Chapter 3

Streemly looked from the high desert sun to the shimmering horizon. There was something reflected in the haze. She found herself moving closer. A scruffy little man was painting a huge red line at least ten yards wide. His shoes were spattered with red paint. The rest of him was suddenly pristine. He looked up and smiled at Streemly. He pointed and whispered, “I don’t know you.” The wide red line meandered for miles towards the distant hills. Streemly pointed at the line. “Why?” she asked. The little man became her Tactics tutor from college. “Someone has to paint the red lines on the maps,” he said, holding out a tiny can of blue paint. She rapped his head with her knuckles. Tap, tap. “Wheelies,” he said. “They leave marks too.” Streemly shook her head. “You’re crazy Pops,” she said. Tap, tap. Streemly woke up. She felt hot. Someone was knocking on her door.

“Streemly?”It was her father.

“Yes.Umm. Come in.” Streemly sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

“I just got these results.” Kwait was obviously very excited. “Sixteen of the buggers have disappeared. Sixteen!” He rattled a sheet of paper in Streemly’s face. She reached for it, trying to focus but Kwait was off round the room.

“All from the same area.Ross plotted their positions. Look.” Kwait rattled the paper in front of Streemly again. She reached for it but was too slow. Kwait was off round the room once more. “I’m going to take this to the Board you see if I don’t. Something’s going on out ...” Kwait’s voice trailed off as he left the room.

Streemly sat and thought about maps for a few minutes. She had been dreaming. What about? Damn, but that was annoying. She was certain that right on the edge of her memory was a whole lifetime of very important experiences.If she could only remember them. The effort of trying to bring back the taunting, illusive thoughts irritated the inside of her mind. She could feel the thoughts tickling her neurones and then dashing away. Then she thought about what her father had been ranting about.

“Crikey!” she said.

*

Kwait felt like a schoolboy summoned before the headmaster. The chair was straight backed and unyielding. His fashionably stiff collar rubbed at the slightest movement. He sighed lightly to himself and glanced at the delicate porcelain cup of lukewarm chawoo tea he held in his lap. His index finger was well and truly stuck in the ridiculously small and convoluted handle.

It was only Kwait’s second visit to the Board of Governors’ underground bunker. The first visit had been to receive his promotion to Director of The Space Services Centre and a commendation on his research into Gravity Projection.A jolly little bash, knee deep in bullshit and backslapping. Kwait was no politician and hated the whole affair.

Governor Septa had his head down reading the report on his desk. Kwait sat looking at Septa’s bald patch wondering how a toad like him rose to such dizzy heights. He remembered Governor Septa as being the only Governor to vote against his appointment.

Septa had said, “Gravity Research will never get off the ground!Ha, ha.” That was before Kwait’s Gravity Projectors became responsible for moving ninety-nine per cent of all objects in space. Suddenly, Septawas behind Kwait all the way. And always had been!

Septa looked up and removed his glasses.

With the cup-handle still clamped to his digit like a Chinese Finger Trap, Kwait leaned forward expectantly.

Septa put his glasses back on and turned to the start of the report. Kwait sat back taking the opportunity to give his finger a good yank. Success! And pain! He placed the cup carefully on the edge of Septa’s desk, willing his eyes to stop watering. After several minutes Septa looked up and removed his glasses once more. “Just as disturbing the second reading as the first,” he said.

“ So why didn’t you read it before I got here, big nose!? ” thought Kwait reaching for the tea and then thinking better of it.

“There is something out there,” continued Septa slowly.“Invisible to our Beta scanners, and capable of wiping out several spacecraft simultaneously over a very large area.” Septa bashed his fist on the desk and sat back triumphantly as if he had invented the concept.

“ Yes. I know, you twot ! I wrote the report! ” thought Kwait.

“The Gravitonic Scanner looks most promising ...”

“ Most promising? ” thought Kwait. “ It’s fantastic! You ignorant oick . Streemly’s done a brilliant job! ”

“... and is ready for action. That’s why I want you,” Septa thrust a chubby index finger in Kwait’s direction, “to be on the mission to find out exactly what this new menace is.”

“ You could have told me this over the phone, you balding git,” thought Kwait.

“You will, of course need an assistant. Your daughter, as Head of the Scanner project is best qualified to go with you.” Septa tossed some papers across the desk. “All the arrangements have been made.”

“ Thanks for asking for my thoughts on the subject,” thought Kwait. Did he detect a faint smirk on Septa’s face?

“You and your daughter will report to Space Rehearsal Station 87 at five tomorrow morning. Good luck!”

“ ! ” thought Kwait.

: Space