking Clause 2 paragraph 1, of the contract that you signed in 20** confirming that you would agree to be called into National Service, should the British Government require you to do so. Breaking this contract will result in serious repercussions on your part.

Regards

Commodore A. Reese

THE EMAIL EVEN INCLUDED the Government insignia.

"DAMN IT!!"

I was naturally shocked, not to mention angry with myself for not deleting the email in the first place and launched into another tirade with myself.

‘It’s a scam! It has to be! Then again, how do they know about that contract? I should just delete the thing right now! As if that would help; then I‘d get into trouble anyway as it would look as though I hadn’t bothered to answer’.

WHEN WILL IT END? I shouted aloud. It took me over an hour to compose what I thought was a suitable reply which was one sentence long.

GOOD DAY COMMODORE Reese,

In reply to your recent email, my phone number is 00334 ****09.

Regards

Sarah Green

MY PHONE WAS VIBRATING within minutes.

Sarah Green? The voice on the other end sounded very official and commanded respect

...Yes? I replied nervously, barely recognising the sound of my own voice.

This is Commodore Reese. We’ve been trying to contact you for the past 6 months.

Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t aware...

Can I ask you to please bear with me Ma’am? I need to ask you a few personal questions before we go any further.

Of course I replied.

Very good. Are you currently in a relationship?

"Nooooo" was my sceptical rely, I beginning to believe that I was the victim of a rather cruel practical joke.

And are you currently employed?

No.

Very good, we may proceed he said.

I, failing to see what was Very Good about the fact that I was not only unemployed but also single, was getting rather annoyed at this point and thinking seriously about hanging up on him, so I said nothing in reply.

Miss Green he continued The British government together with the European Union are working on a project which requires your services. In 20**, as part of your employment contract, you signed clause 2 paragraph 1. This confirmed that you would agree to be called into National Service, should the British Government require you to do so. In short, on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen, we are now calling you in. I noticed from your phone number that you are not currently in the UK, but in the South of France. Can you make the necessary arrangements to be at your local airport within the next 2 days?

Anger turned to shock now as the hand that held my mobile shook and I gripped the device fiercely so as not to drop it.

I... I guess so, but I have a 4 year old son, he

That’s fine, you can bring him along. Arrangements will be made through the British Embassy in ******** for you and your son to return to the UK, they will be contacting you shortly. And I will personally meet you at Heathrow Airport to escort you to the Base. Have a safe flight.

Oh, wait... Can I ask, what exactly will I be doing?

I’m sorry Miss Green, this being a matter of national security, I’m not at liberty to divulge any information at this point in time. You will be briefed further on the Base. However, I must also ask that you not discuss this with anyone, prior to that point in time... I’m sorry that I am not able to enlighten you further. As you understand, this is classified information.

OK... said I rather sceptically.

I’ll see you in two days Miss Green. Have a pleasant flight.

Thank you I replied just as he rang off.

Before long, my mobile started ringing again. This time it was the British Embassy informing me that a flight had been booked for my son and me, for that Friday morning at 9am. That I would be met at the Airport at 6.30 am by a member of the consulate. And that half an hour before check In, I would receive the necessary documents for travel, including tickets.

'Good grief! This can’t be really happening, can it?’ I asked myself as my thoughts betrayed the combined anxiety and shock I felt. "They never mentioned or asked me for any money. Can this really be real? It must be. It’s true, I did sign that paper. Whatever the Home Office was offering must be something big if they were willing to include Ben without a moment’s hesitation. Not to mention sorting out our travel arrangements at such short notice.'

No sooner had I hung up the phone when Ben came walking down the stairs, his well-loved Teddy held tightly by one paw, Ben climbed into my lap. It was now 6 am.

Who were you talking to on the phone Mum? In response, I just pulled him to me and gave him a great big cuddle.

We’re going back to England on Friday, I disclosed.

Can Teddy come too? He asked a little anxiously.

Of course he can, we’ll be taking all of your things Ben, all of your boys and girls. Ben had an assortment of stuffed animals we affectionately called his boys and girls.

I love you Mum, he acknowledged whilst affording me the brightest smile and tightest cuddle he had given me in months.

