The Last Quest

By Trudi Port

Join Yedor and Starcose on a riveting journey set in the near future of 2030.

 

Yedor, a young man with enhanced powers, and his wise grandmother, Starcose, are tasked by MI5's Sir John to smuggle a pivotal vial of DNA from China to a clandestine lab in Borneo, aiming to alter Earth's evolutionary path. Guided by the divine dragon, Shen Di Long, they navigate a world teetering between past and future, wisdom and wit.

 

As they traverse from Hong Kong to the Borneo jungle, their mission becomes more than a mere adventure; it's a philosophical exploration of growth and potential. The DNA vial symbolises not only their quest but the transformative power of their journey. This story intertwines the threads of knowledge, humour, and the human condition, challenging perceptions of reality and possibility.

 

Will you join them in unravelling the mysteries that lie in the very fabric of our planet's future?

 

This story is of the past and future, contemplating what we know and what we think we know. The journey shines its light up into the heavens and down into ancient caves and lakes opening doors of thought. Pondering is a good state to achieve. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Peak House Publishing
• Release date: Dec 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781738476312

Book preview

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Copyright © 2023 Trudi Port

Cover design by Spiffing Publishing Ltd

All rights reserved

Published by The Peak House Publishing

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7384763-0-5

eBook ISBN: 978-1-7384763-1-2

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Coreena and Rory

We stand on a mountain pass in the midst of whirling snow and blinding mist through which we get glimpses now and then of paths which may be deceptive. If we stand we shall be frozen to death. If we take the wrong road we shall be dashed to pieces. We do not certainly know whether there is any right one. What must we do? ‘Be strong and of good courage.’ Act for the best, hope for the best, and take what comes … If death ends all, we cannot meet death better.

–Bertrand Russell

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About The Author

CHAPTER 1

HONG KONG 1955

You would have been forgiven if you hadn’t seen the island through the thick mist, but the image became clear to the keen young gaze scanning the sea on that warm and humid morning. Her bright blue eyes stared out then upwards, connecting with her father’s face. Messages of excitement and anticipation bounced between them; her enthusiasm, vibrant and strong, melted with the love and protection that his glance replied back. The soft heartbeat of the ship became a few decibels louder as the island shrugged off its steamy morning shroud. The little girl’s handgrip on the rail tightened unwittingly as, bit by bit, the final curtain of haze drew back exposing the green humps of hills, like the back of a friendly dragon. With every nautical mile, new treasures emerged; far-off dots became fishing boats, a ferry, a tug and, on land, white buildings appeared snuggled around the docking bay and scattered along the base of the hills gleaming in the sunshine. There was silence on the deck of the ship as both child and father stared in awe. They had arrived at their island of dreams.

From the peace and predictably steady rhythm of the ship’s engines, this little family disembarked into a cacophony of sound and a sea of colours, in what was to be their new home. I cannot fully recall the names of each family member now, so for the telling of this tale I shall refer to the little girl as Starcose.

If you had lifted your focus from the family for a few minutes, as they tried to push their way through the throngs of locals to the row of sedan chairs and rickshaws, you would have begun to see the natural beauty of the island’s charm, something which would play an immense role in the life of our young Starcose. Looking beyond the harbour, into the near distance, you would have seen the crowds of people all dressed in black tops and black trousers, like a colony of a rare species of beetle. Beyond and up again, the thick green foliage takes over, covering all in its path. Looking higher still, the richness of these lush mountains abounds, then on up to their very peaks a swirl of mist, like a living, breathing dragon, lovingly clinging to the tallest point. To the right it tapers to a peninsula and to the left bounces down in three giant steps to the sea. Scattered amongst this greenery are white buildings nestled deep behind thick foliage enriched by tropical scarlet flowers, each with a spectacular view of the harbour, the mainland, the islands, the sun setting at dusk and rising at dawn.

Starcose and her family had arrived, through various means of transport, at the Repulse Bay Hotel in all its colonial grandeur, with white-gloved waiters, slow-moving rattan and wood ceiling fans, and rickshaws waiting to carry you a few yards to the beach of white sand and crystal-clear blue-green water of the South China Sea. The timing of this was very fortuitous as the temperature on this island often rose to thirty degrees centigrade around noon.

It was four months later that the little family had moved into their new home at the top of the Peak, with magnificent views of the harbour across to Kowloon, then beyond to a scattering of lush green islands and white sands.

