Tag: Fiction

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 44

Back on the alien vessel

…

I was surprised the alien captain was not getting impatient with the way this matter was dragging on. 

If this was back on earth and we were dealing with an alien incursion, there would be a lot of shooting by short-tempered small-minded fools who only knew one way of dealing with seemingly insurmountable problems.

In that regard, these aliens were better than us, and I had to wonder if they were dealing with this problem in a manner we would understand, and if that was the case, what would have happened if my ship had not made a timely, or untimely, arrival.

It also begged the question of how either of us could move forward from this point, because the only logical outcome was to hand back the criminals.

I wonder what Nancy was thinking, the fate of diplomatic relations, if they were possible after this, in her hands.

There was also a question of what the Russian captain had been promised in return for trying to save them.  It would have to be significant for him to put his vessel and its crew on the line.

I looked at the Russian Captain, not looking very comfortable, on the end of a weapon he clearly knew could kill him, or worse.

“What did they promise you?”

His mouth moved, an indication to me he was going to say they didn’t, which to me meant that it was not something he wanted to talk about in front of the Aliens.

The alien answered for him.  “Technology, perhaps our secret weapons, the criminals are all people who have worked with or worked on some of our most secret projects.”

Which begged the question, what did they do wrong that they were labelled criminals.

Perhaps the alien could read my mind because he added, “and who had used that technology illegally, or tried to sell it to our enemies.”

So, a new piece of information; the alien has enemies.  It raised another question, what if we had met their enemies first?

“Sir.”  Number one had come back online, hopefully from the location if the so-called criminals.

“What the situation?”

“I’ve spoken to a chap named Midava, who seems to be the spokesperson for a group of seven I can see.  Firstly, they are different from the captain of the vessel you are currently on.  He tells me, and several of his colleagues are from a different world, as are others, who were recruited to work on advanced technology.  It seems their home planets are far more advanced than the captains.”

“OK.  Just hold it there for a minute.”  I looked over at the Captain.  His expression hadn’t changed, but he had been listening intently.

“Would you like to explain your planets existence among what it seems to me, a galaxy of other civilisations.”

“We are just part of a much larger galaxy, yes, though I would question our level of development in their eyes “

“So, these so-called criminals are from different worlds?”

“We do not discriminate, as some others do.”

There was no acrimony or anger in his tone.  He was relating information, and answers to my questions, from their perspective.  I realized that I could not judge these people in the same terms as I would one of my own people, and that was going to be the hardest problem we were going to have in dealing big with new people

Quite simply, they were not us.

And, equally, we had no right to judge them according to our rules.

“Sir.”  Number one again. 

“Yes?”

“Midava tells me they are being held against their will simply because they want to go home.  Apparently, their hosts do not want their homelands to know their level of technology improvement.  I think you can understand the implication.”

I could.  “Thank you, number one.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective,” the alien captain said.  “Other worlds, like other countries on your planet, group together in what you call blocs.  They are more technologically advanced, so they deigned to ignore us, and it has taken a long time for us to become as advanced.  Those people came to us and said they wanted to help us, without the knowledge of their leaders, because it was unjust.  We willingly accepted it and for years the association was mutually beneficial, they got the recognition they would not get on their homeworlds, and we got the technology.  This ship is one of the benefits, along with its weapons.  When they wanted to go home, their work, they said, was done, and they wanted to see their families, the high council decided against it, for security reasons, and when they tried to escape, they were detained.  You would call it political expediency.”

“But in an enlightened and just society such as yours, don’t you think that is wrong to deny them.  I suspect as you might give a bit more thought to the matter, that telling their homeworlds what they’d done would most like condemn them to death, so I’m sure telling anyone anything about their time with you was the last thing on their minds.  It’s food for thought.  However, since is not my objective to interfere in your sovereign right to dispense justice in accordance with your laws, I will have the prisoners returned to you.”

“You can’t do that,” the Russian captain said.