Ben had been severely withdrawn since our move. He had asked me several times to go home and, by home, he meant back to our house in London, the only home he had ever known. Watching his unhappy face every day made me feel like I was failing him. At least, today I was able to make him smile. It was a start, not exactly what I had been looking for, but somehow, I felt that this was right.

Friday morning came before I knew it. After the auspicious phone call on Wednesday morning, the ambassador had given me several follow up calls with a list of things we needed to do before travel. Everything was pre-arranged and we were driven to and forth in a private car which was sent to collect us.

"Please let this work out for us. Please don’t let anything go wrong

and don’t let us regret this ever. For once in our lives, I really need things to work out right for us. Please!" I silently pleaded with the universe

What Mum?

Oh, nothing I said, trying to sound nonchalant realising that Ben had heard me speaking under my breath non to silently after all. In fact, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts anxiously blowing in and out of my head as I kept going over the list of things that we were supposed to do before we left. Checking them off on my fingers yet again, I hoped desperately that I had not forgotten anything as the taxi driver pulled into the airport.

Unlike me, Ben was so excited he had made me promise that I wouldn’t change my mind and, in turn, promised me I’ll be the best boy ever if we could only go on the plane. He was staring out the window; his huge brown eyes so like my own, with long eyelashes that fanned out around them and wavy coffee coloured hair blowing about his face, I couldn’t help but smile. I had tried to give him a haircut the day before, but he had been adamant that he wanted to leave it as it was. It came right down his face, at the same level with his eyes. I had had so much to do and only a few days to do it in, that I didn’t have the energy to fight with my very determined boy, so the hair stayed. His eyes shone so brightly they seemed to glow as he looked at the airplane’s taking off and there, on his left cheek, was the dimple that I hadn’t seen in such a long time as a smile appeared upon his face.

People looking at Ben always considered him to be happy. However, I knew the other Ben. The Ben who followed me around and wouldn’t let me out of his sight. The Ben who, when I left him with my aunt to go to work for the first time after he was born, sat on the top of the stairs hugging his teddy until I got back. That afternoon, he informed me that he wished he could be my sweater, so that he would be able to hug me all day and never leave me. The Ben who made a ‘Wendy house’ out of an old washing machine box and with a marker, drew a T.V. He declared that it was his T.V.

This is our house Mum. Its magic! If you go inside and look out the window, you can see London! I made it just for you. The Ben who took his teddy everywhere he went. A recent development, since we moved in with my mother. Oh don’t get me wrong, he laughed a lot (almost all the time), and did his fair share of misbehaving like every other child. But Ben was also a deeply sensitive child and even worked out, all by himself, that it doesn’t matter what people think. He explained it to me one night as he was getting ready for bed.

I laugh a lot so people will believe that I’m not very serious. He said.

Looking at him now, his little hand in mine and the other holding Teddy, I made myself a promise that we were going to get through the next few hours and things were going to work out well, for his sake. They had too. He was counting on me to make things work, and I couldn’t let him down. Not again, not this time. He had been patient and waited all this time for me to sort our lives out. He had even made plans as to what colour our new house was going to be, how many dogs we were going to have, names and all. It had been the topic of his conversation for the past 6 months. I had been lost in that deep, dark place for far too long, whilst my son had been so patient. Now we were going to get that house, and if wasn’t  green we were going to buy some green paint and damn well paint it green, just for him.

The airport seemed alive as we attempted to navigate the sea of people who appeared to move about like a solid intimidating wave.

How in the world are we supposed to find the Embassy rep in this crowded mess? I asked with an air of exasperation, as my words floated aimlessly above the endless and disorganised queues. It was hot and sticky, so much so, that many people had made paper fans with which they tried to relieve the heat. People stood with their suitcases piled around them, some with children hanging on to the skirt tails of their parents, while others stood alone, or held onto the arms of their loved ones, oblivious to all around them. Then there was the noise; babies crying, children laughing and people chatting to each other whilst they waited. Altogether, it sounded like the sound of a thousand seagulls fighting each other for scraps upon the shore.