Harold was sitting in his now normal spot in the veranda in his high-backed rattan chair, puffed up with an assemblage of rich deep-blue cushions, transfixed by the comings and goings of a vast array of seaworthy vessels criss-crossing the harbour below. This morning his attention had been occupied by the intricate manoeuvring of a rather large barge attempting to dock in a rather small space on the Kowloon side. This had become one of his many new pastimes but with good reason, as he was later to become a part-time duty officer for the Hong Kong police patrol at sea. I say, that’s quite a tricky operation! But my goodness, with a little more manoeuvring they’ll do it! And with that he slapped his hand on the side of his leg and returned his concentration to other deserving activities in the channel.

Starcose, meanwhile, had come into the veranda and plonked herself down, as all good children do, on her favourite chair which was also rattan but of a slightly smaller size and with a beautiful sea-blue set of soft silk cushions which she could snuggle comfortably into like every almost eight-year-olds love to do. Now settled, she turned to her little sister Skyla to her right, as she snuggled up to their mother on the large sofa and blew her a kiss. She had noticed her father still deeply absorbed in the activities below and so cast her eye towards Madelyn, her older sister, sitting the other side of her mother but she seemed too deeply engrossed in a book she was reading.

Then Starcose noticed that the activities in the harbour must have become quite exciting as her father had now leant forward right up to the edge of the giant windows. In fact, she thought his nose must be just about touching the glass. This action had exposed his back to Starcose who became instantly absorbed by the little trickles of sweat as they became rivulets running from the nape of his neck to his spine, and dark, wet pictures began to form on the back of his pale shirt like ink blotches on thick blotting paper. Each dribble tickled as it moved which made him shudder and both Starcose and Skyla giggle.

Theodora, wife of Harold and mother of the children, glanced briefly at her husband’s excitement and her lips smiled as someone still in love. The quietly revolving ceiling fans gently kept the air circulating, but for our Theodora, her most prized possessions of all were the soldiers of dehumidifiers lined up in the drying rooms and on duty in every room of the flat. An organisation of immense satisfaction for her.

Three years had now passed since their arrival and today, Saturday 12th of June 1960, as normal, they were sitting together on the large open veranda looking out over the harbour to Kowloon.

The sky was still beautifully blue that morning, as the mist hadn’t yet risen from its bed and it would still be some time before it began to wrap its tail around the highest point on the Peak.

"Does today beckon yet another outing on the boat or climb up a mountain? sulked Madelyn as she plonked herself on the large rattan chair in the shade on the most easterly side of the enormous veranda. As if on cue, Theodora also joined the family, pulling up a chair next to Harold, who tenderly picked up her hand and rested it gently on his knee. He then replied, Well actually, as it is birthday time for your two younger sisters, we have arranged a surprise of a couple of days off school for you all and yes, we shall be going on a boat but not ours. We are going to Hei Ling Chau to stay with Grandad and Granny."

I bet this was Starcose’s idea so she can collect and train more butterflies.

Both your little sisters love the idea and you can bring as many books as you like, don’t forget it’s their birthday and this is their treat, so be a little generous please, Theodora said to Madelyn, grinning at her two younger sisters, who knew well she was playing with them.

During this conversation they were indulging in large, cooled glasses of freshly squeezed guava and dragon fruit juice served to them on a silver tray by AChoi, their head amah. Starcose really liked her, she was always polite, very efficient and even looked after the animals; and sometimes, but most importantly, happily shared her meals squatting with the three sisters on the back stairs of the amah’s quarters. This had become quite a ritual for the girls before bed, although quite a secret from their parents, who would never have approved.

On the day of their departure, all were in a fluster, packing, then changing their minds, then repacking then finally adding extra bags, much to the consternation of Harold as he knew they wouldn’t fit in the car, nor would there be room on the ferry.

Finally, all was packed and in the car.

I just need to feed the animals and lock everything up, said Starcose.

I will help you with the animals in a minute, Skyla had shouted after her.

Okey dokey, she tossed back over her shoulder before closing the door at the end of the corridor. A small smile played with the edges of Starcose’s mouth. She loved her little sister in a special way and was somehow transported back to the day and indeed the very hour Skyla had been born.