“I can, and you will.  There are far larger implications in play and if necessary, I will enforce our laws upon you, which will, if the Captain desires, hand you over as well.  I suggest, to avoid trouble you give the necessary orders to your crew forthwith.”

To the alien captain, “I expected as a courtesy that you, myself, and the leader of these so-called criminals sit down and have a discussion about their options.”

“I will need to deal with the high council.”

“Then do so now, before we make any arrangements.  And release my fellow captain.  Using force will not give what you want, and sets a bad precedent if you seek to have any sort of relationship with us.”

A nod from the alien captain to his subordinate, and she let him go, and it was hard to tell if she was upset or not.

Both then disappeared, leaving us alone on an empty bridge, if that was what it was.

“You do realize what will happen to them when he gets them back,” the Russian captain said.

“That’s not our problem.  If our roles were reversed, would you want them to weigh in on our affairs?”

“That’s not the point “

“That is the point.  Were not here to tell others what to do but to hopefully forge new relations with people who have the means to help us find a place in a new galaxy.  We’re here to learn and share if that’s what it takes.”

“And if they are the devil instead?”

“I’m sure you will be very well placed to discern whether they are or not, based on your own actions.”

He didn’t seem annoyed at the inference, which to me showed a marked disregard for anyone but themselves, underlying the people who had put him aboard his ship and what their purpose in getting out into the galaxy first was.

The cold war back on earth had just moved out in the galaxy, and if not now, they would eventually be a threat, not only to ourselves but anyone they came across in their travels.

“You’re making a mistake, once they get what they want they will dispense with us.”

It was a possibility, but the problem for the alien people was, we were here, now, and if he did destroy us, they had to know we knew about them and more of our ships would arrive in time, and they would be hostile, especially if we didn’t report back.  And if they had been observing life on earth they’d know we would seek retribution

Perhaps that was the reason why he didn’t destroy us in the first instance.

“How long do you think they will be?”  Nancy had found her voice, finally.

I’d almost forgotten she was there.

“How long do you think it would take to talk to a high council?  If it’s anything like back home, it could take forever.  Any ideas on how, if you get the chance, you’re going to approach setting up diplomatic relations?”

“None whatsoever, sir.”

“Good, a clean slate.  Start thinking about it.”

She looked around.  “You’d think there’d be a chair to at least sit down.”

A second later three chairs appeared.

“You only had to ask!”

…

© Charles Heath 2021-2022

In a word: Might

We might have to use some might to beat the mite.  Confused?

Might is force, so expending might is much the same as what Thor does with his hammer.

We might expend some force, we this might is a maybe.  You’re never quite sure when someone uses the word might, whether or not they will actually do it.

I might do a lot of things, but somehow I never seem to get around to actually doing them,

Of and just for the record, it’s the past tense of the word may.  You know, you may do something, or you might not.

You might also use the word might when being polite, which seems to be a rarity these days because everyone is terse, tense, and it a hurry.

So might I go to the movie will aways get a resounding no if it means you get home late at night.   And you’re only 10 years old.

I might be interested, but I don’t think so.  Let me think about it.  Which also means no.

Of course, if you’re slack in doing homework, you might want to try a little harder next time.

What might have been if only you tried harder?

Then there’s that little pest called a mite, though it goes by a lot of other names, one of which is everywhere, a termite.

Or a dust mite.

It also could be used slangily for a child in distress, that is, look at that poor little mite, he looks so tired.

Or another word for slightly, for example, the girl seemed a mite embarrassed.

 

 

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 35

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Chasing leads, maybe

 

She gave me a minute to think about the situation, and then said what I was thinking, “So he could be anywhere?”

“He was dead.  I felt for a pulse.  There wasn’t one.”

I could interpret that expression on her face, ‘you’re not a doctor’.

She turned another page, read a few lines, then made a note at the bottom.

It read, if my deciphering was up to scratch, ‘doesn’t know if subject dead or not’.

She looked up again.  “It appears these documents are out there,” she waved her hand in the air, “somewhere.  Fortunately, they have not turned up, not has someone tried to sell them back or to the newspapers, so we’re lucky.  So far.  That isn’t going to last for much longer.  Every extra day out there is another chance for the government to be embarrassed.”