My mother (in her wisdom) had decided that we needed to get to the Check In, and quickly.

You don’t want to be standing around any longer than you have to. Are you sure you want to take him with you? It will be a while till you get things sorted out; he can stay with me till you get settled then...

Her voice droned on while I busied myself trying to ignore the last comment. Changing the topic, I was busy explaining that there was no point in trying to do anything until we had the tickets, when, all of a sudden, a well-dressed gent caught my eye. He walking at the edge of the crowd, was tall, a little portly and although it was quite hot, the gent wore what looked like an expensive tailored suit and tie. I watched with growing interest as, sweating profusely, the gentleman removed a white handkerchief from a pocket next to his left lapel. With this, he proceeded to dab at his brow and the back of his neck languidly, as he scanned the crowd. Convinced that I was right, I left my luggage with my mother, and holding onto Ben, made a bee-line for the gentleman. Sure enough, just as we approached, the gent turned around and I breathed a sigh of relief at what I saw. The man held a sign in his hand with my name on it.

Excuse me; I believe you’re looking for me. I said showing him our passports.

Ah, Good Morning Ms. Green, please follow me. We tried to phone you this morning but unfortunately we couldn’t get a signal. We were hoping that you would be able to get here sooner but as your check in time was for 06:30, we decided to go ahead the words spilt out of his mouth as if relieved. Then, turning quickly and determinedly, the gentleman started walking towards the Check In desk, taking very long strides. I barely had time to signal to my mother, who had the trolley with our luggage piled on top, to follow closely behind us.

To my surprise the Embassy rep. proceeded past Check In, and walked on until he reached the departure gates. He spoke to the guard, who looked at us as if he was about to say something, then stopped abruptly as the gentleman flashed a document at him. The Embassy Rep then asked for our passports. He put these together with some papers he had removed from his briefcase, then he proceeded to hand these to the guard.

Turning to me now, he explain

There is a flight to London Heathrow leaving in half an hour and as there are two seats free, we went ahead and moved your booking forward, reserving those seats for you and your son. The Guard looked at our passports and the papers, briefly before handing them to me.

You’re free to board Madam the guard said quietly as a porter relieved my mother of our luggage.

Quickly turning, I said my farewells to my mother, realizing now that we had very little time to board before we would be airborne; I promised to call her as soon as we were settled, little did I know that this was a promise I was not going to be able to keep.

A member of the cabin crew soon appeared, and before I knew it, we were being hustled through the Airplane’s

aisles, towards our First Class seats. It wasn’t until we were well in the air, with Ben settled in the window seat, colouring besides me, that it hit me.

This is really happening; it’s really real.

What Mum? I hadn’t even realized that I had said the words out loud. Our little green house Ben, we’re going to start looking for it as soon as we get to the hotel.

And if we find the right house, and it’s not green, then we’ll just have to buy some green paint, won’t we Mum?

Absolutely! I exclaimed smiling broadly and Ben laughed.

The two hour flight seemed to take forever. Even with the Cabin Crew keeping Ben busy with an assortment of treats, story books and other types of entertainment; I found it hard to quiet the butterflies in my stomach that floated about with utter abandon. I had never flown ‘First Class’ before and by the time we landed, everything was a bit of a blur. We were off the plane before everyone else and it was easy to spot the officer in the RAF uniform. Standing next to him was a handsome gentleman who looked to be much higher in rank. Only his dress uniform was very different, so much so, that I could not guess which section of the British Armed Forced he belonged to. I had been observing them for less than a minute when the handsome gentleman, spoke briefly to the RAF officer who saluted with a

Yes Sir Commodore, before walking off in the opposite direction. With my suspicions confirmed, I took a deep breath, summoned my courage, and walked up to the gentleman with an outstretched hand.

Commodore Reese, I’m Sarah Green.

Pleased to meet you Miss Green, he spoke as he grasped my hand, giving it a brief but strong shake. And as he did, the strangest feeling flooded over me and time seemed to stand still. It felt as though I knew The Commodore, and had done all my life. It was as though there was something important that I had forgotten. Undeterred by this, as the feeling didn’t appear to be ominous, I decided to adopt a wait and see attitude.

