River Rats 2: River Rats, #2

By Christopher E. Howard

The second in this series, follow our intrepid adventures as they are dumped on yet another alien world, the cubic lifeform having stowed away on one of their boats, upsetting the delicate computational weight settings of the return journey to earth.

 

Marooned yet again they find themselves battling for survival.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CC Readers
• Release date: Nov 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223273769

Christopher E. Howard

Born in Harrow; living and educated everywhere else. Since leaving school, Chris has worked in the Opal mines of Northern Australia, as a working miner/first aider then he completed a nursing course, before progressing to a full surgical residency at Darwin Hospital. Whilst working as a surgeon, Chris did a Journalistic Course, which spurred his creative writing. On submitting his first piece and being lucky enough to receive not just publication in Australia, but also becoming an award winning story - Lost In REM - which earned great notoriety. This led to the point where he was invited to join Jeff Besos and about twenty other authors in an early discussion in Belgium, to explore the Amazon Books platform being created. He joined the National Geographic in the mid-1980s as a combined Medic and Copy Editor with the first job working on a field trip in Papua New Guinea - followed by other assignments with ecological ethos backgrounds. Along the way he also ended up covering war correspondence as he often seemed to be in the right spot to write newsreel events, during which time he visited the four corners of the earth. One year, during a sabbatical with a friend he drove a 400 herd of Arab horses across the Trans Val from Libya through to Zaire, taking about 4 months for the trip. He has achieved an MD, an MA in the English Language and another complete MA in Woodworking – three of his main vocations. Christopher E Howard, MA. MD. MA. .a.

Book preview

The River Rats

Book 2

Chapter 1

O h, God: I hope this isn’t the end!

Moody Blue George – hemi-prosthetic through alien technology, could only shake his head, glancing out of the big windows at flashes of a tantalisingly pinkish sky, fighting back tears, nihilism ruling the moment.

We’ve got to abandon ship, Jess yelled behind in panic!

And go where, Barry shouted? There’s nothing out there – nothing but sand and more sand – sand that will swallow you whole before we get ten paces.

Around them the big craft bucked and swayed, slaloming towards a giant vortex.

I’m not sitting here to be crushed within a stinking whirlpool, Jess bleated in rage!"

George glanced across to his friend Hamish, the mayhem continuing within the confines of the vessel’s galley and rest areas behind them, the six-foot ex-guardsman frozen at the wheel of his helm, too upset to say any more; stolid – angry beyond words. Angry at having to leave the beautiful rugged planet ‘Moneau Der-plu’ having rapidly carved out a life for himself with George and Delvin; livid at the daft alien entity that had stowed away on Paul’s boat upsetting the delicate balance the Aenians had exacted to try and get them home – and just plain numb at not having arrived back on Earth as planned. He could only sit and stare ahead at whatever fate had in store for them, setting his teeth as the precipice loomed; preparing himself for the ride of his life – or death.

Wedged behind them in the boat’s ample seating area of the helm, keeping remarkably calm himself was Delvin, another survivor of their first wayward adventure.

In the galley the uproar proceeded as the volunteer Aenians tried to keep their equipment safe, the boat they had taken refuge in now swimming towards oblivion.

There was the one odd glimmer of hope as both George and Hamish kept to their seats, a glimpse of startling pink sky amid the churning whorls of dusty mustard sand, meaning they might just be riding an avalanche of the dunes into an oasis of some kind below. It was a fanciful hope but as he and Hamish sat rigid at the helm, there seemed little they could do in the given space of time; the Snow Goose being inexorably sucked down into a swirling morass of quicksand.

The howling sand storm they’d arrived in pushed and pulled at the craft, leaving the glass windows of the cruiser – and no doubt the hull, scratched and almost opaque in places; swathes of silicon and slithers of vulcanised glass embedded within the swirling whorls acting like a massive grinder as they battered the assembled boats – the only respite from the horrendous wind being the fact that their starboard side was protected somewhat by their dead comrade’s beautiful gin palace, which in turn was lashed to Moody Blue George’s big forty foot Broad’s cruiser, all three vessels on the move in the sand as a serious undercurrent propelled them forward. Half-buried, the forces of pressure made the craft creak and groan like never before.

Christ don’t open a window Barry, Delvin yelled!

We’ll suffocate soon if we don’t get some air, the portly engineer gasped, fighting with the catches.

Shit, Hamish raged! "We’re going down!

Beside him at the helm, George braced himself, his feet planted firmly on the bulkhead.

Delvin dived to wedge himself behind George’s chair, cringing as the tonnage of boats slewed their way into the unknown, the angle of descent sharpening all the time.

Get out of there, Sonny shouted, fearing the windshield would cave in, but it was too late, before anyone could react, the surging undercurrent had propelled the boats over the cliff, the combined weight and momentum doing the rest. The girls screamed as an awful creaking and wrenching of fibreglass and wood filled the boat. It quickly reached its apogee, falling as the vortex pulled them in, the second of weightlessness as frightening as the downward motion.

Lashed together, the three boats bottomed out, hitting a geological shelf, the splintering of hulls reverberating through the occupant’s teeth, jarring everyone inside.

Again the boats lurched – equipment thrown all over the place. They were flung sideways – alien and human bodies tumbling into one another – then nothing again as they felt suspended in air for a micro-second, another bout of sickening, gut-churning horror squashed a moment later as the assembled boats crashed nose-first into a subterranean lake, a welter of sand and debris following them.