“You know what the contents are?”

“Don’t be silly.  That’s above my pay grade, and besides, you and I are better off not knowing.  So, what you need to do is find O’Connell and/or find the documents on this USB drive.”

She slid a card across the table.  It had a name and a telephone number.  Monica Sherive.  A mobile number, a burner no doubt that couldn’t be traced back to her.

“You find either, you tell me first.”

“Nobbin?”

“Second, and when I tell you.”

“So you don’t trust him either?”

“At the moment, for both you and I have to be careful who we trust.”

I added her to the list of people I couldn’t trust, not that she had told me I could trust her.  Yet.

“And if I get contacted by Severin again?”

“Have you?”

I had thought about not telling her about that brief meeting where he told me about the USB drive, but it couldn’t do any harm.  At least she hadn’t asked me if I knew about the USB, which was something, I suppose.

“Yes.  Once.  Told me to keep my head down.  And asked me if O’Connell had time to talk to me.  It was the same answer I gave him back in the alley.  No.  I’d just managed to corner him when he was shot.”

“By Severin, or this other fellow,” she shuffled back several pages, then said, “Maury?”

“No.  That was what was odd about it.  The shot came from somewhere else.  A sniper I would have thought.”

And, my brain suddenly moving into overdrive, piecing together what might be a coincidence, but in our business, they were rarely coincidences.  A sniper shot him., say Nobbin or one of his people, he looks dead, waits for a call to the cleaners, intercepts it, and collects the so-called dead O’Connell.  It was a good conspiracy theory.

And as far-fetched as one.

Severin had to have the body somewhere, trying to figure out how to bring O’Connell back to life so he could torture the USB location out of him.

Hell, that was as twisted as the conspiracy theory.

Time to change the subject.  “Do you have any idea who Severin and Maury are?”

She went to the back of the file and pulled out some photographs, mug shots perhaps of staff members.  She put five faces in front of me and asked me if the two were there.

They were.  The first, with the name of David Westcott, and the fourth with the name of Bernie Salvin.

“Who are they?”

“They used to work in the training department for ten or so years ago.  Westcott was also a handler for several years.  They both requested a transfer to operations, and we give a mission.  Six agents were assigned, and all six were killed, an investigation after the fact found that their identities had been leaked to the enemy before they reached the target.”

“They gave them up?”

“Nobody knows for sure.  There were others in that group, but in the end, the department retired them all.  All their years in training served them well.  We found the place where you were trained.”

Another photograph of the main building.  I nodded.

“It was an old training facility closed down five years ago.  It was just sitting there waiting for an enterprising crew.  It won’t happen again.  Needless to say, we haven’t been able to find either of them, only the people they employed, who believed it was in good faith.  A mess in other words.  Now, go.  Find me answers.”

She stood.  The meeting was over.

© Charles Heath 2020

Short Story writing – don’t try this at home! – Part 7

Putting it all together: the short story

…

I had once said that Grand Central Station, in New York, was large enough you could get lost in it.  Especially if you were from out of town.

I know, I was from out of town, and though I didn’t quite get lost, back then I had to ask directions to go where I needed to.

It was also an awe-inspiring place, and whenever I had a spare moment, usually at lunchtime, I would go there and just soak in the atmosphere. It was large enough to make a list of places to visit, or find, or get a photograph from some of the more obscure places.

Today, I was just there to work off a temper. Things had gone badly at work, and even though I hadn’t done anything wrong, I still felt bad about it.

I came in the 42nd street entrance and went up to the balcony that overlooked the main concourse. A steady stream of people was coming and going, most purposefully, a few were loitering, and several police officers were attempting to move on a vagrant. It was not the first time.

But one person caught my eye, a young woman who had made a circuit of the hall, looked at nearly every destination board, and appeared to be confused. It was the same as I had felt when I first arrived.

Perhaps I could help.