Mum, who’s that? I was brought back from that place beyond consciousness by the sound of Ben’s voice.

Oh, I’m sorry, this is my son Ben, and of course his teddy bear, Teddy. I said realizing that I must have been staring as the heat moved up my chest, past my neck to cover my face in a carpet of red even as I tried to keep the straightest face I could muster. In response, The Commodore looked down at Ben and I suddenly thought, 'maybe I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t know him after all and this is all so official.'

Pleased to meet you Ben, Teddy. My name is Commodore Reese. Sitting on his heels and smiling;

Commodore Reese first shook Ben’s hand, then Teddy’s in turn. I was so relieved by his reaction.

Unfortunately though, Ben, who up until that moment had been very brave, turned tail and tried to hide behind my legs. Commodore Reese to his credit, pretended not to notice, and stood up. Gently taking my elbow, he proceeded to walk forward as I followed his lead.

Ms. Green your luggage has already been loaded into my transport. Then in response to my quizzical look, your luggage arrived ahead of you as they were put onto the preceding plane in order to save time. If you would please, walk this way? He led us through and past immigration with a flash of his open wallet. Before I knew it, we were outside, and driving along the road, leaving Heathrow Airport behind us like a distant memory.

There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions bubbled in my mind. Most particularly, the question ‘where have we met before?’ was on the top of my list as I was now positive that we had. So distracted was I with my own thoughts, I did not hear a word The Commodore said, when after talking to the Officer driving our Jeep, he turned and addressed me.

Miss Green, is everything alright?

Oh, yes we’re fine. I’m terribly sorry, I’m afraid I was a bit distracted I admitted sheepishly, with the most ridiculous look of embarrassment on my face as the river of red travelled quickly up my neck to flood my cheeks again.

What’s the matter Mum, you’re all red? Ben, who was sat in the back seat next to me, seemed to have lost his shyness altogether.

Nothing I replied faultily, at the same time as rolling down the window. Being the gentleman he was, The Commodore addressed his next sentence to Ben.

I was just apologizing to your mum, Ben; we’re in a bit of a rush. I know your flight was not a long one, but I do hope you’re not too hungry. It will be a very long drive so if you think you might need...

Oh I’m not hungry, Mr. Reese, we had breakfast on the plane, and I ate it all up, even when the plane was jumping up and down.

That’s good The Commodore commented with a smile. Then turning back to me

We’ll push on then? I nodded my head, in response, not trusting myself to speak. We’ll be at the base in approximately eight hours he continued. Once we’ve arrived, there are quite a few documents you will need to sign before we can proceed to disclose the nature of your assignment. Unfortunately, as this is quite a high security mission, I am not at liberty to brief you further at this time. I hope you understand. I nodded my head again. It is also my duty to inform you; should you feel the need to retract either yourself or your son from this mission, you may do so at any time up to the moment that you sign the contract. This will be presented to you at 08:00 hours tomorrow.

Thank you I replied audibly this time, with a hint of nervousness in my voice.

I’m terribly sorry, I do realise this must all be quite daunting. Take time to relax and think things through. You are safe with us Miss Green, both you and your son. He assured me, with a brief smile, before turning forward in his seat as the private engaged his attention once more.

Ben, who had been awake since the night before we left, was already asleep. And I was beginning to feel quite exhausted myself as the wonderful spring air caressed my face. Turning my head to the scene outside the window; I stared blankly at a field where cows were grazing happily whilst trying to organize my thought as fresh wave of doubt spread over me. Then as I remembered The Commodore’s assurances, these quickly dissipated. He had promised we were safe and for some reason, looking at the officers in uniform sitting in the front seat of the vehicle, I knew that we were. We briefly stopped for petrol and at a rest stop, during the drive, but apart from the few minutes when Ben and I used the bathroom, The Commodore never let us out of his sight.

Someone seemed to be calling my name and spoke so gently, as if the words were blown by the wind.

"Miss Green, we’re here." For a second, I didn’t know where here was or, more importantly, who had spoken. My eyes were open, but I seemed to be looking into the most beautiful sea of green olives smiling down at me. Then reality hit me in an instant, as somebody touched my shoulder softly and said my name again.