The weather was warm when she had opened the kitchen door to the back garden. She could feel the sun’s rays on her face as she glanced down the long path looking from side to side for her scooter. It was kind of Auntie Edna to have remembered to bring it, she thought, and found herself whispering, Thank you, as she dragged the little red scooter from under a bush. A wet clay-like feeling instantly oozed through her fingers as she held the handlebars. Bird poo, she whispered and pushed the scooter up to her Auntie Edna who, for an instant, with eyes tightly closed, was letting the heat of the sun caress her white-powdered face. With a sudden start, as if scolded for not concentrating at school, her auntie returned to her normal orderly and obliging self and immediately got a clean cloth and ran it under the warm tap, gently squeezing a drop of washing-up liquid, then returning to her niece. She gently rubbed and cleansed her open hands. Auntie Edna took the liberty of a cuddle and a quick smile over her shoulder in the direction of her niece as she walked back to the sink to rinse the cloth clean. Thinking all along that ‘niece’ was a term she used loosely between the two families, as Harry and herself were blessed with no children and her best friends with three. Oddly there was no animosity, but this was the closest that she would ever be to having her own child in her own house.

There were no tears or tantrums with Starcose, she wasn’t like that, the world of nature had never offended her and after wiping her hands and the handlebar, she had thanked her auntie and was on her way back down into the garden.

Well, shouted Auntie Edna after her, tradition says bird poo is good luck and it is your birthday today as well! Starcose smiled back at her aunt as she turned and went into the house.

Now a lot of thoughts had flashed through Starcose’s mind between the closing of the door and the next thing that had happened, but she had never quite been able to remember what they were. There was never any real sequence of events other than hearing the first strange sound which seemed to be coming from the other side of the field right at the bottom of the garden. When she heard it the second time it was a little more defined and she felt it was almost like a person calling her name. The third sound began to increase in volume like a bugle trumpeting an arrival as it was getting closer to her. Then as if by some strange magic her father had landed on the garden side of the hedge, he bent down, picked her up and swung her round and round until the sky and the ground were one.

I have got you the best birthday present ever! he shouted between breaths. A little baby girl! With this, he squeezed the baby so tight she could hardly breathe. When he did finally release her, their eyes met and tears of joy could be seen trickling over his cheeks which caught the sun and twinkled like golden strands. Now I don’t know if her father had even thought that his choice of words might have been slightly misleading, but it’s a fact that from that moment Starcose genuinely believed she had been given her little sister as her very own birthday present.

Starcose shook her head to clear her thoughts but could still feel the warmth of the sun and see her beaming father. Snapping out of it, she tried to come up with something witty to say but instead took a deep breath and called back down the corridor the same words she had said for the last three years.

Happy birthday sis, don’t forgot you belong to me! love you.

Now to most people, sharing your birthday with a little sister would have seemed an uncomfortable idea. After all, you would have to give up being the centre of attention, presents would perhaps be that little bit less, your special day would be somehow diluted but to Starcose this was not, nor ever had been, the case. Quite simply Skyla was hers.

‘I wonder how many other children my age love nature as much as I do,’ Starcose thought, scanning her rooms, which included a glassed-in veranda where the sun poured in during the day and the moonbeams could be seen playing on the window and roof at night. Here it was that she now stood awaiting the animals’ return to their sleeping accommodation. ‘The birds love their home,’ you could have heard her whisper as she called each one by name to her arm and gently moved them into their individual nest boxes. You might have also heard the scurry of little feet and perhaps seen the flick of a tail or two as ripples in the sawdust traced the routes of the returning rodents to their food bowls and nests from their games of the day.

One such rodent, however, had pride of place in Starcose’s living world. She had looked the species up diligently as soon as she had brought him home after bartering for him in the renowned backstreet wet market and decided that he could have been nothing other than an Indian palm squirrel. She had reached this conclusion due to his shape, striped bushy tail, size, nature, and the busy shipping routes between India and Hong Kong which would have allowed a straightforward passage, albeit in horrific conditions. Starcose shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

The final convincing fact, she recalled, was the Chinese love for the delicacy of slow-cooked rodents and an exotic species could command a reasonable price, which she had managed to acquire by saving up her pocket money and doing extra chores after school.

As she tenderly said good night to her favourite rodent, Tanganyika, she remembered the hours she had spent deliberating on his name. And now, slowly breathing out a sigh with a slight nod to his head, Starcose said, It’s a good name, as she envisaged the beauty of the clear waters of the lake in the morning as the mist slowly lifted its weight to the sky.