The problem was, a man approaching a woman from out of left field would have a very creepy vibe to it, so it was probably best left alone.

After another half-hour of watching the world go by, I had finally got past the bad mood and headed back to work. I did a wide sweep of the main concourse, perhaps more for the exercise than anything else, and had reached the clock in the center of the concourse when someone turned suddenly, and I crashed into them.

Not badly, like ending up on the floor, but enough for a minor jolt. Of course, it was my fault because I was in another world at that particular moment.

“Oh, I am sorry.” A woman’s voice, very apologetic.

I was momentarily annoyed, then, when I saw who it was, it passed. It was the lost woman I’d seen earlier.

“No. Not your fault, but mine entirely. I have a habit of wandering around with my mind elsewhere.”

Was it fate that we should meet like this?

I noticed she was looking around, much the same as she had before.

“Can I help you?”

“Perhaps you can. There’s supposed to be a bar that dates back to the prohibition era here somewhere. Campbell’s Apartment, or something like that. I was going to ask…”

“Sure. It’s not that hard to find if you know where it is. I’ll take you.”

It made for a good story, especially when I related it to the grandchildren, because the punch line was, “and that’s how I met your grandmother.”

…

© Charles Heath 2022

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 43

Back on the alien vessel

…

The ‘ooh’ from Nancy was unmistakable the moment we rematerialized in the alien’s ship’s bridge.  It could be one of those awe-inspiring moments, had it not been for the circumstances.

The second time on the bridge, I realized that it was a little more sparse than it had been before, with a wall of control panels missing, along with a panel that stretched across the front of the Captain’s chair, but with no crew members present.

It was now a blank space.  The whole space could have been a large empty room with windows overlooking empty space, except in the distance, our two ships.  Beyond that, there seemed to be a thin streak of light, or colored lights, flickering.  At a guess they might be a long, long, long way away, but whether it was in the direction we had come, or where we were going, or somewhere else, I couldn’t tell.

On the other side of the bridge, the female alien was still holding the Russian Captain, some sort of weapon at his throat.

I was still feeling the tingling sensation that was the effect after re-materialization.  The first time it was disorientating, I was prepared this time.

I was also not sure what to expect, now that it was clear the aliens were not what they portrayed themselves to be.  Of course, it was naive of me to expect that others in the galaxy would be better than us.

“An explanation of what this is really about might go a long way towards preventing tragic consequences.”  I thought I’d throw out the opening gambit.

“Agreed.  I had hoped the problem could have been resolved before your arrival.  As you might be aware, we have the ability to transport our people, and I had hoped to recover the missing citizens that were taken by this,” he pointed to the Russian, “captains ship.”

“They asked for asylum, we did not take them.”

Another piece of the puzzle, the female must be one of the Aliens crew, and had beamed aboard, taken the captain hostage, and demanded the release of the citizens.

Question: why hadn’t he simply beamed them back?

To the Alien, “Is this true?”

“Semantics “

Note:  this alien had a very good grasp of the nuances of the English language.

“Semantics or not, if you know anything about earth culture, it’s that we look after those who need help, and if people come to us asking for asylum, we generally give it.  You will also be aware that those who ask for asylum generally are in fear of their lives.  The question is, why would these people ask for asylum.”

“The people aboard that ship are criminals who were serving their sentences in one of our remote facilities.  Your captain apparently came across this remote facility and assisted in setting the criminals free.  When we sent a ship to apprehend them, they were taken aboard the earth ship and it attempted to leave.  We were going to stop the earth vessel from leaving when your ship appeared, and it seemed prudent not to display hostility.  There was also the possibility you were working together.”

“We are not, as you are now aware.  Nor would I be willing to interfere with your internal matters, except that it involves another of our ships, one I didn’t know about, which only complicates matters.

Why do you have the captain.”

“He refused to set the prisoners.”

“If you could beam your operative and the captain here, why not just beam the criminals too.”

“They are currently protected in a special part of the captain’s ship that does not allow us to bring them back.  They obviously told him what our capabilities are.”