George and Hamish were catapulted from their seats into the big spacious bulkhead of a dashboard, both a tangle of artificial and human limbs. They caught a glimpse of deepening turbulent water filled with bubbles, the three bound cruisers having dived in like a giant wedge, fully submerging before the air trapped within pulled them back out like corks, all three shooting back to the surface in an torrent of broken spars, buoys, sparkling water and a million droplets, crashing back onto their keels amid a calamity of spray and noise.

Holy Christ, spat Delvin, whose own body weight had wrapped him around the pedestal of George’s chair, his ribcage taking most of the punishment!

Thrown against the windscreen – the two pieces of laminated glass hadn’t broken mercifully – as the boat smashed into the water, George praising the rigidity and soundness of Hamish’s wonderful Snow Goose, the boat saving their lives as the superstructure held against the enormous pressures. He untangled himself from Hamish, finding his feet, sliding off the wooden bulkhead, helping his Scottish friend up before bending to pick Delvin from the floor, turning then to take in the vision beyond the helm.

They had fallen into some kind of anchialine cave, a crater perhaps, the huge grotto opening up to an open sea beyond; the enormous arched opening revealing the dazzling pink sky above. Directly before them, lying at the bottom of the clear-water inlet, Barry and Sonny’s cruisers rested; their spines broken; the hulls smashed beyond repair, bulbous bubbles rising still from the wrecks as they settled. Battered but not holed it seemed, Kris’ motor torpedo vessel bobbed; resting quite calmly it appeared, although quite how its keel wasn’t dented or holed would be a small miracle.

Amid an absolute armada of broken equipment; lifebelts, ropes, buoys and saturated clothing – to name but a few, floated the Aenian exploratory vessel too, the silvered husk-like lifeboat listing slightly, the extra-strong metal of its outer hull protecting it from the collision with the cavern’s jutting shelf.

How are you, Hamish, George asked after an inventory of their new world?

Hamish, having to bend slightly in his cockpit, tried to massage a swollen wrist. I’ll be lucky if it isn’t fractured, he moaned.

You alright, Delvin?

The young man who’d proved himself time and again on their last escapade nodded, although George could tell by the way he was holding himself, his ribs may be bruised – no laughing matter.

You alright, Hamish asked of George?

George nodded, checking himself up and down, especially the alien joints of his arm and leg, the melding of skin cultures proving to be a real sticking point back on ‘Moneau Der-plu’ when it came to replace his old robotic limbs bestowed to him from prosthetic teams on Earth, the new ones containing lifetime power-packs, a super case-hardened skin that moved and flexed like an ordinary epidermis but felt like rubberised steel, embedded cosmetically hued chameleon-like chromosomes mutating to match his real integument – plus artificial protopathic nerve fibres – a godsend, allowing him to feel both hand and foot with at least some residue of sensation.

I seem to be, he avowed, flexing his new arm and hand.

How’s everyone back there?

Sonny, a bulky powerfully built American who spent the last eight years plying the rivers of the Norfolk Broads only to be picked up and hurled parsecs across the universe to some distant planet, now stranded again, could only nod, holding onto his wife who was still retching, having suffered somebody’s elbow or knee in the stomach as everyone was thrown against the helm bulkheads.

Barry, married six years to his beloved Jess was sitting nursing a bump on the head. His wife seemed ok.

George moved to step into the galley area, concerned he’d heard nothing from the Aenians. He found them clustered around their equipment checking for damage, the only female dabbing at a sore graze on her arm.

George caught the torn fabric of their tough padded over-suits, not surprised one of them had received injury.

You’re ok, he asked of the pretty little Aenian astro-botanist?

Ok, she chirped, relief that the ride had ended with all of them still alive. She indicated pointedly to the stricken three-tiered cruiser still tied starboard side. Wonder an Doof is-ing?

George caught on immediately, bending to lean on the back of the seating unit the three Aenian scientists were spread out in, each checking several boxes of equipment whilst tending to various bruises. He peered out of a window, finding there was movement aboard Paul’s boat, the craft rocking slightly, the Cubic entity that had messed up all their best laid plans suddenly appearing at the upper cockpit window, as bewildered and stunned as anything would be at having survived such a journey. The orange creature had the temerity to attempt a wave, although the motion dwindled miserably as it vaguely dawned on it that this latest calamity was maybe its fault as well.

George straightened, blowing out a sigh.

Glancing around again at the assembled crew he was surprised no-one had got seriously hurt.

Where are we, blurted the ever-excitable Jess?

Sonny squinted as he peered out of the galley windows, taking in the immense cavern walls. Some kind of sea cave it looks like, he spoke, bending to take in the size of the place.

Could this be home then?

Sonny looked to Barry.

Even if it is we won’t be going far in either of our boats. I wouldn’t mind betting both keels are busted through!

Brushing himself down, Barry stood to walk through to the French doors situated at the rear of the boat, leading to a big semi-circular aft deck beyond, throwing them open to reveal their surroundings in full panoramic splendour.

Jeeze! they heard him gasp a moment later.

Hamish barged through from the helm, going aft also, tearing up bilge plates as he went. The water sloshing about in the big wide gully beneath the decking attracted everyone’s attention, the thought that the craft might feasibly sink, alerting them to another big problem.

George followed Hamish, Delvin joining Barry at the stern, marvelling at the cave’s structure.

Are we taking in water, George enquired of his friend?

Aye, growled the Scotsman. Hardly surprising; we must have hit that secondary ledge with some force, luckily Paul’s deeper keel took the brunt of it, I guess, but I’ve still suffered a crack or two – which will have to be sorted if I’m to stay afloat.