Now, having finally sorted all the animals out with extra food prepared and left in the various agreed places for AChoi, Starcose speedily packed her things for the holiday. Had you been looking through her veranda window while she hurtled around the room, you might well have noticed she had not only packed her clothes and other essentials but had a second bag with her animal books and butterfly net which doubled up as her water net for the numerous variety of freshwater toads and frogs, as well as seawater fish and crustaceans, all of which she would watch then photograph and finally record with name, date and place. Now she was ready.

Night everyone, she cooed, even though she knew perfectly well it was still day. She was also aware, however, that they would recognise the rhythm of the traditions of night and hoped this would help them settle calmly for the time she would not be there.

It was only a matter of a couple of weeks after they had returned from their short holiday on Hei Ling Chau that the day of the grand party was upon them.

We do need to go now, Harold announced to the ‘girls’, as he liked to call his family. We can’t be late for the dinner. It is an enormous occasion and we are really very honoured to be invited.

He observed there was absolutely no response to his little speech, just more speed in the silent movie of outfits running from door to door. Now, Harold was a very patient man but if you were to look really closely at him, you would have noticed a very slight stiffening of his shoulders and a quickening of his pace as he walked towards the piano, his solace on these sorts of occasions.

Although a little late, others were still arriving as the family entered the massive Chinese restaurant. Had you accompanied them up the steps that evening and stood beside them when the door was opened, the cacophony of sound and burst of hot air would have come dangerously close to knocking you backwards. Once in, the massive room opened itself and engulfed you. With over two hundred people already seated and shouting in Cantonese, Starcose found it hard to fight back the desire to run. Glancing around, Starcose observed there were very few windows; she thought the room must have formed the entire ground floor of a block of flats.

Not a good night for a typhoon! Starcose uttered. She then shuddered.

Are you alright? Theodora shouted in her ear. Is it the noise? It’ll be better once we are seated, I’m sure.

Starcose began to open her mouth in reply, then promptly clamped it shut and nodded. ‘I’m sure it’ll be better once we’re at our table,’ she thought.

Once they were finally seated, the tables seemed absolutely massive for her young frame and what’s more her family had been split up and her sense of isolation was beginning to grow. She could just about catch the eye of her mother and her sisters across the table. Her father had been moved to her left, just one guest between them. She had meant to stick as close as possible to either of them but somehow this plan had fallen away by the waiters’ efficiency and insistence on the table arrangement being adhered to.

The young Chinese man sitting immediately on her right turned and gave her a full beaming welcome smile revealing shining gold between many areas of his teeth.She smiled a rather furtive response. ‘At least he seems friendly, perhaps I could ask him a question about the food and which piece of cutlery we are supposed to use with which dish,’ she thought as she looked around at what seemed like hundreds of waiters with rounds of dishes held high, being perfectly balanced and placed in a never-ending stream on all of the tables. As she looked towards her father, she noticed the next round of waiters heading in their direction. She turned instead to the friendly face of her newly found comrade. As the first dishes were placed in front of them, with immense speed and dexterity, she pointed to the cutlery with a shrug and what she hoped was a universally understood code. He laughed out loud and introduced himself in pidgin English as Hwan Choy Yeung and pointed to the chopsticks. So relieved to meet her newly found informed companion, she turned to her father and picked up the pair of chopsticks from the chopstick stand at the top right of her place setting and gave him a rather cheeky ‘I know best’ look as she plunged them into the steaming food in the bowl in front of her. Her newly found friend Hwan smiled and nodded in approval.

It was at about round four of the dishes when both Hwan Choy Yeung and Starcose began to communicate a little more smoothly. A lot of hand gesturing was involved along with broken English, finger drawing on the tablecloth and unabashed guessing at what the other was saying, which often seemed to end in the clapping of approval when some meaning was finally received and understood.

They had just started to taste the food in front of them when Hwan made comment to the effect that the meat was very tender. Starcose, who had avoided meat since she was a very little girl, had inadvertently bitten into a mouthful which she had picked up with her chopsticks in error. Lifting her serviette, she had discreetly spat out the food, scrunching the linen napkin tightly, which she had then placed back on her lap. As she had no intention of offending her newfound friend, she agreed with his comment adding, in carefully chosen words, that the flavour of the whole bowl was very rich and unusual. To which Hwan replied that chow dog was probably the best dog meat and the addition of the beating in the sack while alive was the most effective form of tenderising. Hwan had not in any way intended to cause upset or consternation to our young Starcose; to Hwan this was completely normal food and a common tradition at Chinese New Year. To attempt to justify this tradition and appease her growing alarm and what was clearly becoming panic, he had blurted out