Criminals, if they were criminals, seeking asylum.  If it was me, I would be happy for someone else to take away the criminal element and make it someone else’s problem.  The unfortunate truth in our world is that criminals didn’t go to jail anymore, they were shipped off to remote mining planets where they spent the rest of their days working in very harsh conditions.  Over time it had proved to be a very good deterrent, so much so, that off plant mining operations now had to pay large sums of money to get people to work there.

“Number One.”

“Sir?”

“Find the so-called criminals the captain has stowed on his vessel and ask them what their side of the story is.  Quick as you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

I looked over to the Russian Captain.  “You might want to tell your second in command to make things easier for my crew.”

A look from me to the alien, and back, time to consider my request, then gave the order.

“On my way, sir.”

…

© Charles Heath 2021-2022

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 34

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Chasing leads, maybe

…

She had brought a file.  It looked the same as the last one she brought with her, the one with my name on it.

This time it was thicker.

Intelligence gathering at its finest.  There’d be stuff in there that even I didn’t know about me.

She didn’t open it, just looked at me.

“What have you been doing?”

“Working?”

“For whom?”

“Nobbin, of course.  I am now assigned to his section.  Did you do that?”

“He did.  He tells me you’re working on the O’Connell investigation.”

“Is that what it’s called.  He never told me that.  And I had to find out where I’d been assigned by logging onto a computer.  An email or a letter would have made my life a little easier.”

“You’re just lucky you’re still working here.  Now, tell me more about this Severin character.”

“I told you everything I knew the last time you spoke to me.  Apparently, you seemed to know who it was.  Perhaps you might tell me, too.”

“It’s…”

“And,” I interrupted, “don’t tell me it’s above my pay grade.  I was potentially working for traitors and could have finished up in jail for treason.”

“You might still get there.”

Then why hadn’t she had me arrested and thrown in a dungeon the last time we met?  There was an easy answer to that question.  She needed me out in the field.  Nobbin needed me in the field.  They presumably needed me to remain available to Severin for whatever reason.

“What do you want?”

She opened the file, turned a few pages, and stopped at a yellow sheet of paper.  I wasn’t able to read it upside down, but it had very small spidery writing on it.

Then she looked at me again.

“Some secret documents appear to have gone missing.  We believe that is to say Director Dobbin thinks these may have been on a USB drive that was in the possession of O’Connell at the time of his death.  You were there at the time of his death.  You can see where this is going…”

No matter which answers I gave it was the wrong one, which led to do not pass go and do not collect two hundred dollars, or pounds as the case may be.

“I haven’t got it, and he didn’t tell me where it was, and I saw him die.”

“If you say so.”  She went back to the file and turned some more pagers.

“What do you mean?”

She looked up.  “So far, there’s no body been recovered, or any evidence there was a shooting where you said it was.”

“Are you trying to tell me he’s alive, because if you are, then I must be a very poor judge of people who have no pulse.  He was not about to get up and walk away.”

“Did you see the body removed?”

Now there’s an interesting point.  I had done as I was told and left when told to.  I assumed Severin would sort the problem out, in fact, hadn’t he called in the cleaners?  I saw a white van.

Actually, when I thought about it, I had no idea what happened after I left.  And, now that I remember, I didn’t see anyone get out of the white van.

Could bodies get up and walk?

I was beginning to think they could.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

After a few days to consider the existing text – a new approach? – Part 1

It’s been a while since I looked at this story, and after reading the start through each iteration, it always seems the case that I’m never quite satisfied.

That said, I decided to come at it from a different direction.  It might not be better, but it might provide a different perspective, and lead to a more polished start in the next iteration.

Certainly this time, there are more words, and a totally different start.  It was needed bcause we need to get a little insight into the main character, just before the action starts.

This iteration puts the main character squarely in the frame, gives a few small details about him, and context leading into the next part

…

I was woken abruptly from an uneasy sleep by an unusual sound coming from my cell phone.

