Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London (21 page)

Someone very far away was calling his name. Johnny tried to recall where he was and why he felt so hungry and thirsty. His stomach felt as though it had been turned inside out over and over again. He must have folded … he remembered now, though didn't understand why he'd lost consciousness—he thought he was used to it by now. He opened his eyes. Clara was leaning over him. She had a drinking bottle in her hand and pushed the straw into his mouth, squeezing the fluid into it. As the warm liquid made its way down his throat, Johnny felt his insides disentangle. He smiled weakly. “Johnny,” she said. “You've got to wake up—we're in trouble.”

Johnny looked around the bridge. Now they were traveling through space, the floor had somehow shifted through ninety degrees to let them face the way they were moving. Alf was lying a few meters away, his eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling. The Chancellor lay over by the far wall. Sol's display screens were showing the same view in every direction—a mass of tumbling rocks, nearly obscuring the points of light beyond. The bridge looked battered—almost nothing was in its correct place, though Johnny was pleased to see the captain's chair was still at its center. “Thanks,” he said to Clara, handing her the drink and getting unsteadily to his feet. “Where did you get that?”

“I made it in the galley,” Clara replied. “You've lost a lot of fluid in the fold. It should help.”

“The galley? How long was I out?” asked Johnny.

“It's been about a day,” said Clara. “I didn't know what to do.”

“A day?” Johnny replied. “You're kidding. What happened?”

“I don't know,” said Clara. “But you shouldn't have folded so far. Definitely not with a baby. I tried to stop it. Something went wrong—it wasn't like normal.”

“I didn't know, sorry,” said Johnny. “Everything happened so fast. Did we make it?”

“I'm not sure,” said Clara. “I can't get Sol to respond … or Alf.”

“Alf's easy. I'll show you,” said Johnny, walking across to the android and taking hold of his left ear. “You turn this all the way round,” he said as he rotated the ear, which snapped back into its proper position.

Alf sat up. “Was that another fold?” he asked. “Oh dear, poor Sol does not seem well,” he continued as he looked around the bridge. “Have we reached Terra?”

“It doesn't look like it,” said Johnny. “I'll see if I can raise Sol. Can you take the Chancellor down to sickbay? I think it might be a while before it's back with us.”

“Of course, Master Johnny,” said Alf, and the android walked over to the unconscious phasmeer, effortlessly hoisting the creature almost twice its size over one shoulder and carrying it to the lifts. Johnny walked over to the captain's chair and fell gratefully into it while Clara perched on the arm on his left.

“Hello, Sol,” said Johnny, looking hopefully at the ship's voice screen in front of him, which was alternating very slowly between slightly lighter and slightly darker. There was no obvious response from the ship. Johnny started entering some basic commands directly from a console on his right. Poor Sol, he thought. It must be like slapping her around the face to get her to wake up, but he didn't know what else to do. He took another swig from the bottle Clara was still holding, and asked
what she meant by saying the fold wasn't normal.

“It's hard to explain,” Clara replied. “Whenever it's happened before I can see it—like folding a piece of paper. But like origami, with lots of subtle creases to get you to the right place. And the paper's never that big anyway. This time it was like we ripped it. Though maybe that was the explosions too. But to try and reach Earth the plican had stretched space so far it was really spread out anyway. It was like it couldn't take our weight and we just fell through it.” Johnny didn't think that sounded good, and Clara didn't look her normal happy self after she'd just folded. “We were definitely heading in the right direction though,” she continued, hopefully. “Maybe we made it.”

“Ouch,” said another female voice. “That hurts.”

“Sorry,” said Johnny. “Are you OK, Sol?”

“Not if you keep shorting my neurons like that,” said the ship. “Please stop—I'm awake now. What happened?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Johnny replied. “Do you know where we are?” He got out of the chair and walked forward to the main viewscreen. Clara followed.

“In the middle of an asteroid field, I would suggest,” said Sol. “Let's see now. Computing … one stellar mass found … eight planetary masses found … displaying sixth planet.” Johnny and Clara watched as a faraway dot on the screen grew in size to reveal a blurry ringed world. Johnny was pretty sure it was Saturn.

“Oh that is impressive,” said Alf, stepping back into the bridge and walking over to join them. “The Emperor told me it was beautiful. Of course I cannot make such subjective observations, but it is rather grand.”

“Looks like we made it,” said Johnny. “Sol—why is it blurred?”

“I have suffered severe damage, Johnny,” said the ship. “Visual sensors are at 0.000 271 828%.”

“Can you plot a course for Earth … Sol Three?”

“We are on course for the third planet, Johnny,” said the ship. “However, the dark energy containment field has collapsed so main engines are offline. Only secondary thrusters are undamaged. With our current momentum we will reach Earth in approximately three days' time.”

“Three days!” said Johnny and Clara together.

“I suggest,” replied Sol calmly, “you make yourselves comfortable. Most systems will be operational by the time we arrive. At least we won't crash.”

“Well that's a relief,” said Johnny.

“Or I don't think so, anyway,” Sol continued. “None of these asteroids seems to be moving toward us …”

Johnny and Alf were in the sickbay with the Chancellor, who had finally woken up and seemed even less amused than normal, though perhaps because it lay with its head and feet both extending beyond the ends of its bed. “Put a child in charge of a spaceship and no wonder this happens,” said Gronack, as Alf updated it with their current position.

“I am here,” said Johnny tersely. “I can hear you, you know. We were under attack.”

“Then clearly we should have followed standard diplomatic protocol,” replied the Chancellor.

“And what's that exactly?” said Johnny, hotly.