George hung in the cabin, gazing over several tool boxes holding various emergency procedures for dealing with a sudden breach to the fibreglass hull; modern advances in watertight glues having produced various sizes of gel-coated matting that – once peeled – would adhere to rough fibreglass like Velcro, sealing cracks and even bigger punctures. "The old ‘patch and repair,’ remedy, eh?  Then it dawned on him that his own vessel may well have suffered the same fate. Shit, he uttered. I’d better go check on my own!"

Have you used the repair matting before, George, Delvin asked, leaning in from the aft decking?

George cleared his throat, Erm no, not yet.

There was a sudden lurch of the vessel, upsetting everyone. "Christ, muttered Hamish dropping his equipment, what now!"

We got problems, Barry called in from the rear of the boat. Paul’s vessel is listing badly. It must be taking on water!

Fuck, growled Hamish. Cut her loose. She may drag us down!

Sonny had heard the commotion. He quickly joined them. You still got the big bowie knife Hamish?

Erm, he glanced around his feet as he stood, swaying as the floor rocked beneath them. Everything had been jumbled up as they finally returned to their boats recently to take part in the Aenian’s experiment to return them home. Hamish moved a jacket, suddenly discovering his machete, quickly handing it to George. George forwarded it to Delvin who immediately went aft to join Barry who was desperately trying to disentangle the binding hawsers. Delvin clambered forward to sever the ropes spanning all three vessels. As he sliced through the hemp and plastic, the Cubic monster that had stowed away on Paul’s vessel watched nervously from the cockpit windows. Delvin stopped for a moment, stunned by what appeared to be big black opals stuck in the cavern’s walls, many having already been mined it occurred to him as he took in the empty sockets. He turned away to gaze up at the strange anomaly that they had unwittingly dragged with them, the creature almost pleading in its naivety as it clung to the windowsill, the craft rapidly sinking around it.

How’s my boat doing, George asked, joining Delvin up front?

Delvin hadn’t really given it much thought yet. He glanced across to find it was still afloat, not listing at all. You may have got away with little damage, George. Paul’s taking most of it with its deeper keel. Anyway, it’ll be best to check. I’ll be with you in a moment.

George stepped carefully from the Snow Goose’s broad gunwale to the superstructure of Paul’s magnificent cruiser, untying ropes as he did; the vessel the epitome of genteel motor cruising back on the Norfolk Broads. It would be a real shame to see it flounder here in some bejewelled grotto. He jumped from one to another to skirt along his own gunwale to enter through a side door.

Inside, immediately the all-too-familiar aroma and atmosphere filled his senses with the gaiety and nostalgia of the Norfolk Broads; the hot sultry days, the fresh summer downpours, the wonderful sense of freedom the boat implied. He reached out and patted the side with fondness, catching the sight of Barry and Sonny’s cruisers lying at the bottom of crystal clear water, clumps of what resembled seaweed already drifting in with the tide, investigating the hulls of the strange intruders like waxen seraphs of long dead sailors.

He walked through the boat with fondness, considering the lilac hued water sparkling beyond the windows, wondering if Sonny and Barry’s boats were not too deep to dive to, to rescue several personal items. It made him wonder just how watertight his artificial limbs were, dreading the prospect of water entering his leg or arm via an opening around the joint; the alien matrix embedded with stem cells from his own body seemed to have done the trick, the melding of the interconnecting sleeves holding well, but if they did give or tear he’d be in a right pickle, especially if it happened whilst floundering in water. It was one reason he was so happy about the Aenian team coming along with them in the first place, the medic briefed on every technical detail of the two operations.

Standing there, transfixed for a moment as he stared through the forward portholes, the MTB and small Aenian supply vessel drifting outward toward the entrance, recollections of the first unexpected journey through space and time bounded back; the wonderful trip along the Norfolk Broads waterways to a real deep and wild stretch of a small lake known locally as Barton Broad. They hadn’t been on there long, Bret unfurling his sails to take a spin around the big pontoons stuck in the middle – Kris too powering up the huge engines of his motor torpedo boat, racing around the broad like some police vehicle in hot pursuit of a terrorist; when before they knew it, a summer downpour had overtaken them; the depression moving in swiftly from the eastern North Sea, the eye of the electrical storm hovering just over Barton Broad in what he now knew to be a once in a lifetime set of circumstances, the chance unlikely to be repeated in perhaps another hundred or so years, if ever. He would never forget the attracting pulses of energy as the electrical colours held him spellbound sitting transfixed at the helm; the crackling blue aura produced by Kris’ communications tower, the spectral yellow gleam the engines and Tesla coils produced – the all-encompassing grey/green spiralling cloud of a funnel churning way above. That tumultuous angry vortex was upon them within seconds as if Kris’ MTB was a speck of unwanted scrim and the mouth of the wormhole a gigantic hoover just waiting to draw him up. The next thing he knew something eldritch; something ethereal, had exploded outward from Kris’ boat and slammed into him, knocking him for six, rendering him totally unconscious.

He’d awoken – to find himself half-way across the spiral arm of his quadrant of the galaxy, adrift on an utterly alien world, not only adrift in space – but time as well!

It really was all too much. He’d wanted an alternative lifestyle for a while just to show his daughter he could bounce back, survive anything – even the acrimonious breakdown of his marriage; presenting her with a new location, new found friends – and a new alternative home. Now his forty foot broads’ cruiser that had plied the tranquil waterways of the majestic Norfolk Broads, sailed the oceans of ‘Moneau Der-plu’ – planet of the big seas – was now dumped in god knows where; but it was unlikely to be earth, not by the strange bat-like creature that had swooped – as quick as the blink of an eye, into the cave; big spiked tail stretching out behind it!