It was late afternoon, and the night shift had extended into the morning after an incident that required a report, and a statement to the police.  As a security guard in a dormant factory in an abandoned industrial estate, this was the worst incident I’d been involved in since starting there, a deliberately lit fire, no doub to hide a body, and what looked like wholesale theft of a factory’s machinery, and the police had hinted it was an inside job.  As the new guy, I had been interrogated rather than questioned, and it had been rough, my past being dragged up, and not the good aspects of it.  I was very tired and still angry.

The phone was on the floor, just out of reach, and I was tempted to ignore it.  I might have, if it hadn’t made the same sound a minute later.

It was a simple phone, one that stored numbers, sent messages, and took photos.  I purposely didn’t get the internet connected, and disabled the GPS.   There were seven numbers stored on it, the only people I wanted to make contact with, or had to, and none had a unique message tone.

I pressed a button and the screen came to life.

Two notifications were displayed, two missed calls from Penelope Bryson.  Definitely not one of the seven stored numbers.  Penelope was my sister, and Bryson was her married name.  But the bigger question here was, how did she get my cell number?

She had also left a message, and I played it out loud.

“David, long time.  I am somewhat disappointed you didn’t tell me you were back, or for that matter, whether you were dead or alive.  You’re a hard man to find, for obvious reasons, but don’t be a stranger, at least not to me.  I need to see you for some advice and I will be in Wilmington next Monday.  Let me know where and when and I will be there.”

I rang the number but it went to message bank, and then I remembered she rarely answered the phone first time, waiting to see who it was, and then decided if she would call them back.  Perhaps it was a lawyer thing.

I tossed the phone back on the floor and lay down again.  I tried to put it out of my mind, but kept going back to the phrase ‘I need to see you for some advice’.  I was the last person a high flying lawyer would want advice, unless she wanted to become a soldier, or a get away driver, the only occupations I had since leaving school.  I doubted she was looking to become a secuirty guard, but she could hardly know that I was one.  I hadn’t spoken to her since our father died, just before I served my final tour.

Now I had two issues on my mind, whether the police would assume I was the guilty party so they could wrap up the case, even if I could prove it was not me, and what Penelope could possibly want, and it was odd that it was the latter that caused me the most concern.

…

© Charles Heath 2020-2022

The cinema of my dreams – I always wanted to see the planets – Episode 42

We seem to have a spot of bother

…

The next statement from Number One, “Sir, it seems we have a hostage situation.”

A glance back at the main screen showed the Russian ship’s bridge minus the captain and flickering on, the alien ship’s Captain.

“I didn’t open a channel, Sir,” the comms officer said quickly.

I glared at the alien representative for a few seconds, hoping to convey my displeasure, but I doubted it would have any effect.

Nor was it any surprise to discover that something indeed didn’t add up. 

Potentially we had a very bad situation, facing off an alien vessel with unknown capabilities and weapons, and a ship that was not supposed to exist, having reputedly committed unknown criminal activities.

“General, you might have to make an instant decision, so if the potential threat is life or ship threatening, don’t wait for confirmation.”

“Sir.”

“Code Red, and everyone, report anything no matter how trivial.”

“Number one, a hostage situation is only a hostage situation if the hostage-taker has a hostage.  You get a clear shot, shoot them.”

“There may potentially be casualties, sir.”

“Then at your discretion, but hold that thought until I have a word with our new, so-called, friends.”

“Sir.”

To say I was annoyed was an understatement, but I had to remember that our underlying mission was to make new friends, not enemies.

“Captain,” the alien commander decided now was the moment to speak.

“You have not been quite truthful with us, have you?”

“They did commit crimes, that is the truth.”

“Then why is one of your people holding the captain hostage?”

It only just struck me then that the alien vessel had beamed one of the people onto the Russian ship after the alien ship arrived with us.  But to what purpose?

“To force them to return to the planet where the crimes were committed.  I had no reason to believe you would force the issue.  Our experience with humans is they support each other before they do the right thing.”