“I inform our assailants that an important personage is on board and surrender the ship, of course,” said the Chancellor. “I would be returned to Melania in due course.”

“She's not yours to surrender,” said Johnny through gritted teeth.

“Well she is now,” replied Gronack. “The Emperor's not here to indulge you. I am not placing my life in the hands of some infant savage simply because of Khari's erratic judgment.
What is this thing called anyway? I take it she has a name?”

“The ship is the Spirit of London,” said Alf, “and she is Johnny's ship, you know.” Alf was looking down at the floor rather than at the horizontal Chancellor.

“You cannot be serious,” said Gronack. “At least
you
should have enough of a brain to understand I must take charge. Look at the damage this thing has done already. We're lucky to be alive,” it said, looking at Alf, “though that's a rather relative term.”

“For a diplomat, Sir,” replied Alf, “you can be extremely undiplomatic. By Imperial Decree I have been declared wholly sentient and accorded full rights as a Citizen of Melania.”

“Another pet project from our senile Emperor,” replied Gronack.

“If I may interrupt,” came a female voice from above their heads.

“What is it, Sol?” said Johnny.

“Ship!” said the Chancellor, finally sitting up. “I am assuming command of this vessel. From now on you will deal directly only with myself.”

“Forgive me, Chancellor Gronack,” Sol replied. “If the phasmeers were the last species in the galaxy, and you were the very last of the phasmeers, there would still be less chance of me taking orders from you than a Sulafat tortoise winning the Imperial Speed Medal.” Alf was so embarrassed he had to leave the sickbay and go and stand in the corridor. Johnny grinned—he hadn't actually heard of a Sulafat tortoise before but it certainly didn't sound quick. Perhaps he'd look it up when he had a spare moment. “Johnny,” Sol continued. “I have some bad news. Please come to the bridge.”

“Bad news?” squeaked Chancellor Gronack. “It's not possible things can get any worse.”

“What's wrong?” Johnny asked.

“There's something here you must see,” said Sol. “It concerns Earth.”

“On my way,” said Johnny. “If it's about Earth can you let Clara know? She should see it too.”

“She is in the library. I shall inform her,” Sol replied.

Johnny left the sickbay followed by Chancellor Gronack and they collected Alf in the corridor—he seemed to have composed himself. At least it sounded as though Sol had fixed the scanners. It would be good to see Earth, he thought. Maybe some krun ships were visible. He'd not told Sol about those being there and he knew now he should have done. He stepped into the lift shaft without waiting for the other two and said, “Bridge.” Seconds later he stepped out at the top of the ship and stared at the image on the screen. Whatever it was, it wasn't Earth. “What is it, Sol?” he asked.

“This is an asteroid, Johnny,” Sol replied. “It's large … about 50 kilometers across.”

“So?” Johnny asked.

“It's on a collision course, Johnny. It will hit in about 52.694 134 hours' time.”

“But you said we had reserve tanks,” said Johnny. “Why don't we just move out of the way?”

“I didn't make myself clear,” Sol replied. “The collision course is not with us. It's with Earth.” Johnny felt the blood draining from his face and sat down in his captain's chair while the ship continued to speak. “Our fold was highly irregular. On our return to normal space we created an enormous blast wave in the direction of travel … toward the third planet. The debris we witnessed around us was just the initial wavefront. The main effect of the blast was to divert this asteroid in our direction.”

“What will happen?” Johnny asked weakly, as Clara entered the bridge behind him.

“Asteroid impact is well-known throughout the galaxy,” said Sol. “There are many levels of damage. In this case, given the
relative size of the two bodies, the asteroid would be classed a global killer.”

“A global what?” asked Clara.

“A global killer,” Sol repeated. “In 52.672 918 hours' time, all life on Earth will be destroyed.”

Johnny, Clara, Alf and Chancellor Gronack were standing on the mezzanine platform of an enormous room on deck 14. Sol had recommended it as the place to think over strategic issues. Alf had excelled himself in the galley in a desperate attempt to cheer Johnny and Clara up, making fish and chips with mushy peas which he knew was one of Johnny's favorites. The untouched ketchup-spattered plates were now floating on a little table behind them. Like all the tables on the ship, this one's surface was a near-invisible electromagnetic force field that sparked occasionally, if only to remind you where it was located. Johnny wasn't hungry—eating just made him feel worse. He looked beneath him to a much larger circular table onto which Sol had projected a diagram showing the Earth, the Spirit of London and the giant asteroid following them. The collision course was also clearly marked. He'd had a spaceship for a couple of days and in that time it looked as though he'd wiped out all life on Earth. It was all his fault. If he'd paid more attention in his lessons he'd have known not to fold so far. Clara knew—she'd tried to stop him—but it had been too late. He'd hoped a good night's sleep would have cleared his head so he could think of a plan, but everything he came up with was reluctantly dismissed by Sol. Her weapons were inoperable and would take too long to repair, so they couldn't simply blow the asteroid out of the sky. The asteroid was too big for the plican to fold it onto
another path, not that the poor creature had recovered from their last enormous fold yet anyway. They couldn't even sacrifice themselves by putting the Spirit of London in the way to deflect the asteroid—the ship didn't have enough momentum for that. A part of Johnny still felt like doing it anyway.

“There's nothing for it,” he said, as much to himself as the others round the table. “I know the Emperor didn't want us to contact Earth but we have to warn them. Maybe they can stop it from there—or at least save a few people?”

“You will do no such thing,” said Chancellor Gronack. “That would be a gross breach of diplomatic protocol.”

“A what?” said Clara.