George languished in reminiscence; his daughter making an appearance. He inhaled, allowing the vagary to reel out – Tansy having found her feet on his next return home from his army days. Toddling about, George noticed, she experienced an all-embodying fission when – on a hot summer’s day, he had filled her paddling pool, her toys floating about on the crystal clear surface making her freeze up with excitement. These bouts of extreme tensing had concerned him as he’d never come across it before, but the doctors assured him it was nothing to worry about, children commonly exposed to frightening or unusual stimuli sometimes worked themselves up into a heightened state of excitement or anxiety where the natural response of the body was to tense up.

George shook himself, the tiredness and disorientation of the spatial jump beginning to catch up with him. He glanced around wondering where to start when Delvin climbed aboard, rocking the boat gently.

Did you catch that bat-like thing, he asked?

Er, yeah, Delvin – just caught sight of it. Not an animal from earth, I take it.

Nope, nothing like, I’m afraid. Let’s check your boat out, eh?

George nodded, shaking himself again.

Hamish had patched up the cracks in his own big cruiser as best he could, employing everyone aboard to help bail out the seepage of water, anything and everything used to empty the bilge. Once wiped dry the big Scotsman could ascertain the damage more closely, finding the keel had suffered a right bang as they’d dropped several metres, Paul’s bigger cruiser taking most of the punishment, the deeper keel striking the overlying ledge first, allowing the other craft tied tightly to one side to just collide with the sandstone in a glancing sort of blow, sliding rather than actually falling flat. He would have liked to hot glue the cracks, almost welding them back up with a resin but with the batteries dead, depleted by the energy surge of the power conduit, he had to settle for the marine patches that sealed pretty well but were an ungainly repair, the webbing once set solid having to be ground off smooth at a later date. Still, the ship was watertight once more, for which he was glad.

The Aenian power-packs which seemed to have stronger shielding, had fared better during the trip through space and time. Hamish watching on as, utilising his small inflatable he kept squashed into one room aboard his own cruiser, they paddled about, throwing lines to pull the bulky supply vessel into the fold, swinging it round to tie it up end on in front of the nose of the Snow Goose.

Once inside they had looked it over, ascertaining any damage, finding the hull had been badly dented making it list somewhat, but not holed luckily; the Aenians able then to ferry equipment from the lifeboat to set it up on the wide rough-cut ledge hewn out of each side of the watery cavern.

People, Eeron, the Aenian’s team leader indicated later pointing with the nozzle of his assault rifle, meaning the empty sockets where the odd-looking black opals had been mined?

Hamish, shotgun over his shoulder, nodded, understanding. It was obviously a well-used location, the scythed out walls and walkways looking like some machine had produced those odd scoop-like cuts, the serration not regular however, almost as if it was hand-crafted, but what could cut the dark grained granite with a scooping kind of action? He followed one section of wall to the ceiling finding the dark grainy stone formed the cavern’s walls and roof, although the seam of light porous rock above appeared to have allowed the hole to form, the sudden weight of the boats perhaps causing a freak landslide, the wily ex-guardsman eyeing the structure carefully, somewhat suspicious of such an outcome when there must have been miles upon miles of desert to land in?

Commft tally; grunted Arron, second in charge of the Aenian away team lifting a heavy piece of equipment from the supply boat to heft up to the third male. The last member of the Aenian team was busy checking all the equipment, constantly glancing over his shoulder at the cavern’s dimensions.

Barry swam out to commandeer Kris’ MTB before it sailed away on a worldwide trip of the oceans with the outgoing tide, accepting the keys off Hamish which Kris had solemnly handed over one evening, the weight ratio of the original template just too computational to upset it further by omitting another vessel, Bret’s splendid yacht taken into account earlier by supplanting the Aenian supply boat. He clambered aboard throwing a line to Hamish whereupon the boat was easily pulled back in.

When we cut these last ropes Hamish, Paul’s vessel will sink. Do you think we should encourage our Cubic friend out?

To face the firing squad, Sonny quipped? He made his way onto Paul’s vessel with a spare Aenian assault rifle having already been acquainted with its operation, although it appeared a tad small in his arms, Delvin following on, machete clamped tightly in one hand.

Hamish called Barry and the girls back from the front of the cave, where they had been rescuing various items of clothing that had floated free from smashed and broken windows with boathooks, Barry contemplating another dive, considering the depth wasn’t too great, the temperature – even in the cave, agreeable. Along with Hanna and his wife Jess he had also gazed out from the far end of the ledge to stare out over an alien ocean, the extreme edge of a ringed planet and the prehensile tail of the semi-armoured bat-like thing hanging from the roof whilst munching on something resembling a mango, dispelling any notion that they may in fact be back on earth, just in a totally different part of it.

At length they wandered back, the girls wringing out tops and jean shorts that were dripping wet. They congregated abreast of the boats, waiting patiently while Sonny and Delvin attempted to coax the alien entity out from the cockpit.

Holding the gun in one hand like a pistol, Sonny climbed the two sets of stairs, reaching the top cabin and helm, gingerly opening the door to usher the Cubic monstrosity out.

Hurry it up, Sonny, Hamish called, his deep burr echoing. The lower deck is flooded. We don’t have much time.

Sonny acknowledged Hamish with a wave, keeping his eyes directly on the orange oddity through the windows.

Inside it was waiting for him, having watched his progress up the stairs. It turned at the window to consider Delvin, and then the welcoming committee arranged at the side of the cavern, coming swiftly to a decision, stamping toward Sonny, making him jump.

If you can hear me and (to a point) understand me, you need to get off the boat now! It’s sinking! To empathise this, he pointed downward adding; Glug, glug...

The ogre stared impassively.

Sonny backed out from the doorway, watching closely as the strange creature cum collection of rocks prepared to abandon ship.