“Your experience is narrow-minded, generally supported by few instances, and basically does not define the human race.  Like everyone, we have a bad element, but it doesn’t define who or what we are.  You obviously heard my instructions to my boarding party.  Your turn now to give me a good reason why I should not shoot them?”

“I assume you still want to open diplomatic relations between our worlds?”

“Not at the expense of gunboat diplomacy.”

“I could destroy both your ships.”

“You could try.  If you know as much as you claim to know about humans, you’ll know that we are at our most formidable when our backs are to the wall.  My ship is an unknown quantity to you, which means you have no idea what we are capable of, but if you want yo find out, by all means, try.”

It was hard to keep an even tone when you are terrified.  Our first encounter had been nothing but threats and violence.  Was I no better than the worse of our kind?

Number one was back in my ear, “Sir, the alien and the Captain just disappeared.”

“I would like you to join us on my ship for discussions, Captain.  I’m sure this situation can be resolved amicably.”

“I’d like a skilled diplomatic negotiator with me, and not agreeing will be considered a hostile act.”

Just in case he was intending to beam me aboard his ship.  A nod in the General’s direction showed he knew what to do if the alien tried.

“Send a message to our diplomatic representative to cone to the bridge urgently.”

I preferred this to be done privately so as not to alert the crew.

I had read the file on Margaret Simpson, and it was, to say the least, extraordinary.  Her achievements at getting the most disparate parties to the table spoke for itself, and it surprised me that she would go on what could prospectively be a one-way trip.

I had not yet spoken to her since boarding, but it had been on my list before we ran into an alien species.  Now, that introduction was lost.

She looked exactly as I’d expected, just in the prime of middle age, diminutive, but not overly imposing, but distinctive enough to stop and look when she walked into a room.

“Captain, I can’t say what comes next doesn’t excite me.”

“You got a brief description of events?”

“An alien race, hostile or not, is exactly why I came.”

“Things could go pear-shaped very quickly.”

“You are exactly as described Captain, refreshingly honest, but somehow I don’t think I need to worry too much if you’re coming with me.”

“A perk of the job, I’m afraid.”

I looked at the alien captain on screen.

“Ready.”

…

© Charles Heath 2021-2022

The cinema of my dreams – Was it just another surveillance job – Episode 33

I’m back home and this story has been sitting on a back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written.

The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I’m not very good at prioritizing.

But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn’t take long to get back into the groove.

Chasing leads, maybe

 

Monica, from the last interrogation, had brought a file.  It looked the same as the last one she brought with her, the one with my name on it.

This time it was thicker.

Intelligence gathering at its finest.  There’d be stuff in there that even I didn’t know about me.

She didn’t open it, just looked at me.

“What have you been doing?”

“Working?”

“For whom?”

“Nobbin, of course.  I am now assigned to his section.  Did you do that?”

“He did.  He tells me you’re working on the O’Connell investigation.”

“Is that what it’s called.  He never told me that.  And I had to find out where I’d been assigned by logging onto a computer.  An email or letter would have made my life a little easier.”

“You’re just lucky you’re still working here.  Now, tell me more about this Severin character.”

“I told you everything I knew the last time you spoke to me.  Apparently, you seemed to know who it was.  Perhaps you might tell me, too.”

“It’s…”

“And,” I interrupted, “don’t tell me it’s above my pay grade.  I was potentially working for traitors and could have finished up in jail for treason.”

“You might still get there.”

Then why hadn’t she had me arrested and thrown in a dungeon the last time we met?  There was an easy answer to that question.  She needed me out in the field.  Nobbin needed me in the field.  They presumably needed me to remain available to Severin for whatever reason.

“What do you want?”

She opened the file, turned a few pages, and stopped at a yellow sheet of paper.  I wasn’t able to read it upside down, but it had very small spidery writing on it.

Then she looked at me again.

“Some secret documents appear to have gone missing.  We believe that is to say Director Dobbin thinks these may have been on a USB drive that was in the possession of O’Connell at the time of his death.  You were there at the time of his death.  You can see where this is going…”

No matter which answers I gave it was the wrong one, which led to do not pass go and do not collect two hundred dollars, or pounds as the case may be.