"Sarah..." I blinked trying to adjust to my shift in reality ‘No. Not a dream.’ I thought before audibly replying to Commodore Reece.

I must have dozed off I admitted. Shading my eyes with my one free hand to hide my confusion, I tried to deflect his attention away from the blush that was rapidly moving up my neck and face, whilst at the same time, avoiding those olive green eyes. Consciously, I choose instead to focus my attention on my beautiful boy, who was still fast asleep.

"Let me take him for you." the words were issued so softly as he, reaching over, expertly undid the seatbelt and gently picked Ben up before I could even protest.

The private had already removed our luggage and was waiting for me to leave the vehicle, before starting on our way. It was late evening, and the sun was taking its leave of the sky who had changed her dress again to one of bright red and orange hues on this occasion. Ben never stirred once as The Commodore carried him into our quarters, and placed him gently onto a single bed.

I’ll give you a few minutes to settle, before I send someone along to show you to the mess hall. You can have a quick look around the base after dinner, it’ll soon be lights out. Or, if you prefer, I can have someone send over some dinner to you here?

I think that might be best, just in case Ben wakes up while I’m away I replied whilst nodding my ascent to the latter.

Yes of course... He reflected a bit absently as if talking to himself before continuing. We have an early start here, 06:00 hours. I’ll arrange for one of the ladies in your block to call round to show you to mess hall and such in the morning. Her name is Lieutenant Susan Williams. After breakfast, she’ll take you to the Nursery, for Ben, and then escort you to my office, where we will have a talk with The Marshal of the RAF (MRAF). If you need anything just dial 221 on the internal line

Thank you, Commodore Reece

No problem he smiled. Hesitated as if he was about to say something. Then just like that, he was gone.

So, there I was in a minimally decorated room, with Ben asleep on one of the two single beds. The walls were painted white, a small fridge occupied a space on the wall opposite to the door, through which there was an adjoining shower room with toilet attached. Those were all the amenities. Our suitcases had been placed next to the door against a tall, dark wardrobe which stood between two windows on one of the walls. The beds were placed each under a window and were adorned with white sheets. Too tired to deny that fact anymore, I decided to have a quick shower before getting ready for bed.

To my surprise, when I entered the room again, there was a tray atop the fridge with two portions of Lasagne and some chips. In addition to this, there were two bottles of still water and a note which read

Hope you enjoy the meal, with compliments, Commodore Adrian Reese.

A smile creased my lips before I was even aware it was there. Feeling far too exhausted to eat I placed both plates in the fridge before busying myself with re-arranging the room. Since I had no idea how long we would be here, and everything felt so strange and different, I had decided that I might as well try to make it more comfortable. Moving the empty wardrobe to the other wall, I pushed the beds together, then sat upon the crisp white sheets next to Ben. He had been in such a deep sleep he wasn’t even aware of when I swapped his clothes for pyjamas. To be honest, I don’t even remember lying down. The sheets smelt like they had been dried in the open air, sweet with the perfume of freshly cut grass which filled me with the most comfortable feeling.

It must have been close to about 11pm when the hunger pains pushed through my dreams, waking me.

Before long, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I was able to make sense of the shapes and shadows with the help of a dim light which streamed through the closed drapes. For a while I just sat there in the bed, staring at the wall. However, the coldness of the room soon registered with me, enough to make me venture out of bed and stumble towards a thermostat that was mounted upon the wall. Looking around I noticed that Ben had managed to do a 360 degree turn in bed and was now facing totally the opposite direction.

‘That boy would sleep through an earthquake’ I thought as the need for food prompted me to go to the fridge where I had left the Lasagne earlier. It was stone cold.

Damn and Blast! I really regretted putting the food into the fridge and not eating it earlier, especially as Lasagne was my favourite dish. Now it was too late to get anything and there was no way to even heat it up! What a waste, and cold chips definitely did not tempt my appetite. Luckily I remembered some biscuits my mother had bought the day before the flight.

It will give Ben something to munch on in case he gets travel sick she added whilst