Delvin moved out of the way as Sonny, still brandishing the Aenian assault rifle backed slowly down the stairs, finding seawater was beginning to creep from the lower cabin door.

He moved aside to stand with Delvin, then realised something. Hey guys, I doubt Cubby here will be able to utilise the raft. He’ll be too heavy won’t he?

The cubic ogre made his way down the two short flights of steps sideways, stopping before Sonny and Delvin to consider the liquid seeping from beneath, watching as it pooled around its stubby legs, the orange hairs quivering.

Finally it considered the climb from boat to boat, took one last glance up at the beautiful vessel it was leaving, then slid aboard Hamish’s, everyone present marvelling at how it propelled itself over obstacles, moving much like a caterpillar track, the single cubes forming and reforming to create any given surface to contend with purchase.

What we going to do about Paul, Delvin asked, glancing back up at the cockpit where he’d been laid?

Everyone looked to everyone else.

I very much doubt we can return him anytime soon, Sonny versed, glancing to the girls.

I’m not dragging him half-way across this world either, commented Hamish, having helped push, pull and carry the invalided ex-soldier up one mountain and down another only to have him die unexpectedly of his wounds on ‘Moneau Der-plu’.

George appeared, climbing from his vessel aboard Paul’s via the expansive dive board, pulling himself up into the waterlogged aft decking. For some reason, sentimentality perhaps, he’d been reluctant to leave his own boat once Delvin had located a bad crack and administered a patch, using a series of towels to sop up the water. A manual pump cleared the bilge by which time George was ransacking the hold, convinced he had a bottle of something hidden away, but the boat had been completely raided so the chance of sitting and soaking up the atmosphere for just one last time, was not going to happen.

He waited on the sinking cruiser whilst watching as the remarkable collection of cubes edged around the confines of Hamish’s boat, considering the next move from his cluttered craft to the broad ledge. Delvin cut the remaining ropes, nimbly skipping from one vessel to another, standing on the roof of Hamish’s cruiser.

Sonny had followed the anomaly with George at a safe distance, both climbing over to stand in the deep aft deck behind it.

You gotta’ hand it to it, Sonny quipped, it’s clever!

Shotgun to bear, Hamish prepared to confront the ogre as it completed its task, successfully bridging the gap, all assembled watching on as the cubes had almost defied gravity, the arched structure pulling away from Hamish’s gunwale to slide over one another safely, finding at no point in the operation did the arrangement show any signs of tension, the cubes instinctively able to provide leverage from one angle or another, bridging the gap, each cube following the other as they slid over or under in a manoeuvre performed as smoothly as if on solid ground.

Once on the ledge it morphed back into a shape roughly resembling a hominid, sitting there mutely.

For a moment everyone just stared.

Hamish approached, shotgun by his side.

Glistening pentagonal facets stared back.

Listen, growled the tall ex-guardsman, hefting his rifle in one hand, standing almost eye to eye. "We were supposed to go home, but this is clearly NOT HOME, is it? By sneaking onto Paul’s boat you’ve single-handedly screwed up the whole operation!"

Hamish leaned in close, hoping to prompt a reaction.

Well... he demanded?

The creature stared back, unmoved. Hamish drew in a dangerously sounding breath – as if his next move was to blast the oddity to kingdom come but then, after staring quite angrily into what passed as its head, blew out a sigh of capitulation, turning to stomp away, shaking his head.

Overcoming their fear somewhat, Hanna approached with Jess, both ready to vent their feelings.

Can you understand us, Hanna barked anxiously?

The Cubic arrangement kept mum.

Say something, Delvin demanded savagely from the roof of Hamish’s big cruiser! Behind him Paul’s beautiful and somewhat expensive luxury motor boat was beginning to sink, water filling the cabins and rooms floor by floor. George shifted his weight to witness the demise of a once lovely vessel, water gurgling as she seemed to gulp gallons by the minute now she’d got a taste for it. Would future generations wonder at the three tiered motor cruiser lying at the bottom of this idyllic inlet? Then he remembered Paul, lying serene and long dead in a hermetically-sealed heavy-duty plastic body bag, tucked neatly into the expensive seating surrounding the helm. What were they going to do about his body?

Apart from some small movements drawn by the different tones of voice, the ogre remained totally still, nothing in the way of sound coming, not even a grunt.

Fascinated, the Aenians had all gathered around, abandoning their equipment, one trying to scan the oddity with a small portable electromagnetic device, the creature seeming to watch the operator’s every move.

How come you’ve never seen this thing before then, George called across the water, happy to lean in the rear confines of Hamish’s big semi-circular deck, Sonny joining Delvin by sitting perched on the roof?

– and how come it’s here at all, Barry queried; we went through the chamber to get back into the real frame of time – how come it didn’t need to?

An inter-dimensional being, Sonny murmured, watching the Aenians examine it.

The Aenian’s team medic turned to George after his initial scan, shaking his head with ardent surprise. Lot an-mals still to find, he answered clearly, erm, big plan-et.

If you’ve got an active wormhole on your surface, Sonny pointed out, this thing just may have arrived as it did here – as a stowaway!

Poss-ble, Heeleen answered for Ando, unable to stem her intrigue.

George followed her actions closely as curiosity got the better of her and she held out a hand to its shoulder, stroking the delicate fringes of fur edging each and every cube, the delicate nap tingling as her tiny fingers explored its boundaries, the tough fibres acting alternatively like an advanced Velcro, (they had already seen), or a strong zipper, plus having the advantage of a highly magnetic surface; each and every square also possessing its own gimballed gyroscope at its centre for highly intricate moves.