“I haven’t got it, and he didn’t tell me where it was, and I saw him die.”

“If you say so.”  She went back to the file and turned some more pagers.

“What do you mean?”

She looked up.  “So far, there’s no body been recovered, or any evidence there was a shooting where you said it was.”

“Are you trying to tell me he’s alive, because if you are, then I must be a very poor judge of people who have no pulse.  He was not about to get up and walk away.”

“Did you see the body removed?”

Now there’s an interesting point.  I had done as I was told and left when told to.  I assumed Severin would sort the problem out, in fact, hadn’t he called in the cleaners?  I saw a white van.

Actually, when I thought about it, I had no idea what happened after I left.  And, now that I remember, I didn’t see anyone get out of the white van.

Could bodies get up and walk?

I was beginning to think they could.

© Charles Heath 2020

You learn something new every day (2)

I got a call this morning from my brother who has been delving into the places we have lived over the years, including those before we were born.

My recollection, hazy at best, is that my father’s parents lived in Camberwell, a suburb of Melbourne, and the boys, those that survived the war, lived there too. He had three brothers, I think, and a sister. From what I’ve read, his older brother was a sensible chap and the peacemaker between him and his parents.

Later one of his brothers went to Sydney, his sister lived among orchards our Ringwood way, and another, much later, moved to Queensland. We very rarely, if ever, saw them, and the last time I did with most in one place, was after my Grandmother died. I do remember Dora, the site, visiting us once, and being young at the time, she seemed a very forbidding woman.

But, this is about where they lived.

My father, presumably before and immediately after the war, at home, and my mother at her home in Pakenham. There her father ran a service station and motor mechanic shop and was well known. Their house, at the time, was built over the road, just a short walk from home to work. The place, the first time I saw it, was a mechanics dream, with old cars and car parts outside and inside garages, and a woodworking shop with every tool imaginable.

Once the place had very elegant gardens, but by the time I got to stay there, in the 1960s, it was all overgrown, and the house was in disrepair. My mother’s brother lived there with my grandmother, and he was a fearsome, huge man who said little. All I knew about him was that, a) he was the one who found his father after he had killed himself, b) he liked fishing and went to a place called Corinella, and c) he was a mechanic like his father.

So, at some point in 1948, my father must have up and left, perhaps after an argument with his parents, and moved to Keiwa House, Bogong, where the Snowy River Hydro-Electric Scheme was being built, as a projectionist, bringing films to the workers in Town Halls.

As I’ve said, my mother stayed in a boarding house for ladies during the week and went home on weekends. I have the first letter that my father wrote to her and references the fact he went calling on her, and she was not there. We’ll never know what she thought, but there’s a second letter, after she wrote back, so a friendship was struck. He told her, almost in minute detail, what he was doing, and presumably, she told him about hers.

A year later, they married.

Now it gets interesting. We both thought that their first house, after getting married was in Carrum. It wasn’t. In the pile of letters were references to the family staying in a rented flat in Camberwell.

Sometime after that, there is a contract for a war service loan in relation to a property in Carrum, which turns out to be the first house they lived in, and where my brother, born in 1950) lived, and where I lived after I was born in 1953. I have interesting if vague memories of this house, and of the people who lived behind us because we could climb through the fence into their property. We knew them during, and after living in Carrum.

Now, today, some interesting new facts came to light about the Carrum house. We always assumed we owned it, but it seems that we didn’t. A copy of the title for that property never had the name Heath on it, so did we rent it? More information is required, and we need to dig deeper. Let’s hope there are no skeletons there.

And something else came out of a discussion with the daughter of my mothers sister, that it was believed my mother’s parents bought them a house in Chelsea, but my father, apparently, refused to live in it and sold it.

OK, I never claimed that my father was the sort that might have accepted charity, so perhaps in a moment of madness, he lost the plot. The question is, what happened to the money?
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