Team leader Eeron fidgeted with his assault rifle, the only one to keep a respectable distance.

The curiosity seemed to shiver, the semi-circular head moving almost shyly as it considered the act of tenderness from Heeleen, the astro botanist circling the creature with unrivalled astonishment.

Jess was a little harsher. Arms akimbo, she stepped forward apace and practically bellowed at the thing, tears forming in the bottom lids of her pretty eyes.

"We were all so looking forward to going home, you sod – You understand! These people went to a hell of a lot of trouble to get us back to our families. Now we’re lost again – in god knows where – and it’s all your fault. You could have left a message somehow – in the sand perhaps, she continued eager to have her say, but anger was quickly mutating into a rage, – warned us somehow! You must have some intelligence!"

Jess!

Hanna caught her by the shoulders, trying to ease her away. You should have stayed on that boat, she yelled, allowing her friend to pull her back.

Unaffected by her outburst, Heeleen continued to circle the strange entity, running a hand down its flanks, stopping to practically prod the being occasionally just to prove it really was alive. After a moment or two, she came face to face with it again, whereupon the ogre moved properly for the first time – making everyone jump – holding out its arms.

Eeron had stepped back involuntarily into Ando the medic, Hamish whirling on the balls of his feet, Delvin nearly toppling off the roof of the boat. George had been caught with a warning yelp in his throat, swallowing it back down as Heeleen did the unthinkable next, moving before anyone could even stop her, stepping confidently into the open arms of the Cubic entity, the huge octagonal limbs folding about her lovingly.

For a full heartbeat, time seemed to have stopped, the clinking and jittering of the Aenian’s equipment arranged in a pile on the nearby ledge the only thing to be heard. Along with the others, George, holding his breath, witnessed Heeleen rest her head softly on the oddity’s chest, hold it there for a second or two as something mystical passed between them, then – much to everyone’s relief and blunt surprise the creature opened his arms again and the pretty little Aenian stepped away, pleased as punch.

The creature dropped its arms, making everyone jump again as it vibrated loudly LONELY...

Chapter 2

W hat do you suppose they are?

Just about everyone was clustered around the Aenian’s array of equipment, the banks of heavy-duty containers arranged in a rough semicircle on the crudely hewn ledge making them rock unsteadily. A satellite dish set up just at the cave’s entrance in the hope of sending a subspace signal, was also acting as a long range sensor, sweeping the heavens in the hope of discovering anything that might be in orbit. As a precursory note Eeron also searched the nearby oceans, noticing and watching the progress of three dots on his screen with interest.

Moving th’ese way, he commented trying to enlarge a picture.

Who – what are they, Hanna asked?

Eeron shook his head, boots he commented. The ships, in close formation, appeared to his sensors to be wooden in construction with an awful lot of silicon used either as components of computer arrays or glass – which didn’t seem too feasible unless they were transporting a valuable cargo?

They were several nautical kilometres out yet liable to change course at any moment but for the last few minutes since Eeron had spotted them, they appeared resolute to converge on their position.

He left the communication array to his second in command and went to check on the exploratory vessel they had brought with them, intending to prep his armaments.

Hamish, Delvin and George, along with Sonny, Barry and the girls had all said a solemn goodbye to Paul, no-one prepared to rescue the body – and do what with it? Instead trying to find the right temperance and words, although there were gravely more important things to worry about, but at least he’d gone down with his boat, which had undoubtedly been his pride and joy. After the small and somewhat impromptu service, they all set about rescuing items from both sunken boats, Sonny, Delvin and Barry all competent swimmers, able to dive down for a couple of minutes at a time, opening up windows, doors and hatches to allow most items to just float up, other boxes of food and tools were pulled up via a line.

Together Barry and Sonny looked over the damage to both cruisers, finding neither would be worth repairing anytime soon, the vessels somehow taking the full force of the drop as they fell several metres to collide with an overhanging shelf before plunging nose-first into the deep chasm of the inlet. Kris’ motor torpedo boat had somehow – perhaps being weighted down at the back – managed to survive the fall, skimming the ledge rather than hitting it. It was as well the force of the drop had allowed the three boats to bob about and drift somewhat towards the cave’s opening, the tide perchance receding, before the Aenian supply ship, Hamish’s Snow Goose and George’s big cruiser along with Paul’s magnificent motor boat came crashing down on top of them causing one almighty mess!

What do you make of these, Delvin asked as gear and equipment was still being hauled up from the deep? Hamish wiped sweat from his forehead and visibly relaxed for a moment, almost glad it seemed for the break, the constant heaving on ropes making his arms ache. Conversely George relished the activity, revelling in his new found flexibility, testing his bionic arm to the full.

It must be the jump, Hamish simpered as Delvin glanced up at him.

We were able to sleep it off last time, the swarthy mechanic mentioned, remembering – the remark also in Hamish’s defence.

Hamish accepted one of the opals Delvin had prised from a wall, the gem incredibly heavy for its size, fitting just in the Scotsman’s palm. He wiped it in his hands holding it up to the light, the stone jet black, allowing no light at all to penetrate its obsidian gestalt, almost absorbing the natural illumination of the cave.

He weighed it in his hand, appreciating its quality, looking then at the surrounding walls, finding there was still many to be had, the miners not too bothered with those they couldn’t reach.

If they’re opals, you realise how much just one of these suckers would fetch?

Not really up on my geology of late, Delvin; but I bet you’re going to tell me.

Damn right! Assuming these are opals and not magnetite or some other stone, just one of these would buy a fleet of luxury motor boats with change to spare!

Hmph. Hamish handed it back, breathing in pointedly, resisting the urge to state the obvious.

Delvin cleared his throat, watching as Barry surfaced, Sonny close behind, both climbing aboard the MTB’s short dive-board to scramble up onto the rear decking, dragging toolboxes with them, shaking off water. Hanna and Jess threw clean towels.

Check this out, Barry, Delvin called, watching as they dried themselves off. He lobbed the stone over, Barry catching it, surprised at its weight.

‘Jeeze!"

Both he and Sonny perused the black oddity.

Hematite, Barry commented at length.

Sonny shook his head. It’s not volcanic of that I’m pretty sure. I don’t think its opal either – wrong luminosity. Could be something like Jet or Serendibite or Jasper perhaps. He glanced around the cavern himself, considering the outlay and the way the stones glittered in the rock surface.

The block of cubes – which for the last hour had been suffering inexhaustible examinations, inspections and verbal inquisitions from Ando the bio-medic and especially Heeleen – who as an astro botanist found the creature fascinating – managed to escape the spotlight for a moment as epidermal and hair samples were analysed by the array of equipment now aligned along one wall, and shuffle over to where Delvin was still examining a second black-looking opal. In a deft action of interest and open curiosity, it joined their little group, bending slightly at the waist to inspect the black stone as it was passed around. At length, George gave the opal back to Hamish, indicating that he should hand it over.

Hamish did so, the animosity dwindling somewhat as they had quickly ascertained the creature was completely benign – dumb – but harmless; the rankling issue of why it had to hide away in the hope of being accepted highlighting the fact that it was really just one lonely individual who may have inadvertently found himself marooned some time ago, or worse sucked up and dumped on ‘Moneau Der-plu’ by the same circumstances as they had, the poor entity lost and alone, reluctant to wander far from its point of arrival.

Having moored Kris’ motor torpedo boat hard up against the big wide ledge tucked in front of the Aenian supply vessel, George lashing his craft behind the Snow Goose, Barry and Sonny joined the group, the five gathering round the orange rock formation, the fear of being eaten or assimilated, fast evaporating. All watched in quiet surprise as the entity examined the opal in some depth, turning it over and over between two cubes as if inspecting it for flaws.

Long lost friend, quipped Delvin somewhat quietly.

Sonny smirked, the creature’s body shooting up straight at the chuckling, a very deft imitation picked up already from those around it.

George shot them all a glance, the look unequivocal in its tone – live and let live.

Energy – strong – big, the golem grated.

Barry, startled at the oddity’s voice, took the other rock from Sonny to appraise it again, testing its weight, wishing his electrical tool boxes hadn’t been swimming at the bottom of the drink. May hold some kind of piezoelectricity, he concluded. Could – in effect work as a kind of primitive battery – even a timepiece. These types of rock often vibrate at a regular frequency; perhaps our friend here can detect the force.

Eeron, the Aenian team leader walked over with his head bowed thoughtfully. The fact that the two other males had quietly climbed into their battle gear, gained everyone’s attention. Boats stopped erm – out – he waved a hand behind him, indicating the open ocean beyond, kneel cause – tion.

Oh hell...

Hamish un-shouldered his American pump shotgun, one of five now in existence: Back on ‘Moneau Der-plu’, having almost run out of shells in their attempt to reach the colony, the engineers had taken this into consideration – the fact that handling the weapons of the security services was not too feasible for any of the visitors – their hands far too big, so quickly produced something similar in design and function – complete with a fully primed shotgun shell, the brass or metal rim substituted by a carbonite collar, the cardboard containing the shot very similar to the material of the waxed containers their isotonic fluids were imported in; the explosive easy to manufacture; the chemists familiar with nitrates and able to form a stable nitro-glycerol compound that required very little in the way of a cordite propellant. First testing the shells out, the engineers found there would be serious wear and tear on the barrel, so reconfigured it slightly by reaming out the steel liner and replacing it with one of their own. Now the guns fired more like a rifle but up close and personal it was still quite a weapon.

Bandoliers across his chest, Hamish strutted to the edge of the cavern, peering out over the ocean, George and Delvin on his shoulder. Sure enough three shabby-looking galleons sat, sails of a dusty black hemp – or something vaguely similar rippling in the breeze – being furled as they watched; flashes of sunlight lancing through the roughly hewn sheets. As Hamish tightened his grip on his shotgun, two launches were practically thrown overboard, many sailors diving into the warm lilac water to rescue them; climbing aboard with athletic ease.

They’re putting to shore, Delvin stated, sighing as he dropped a pair of binoculars from his eyes to massage them, the glare harsh in the lenses.

They were all feeling it, George remonstrated with himself, last time they had survived the transportation through the wormhole, they all needed rest – even some sleep, but now, only an hour or two after travelling god knows how far through space and time, they had their hands full with an alien contact. What will they make of us, he wondered aloud?

Delvin coughed theatrically; handing the glasses to Hamish. It’s not us they’ve got to worry about. What the hell do you think they are going to make of the rock formation?

As one, all three suddenly turned back to consider the alien entity. At that particular moment Heeleen was brushing one particular cube with her fingers, holding it delicately in her tiny hands, the oddity allowing her to remove and examine at length one of its whole.

Hamish sucked in a heartfelt breath, turning back to watch the boats being loaded up, the occupants looking tall and rangy and possibly bloodthirsty – all at this range!

He turned away, shielding his eyes. What do you think, he asked of George?

He was in no doubt having spied the sailors himself: Prepare, he concluded quickly. It’s a foe until proven otherwise!

Agreed.

Delvin strode back to the others, Barry and Sonny moving to look for themselves, bringing more powerful spy glasses. Once at the edge of the cave it was obvious the two row boats were heading their way, the occupants already aware of their presence it seemed as a captain of sorts held centre stage in one boat, staring at the cave’s entrance as if all his worldly possessions were kept there, the oncoming sailors having rather ridiculous hairdos – unless they were wearing hats!

Oh, joy... mused Sonny. Let’s hope they are friendly?

Battle stations, remarked George to the Aenians; glancing to Heeleen who looked to him with concern clouding her pretty features, so wrapped up in the alien entity the unease surrounding her hadn’t sunk through. The orange rock formation hovered nearby, unsure – it seemed – of the forthcoming situation; appearing to protect the small astro botanist anyway it could. George climbed aboard his own cruiser, checking the interior decking plates quickly for any signs that the repairs to his keel was still watertight, collecting his own version of the firearm the Aenians had constructed from Hamish’s original; the weapon wrapped in an old jumper and kept securely in a cupboard; the gun solely built because the weapons of the security detachment were just too small to handle competently. They’d been able to let loose a few rounds on their very last excursion back on the colonist’s home planet, finding the shotgun remarkably light and accurate – devastating at close range, Delvin blowing a dirty great hole clean though a trunk of a tree. All five weapons had been presented with two bandoliers each, Sonny and Barry receiving theirs amid the Aenian’s gratuitous leaving gifts.

George had stowed his firearm away, hoping to keep it hidden from the authorities who, in Britain – had they landed back on the Broads, still persisting in promoting extremely tight gun laws, would have confiscated it without a second thought; but now the gun could possibly turn out to be a godsend, although swiftly cataloguing the combined fire power of the Aenians as well as theirs, as he donned a bandolier, it was inconceivable that they would be outgunned.

He closed his cupboard thoughtfully, pausing to glance around again at the confines of his beloved boat, grateful to fate it wasn’t as smashed as Barry’s and Sonny’s; startled as Heeleen had crept up behind him. She was so slight she’d managed to climb aboard after him without rocking the cruiser, curious at his antiquated craft. She moved cautiously; marvelling at the superstructure and fittings as she clung unsteadily to a tabletop.

Somewhat embarrassed by the shotgun he was toting, George wiped sweat from his brow, unsure of the situation.

Heeleen seem to shrug, twisting her mouth, standing nervously under him as she continued to take in the boat’s interior, her protective over-suit, unable to hide the lovely curves of the Aenian female form. Outside, hovering just at his stern was the cubic monstrosity, reluctant to let Heeleen out of its sight. ‘It’s one thing being upstaged by one of your own peers,’ ruminated George, admiring her, ‘quite another when it is some alien curiosity not even catalogued yet!’

George! A warning call from Hamish, made the both of them jump, George quickly moving to comfort Heeleen. Stay here if you wish, he tried to stress, but despite her affections for the tall rangy ex-marine, Heeleen would feel safer with her own kind, patting his chest warmly with the flat of a tiny hand, telling him to take care, a small hug eliciting a fire within George, one he had to suppress awkwardly as his presence was needed.

He bent, kissing her quickly on the head, his nostrils filling with an exotic female aroma; then he was leading her along the galley again to climb out through a side door, scrambling back up onto the rough ledge; the cubic ogre waiting patiently.

They’re definitely inbound, Delvin grated, his throat sounding a little hoarse. He too was brandishing his new shotgun, bandolier over one shoulder, binoculars in another hand, unsure of what to discard. They look bloody weird, he added.

How we going to play this, George enquired under his breath to Hamish?

The big Scotsman sucked in his lips thoughtfully, nodding then at the cave’s layout. We can’t be surrounded. With longboats they’ll be able to scoot past our craft and land either side of the inlet further in, so we’ll have to protect our rear as well as our flanks. He glanced around, George following his gaze, discovering the Aenians had built a small redoubt out of their equipment and were busily hiding behind it; Arron having collected up the radio dish and secured it away safely. All four were armed to the teeth; assault rifles; sidearms; hunting knives of some description on well-endowed utility belts, plus their odd-looking bracelets that seemed to act as communications devices, plus a whole lot more, although George had yet to discover what?

Sonny, Hamish coaxed, would you mind stationing yourself with Barry on the aft deck of George’s craft, keeping an eye on our back, just in case they try and slip past and around us. Delvin you take the middle, positioning yourself up on my roof, giving yourself a good all-round vision. Girls – out of sight please. George and I – along with the Aenians, I expect will try and do the introductions. If things get hairy, pull back into a tight group; everyone alright with that?

They all nodded, although Hanna and Jess didn’t like being stuck out alone with Sonny and Barry, the three boats providing quite a wide gap for anyone – or thing – to scamper up and over – or through the superstructure. Don’t worry, Delvin posed confidently as they climbed aboard George’s cruiser. This baby, and he patted the firearm fondly, will stop a rhino dead in its tracks!

The cubic entity stepped carefully to position himself on the other flank of the Aenian’s equipment, its blocks reforming to create a broader, stouter blockade. Heeleen crouched into it, taking solace in the alien’s new found company.

Within minutes, voices could be heard beyond the cave’s entrance, harsh guttural grunts and what sounded like low pitched expletives, one darker voice riding out over the others, all amid the splash of oars.

Hamish walked with George to the far end of the cave to greet the approaching boats; a sultry-hot breeze wafting in from over the sea.

As the two strayed into the sunlight, the occupants of the roughly hewn vessels all suddenly froze, oars put to rest, the sailors stunned, staring at them incredulously, their voices dropping away to a whisper.

First contact, Hamish grunted to George out of the side of his mouth. I never thought it would be like this.

Hm, his friend coughed, clearing his throat. "Bit different from the traditional