Fans of Jane Palmer’s ‘The Planet Dweller’ will be happy to hear that the sequel to ‘Moving Moosevan’ takes the same sardonic view of human nature and science fiction clichés as the first book. This is the sort of book for which the term ‘wacky’ might have been invented; it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but it has an endearing, oddball charm…
Lisa Tuttle Time Out

Anyone who has not read Jane Palmer’s fist bock THE PLANET DWELLER is likely to find the plot of its sequel, MOVING MOOSEVAN, somewhat confusing, but this hardly matters as most of the characters in this light-hearted comic novel are in a permanent state of confusion.
Our heroine Diana, having survived the menopause and saved the Earth in the previous novel, now has to deal with Kulp, a particularly obnoxious alien, and an army of androids intent on planetary conquest. Meanwhile, Moosevan, the Planet Dweller, an intelligent and amorous entity currently living inside planet Earth, embarks upon a programme of home improvements - such as moving the British Isles to warmer climes. Fortunately for Diana help is at hand in the various forms assumed by two intergalactic super-intelligences.
This is not a novel that demands to be taken at all seriously although it does provide a pleasant enough light read. Jane Palmer has created some amiable quirky characters that the reader simply cannot dislike, and their incongruous adventures do succeed in raising a smile…
Lynne Bispham Paperback Inferno

Moving Moosevan, on the other hand, is a lighthearted sequel to The Planet Dweller. It climbs aboard the green bandwagon with its anti-pollution wish-fulfilment- It is a very fast and rather gimmicky sf, full of throwaway comments on Thatcher’s Britain. The plot contains aliens, androids, terraforming, planets changing orbit - everything but the kitchen sink really. There are some nice concepts, such as when the planet dweller decides to move the UK and Ireland a few degrees further south…
Barbara Davies Vector

First published in Great Britain
by The Women’s Press 1990

This edition by Dodo Books 2009

Copyright © Jane Palmer 2009

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction and
any resemblance to persons living or dead is
purely coincidental.

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as
the author of this work.

ISBN 978-1-906442-20-0

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Other science fiction books by this author

THE PLANET DWELLER
NIGHTINGALE
THE ATON BIRD
THE KYBION
BABEL’S BASEMENT

Fiction

BALD WENDY

MOVING
MOOSEVAN

First published in 1990
by The Women’s Press

Jane Palmer

DODO BOOKS

The author would like to thank
Dr Andrea Prestwich for weeding
out any astronomical errors where they
weren’t intended. The more fantastic
passages are, quite probably,
pure fiction.

CHAPTER 1

Edna was not a cat lover and the fact that a huge long-haired moggie kept peering through her window did nothing to help her concentration. Eventually, she stopped trying to carve the hard exotic wood and glowered back at the animal. Edna’s spectacles magnified her stare which was already steely enough to stop a bull in mid-charge. Unable to compete, the cat ducked out of sight, only to bob up seconds later. This was too much for Edna who was not sweet natured at the best of times. The cat’s expression was so unnervingly benign it was like finding a friendly smile on the potato you were about to peel. To Edna, dogs were supposed to bark, canaries chirp, and cats purr. This creature looked as though it was capable of discussing existentialism and quantum mechanics.
Edna gave up and angrily drew the curtain.
    A little further along the terrace of cottages, Diana was having her weekly battle with the outflow pipe on her washing machine.
There was enough ash blonde in the single mother’s greying hair to suggest that not so long ago she had been young. Most unpleasant surprises to which she was due over her five decades had been concertina’d into a matter of days during that midsummer. This had left her with an ambivalent attitude about her years. Her eyebrows no longer needed to be plucked as they now arched in a way which suggested there was nothing left that could surprise her. Once she wouldn’t have stepped outside without first pointing up her face with foundation and powder; now she never bothered to renew a lipstick.
    As Diana paddled about with the mop and bucket, she gradually became aware she was being watched. Unlike Edna, she was prepared to believe that rabbits chased foxes and that dragons were nesting in her loft. There were days when it came as a pleasant surprise to find that the meadow hadn’t moved from the back of the cottages and the radio telescopes which overlooked the architectural museum hadn’t turned into mushrooms. Julia, her daughter, had fondly believed her mother to be over the menopause and found her inexplicable urge to check on such things a little disconcerting.
For several weeks one or two local people had the feeling that something cataclysmic had happened, yet were at a loss to know what it was. They sensed an unsettling charge in the air, as though lightning were about to strike them. It had started on the day Daphne Trotter, pillar of the local landed gentry, had been tossed from her horse. This would not have been odd in itself, but rumour had it that the road’s tarmac had pleated up in front of her steed. She had been compelled to spend several days prone and very puzzled. Nobody would admit to seeing the occurrence, of course, let alone to believing that such a thing was possible.
    Many people about the world were aware that the scenery had started to shift slightly here and there, but no one was going to be the first to admit to it. When mountains started to move and icebergs blocked the Straits of Gibraltar, that would be the time to panic.
The Highways Department thoroughly examined the road Daphne Trotter had complained about and couldn’t find so much as a dent in the tarmac. Feeling there was some conspiracy to discredit the prestige of her family, she ceased venturing out to intimidate the neighbourhood and sent her once-trusty steed to some despised relatives in Scotland in the hope it would drink a liver fluke or be ridden by the bagpiper at the perpetual ceremonies they held for the tourists.
    Julia came home from school and saw her mother in the kitchen, talking to a huge long-haired cat. The animal was replying in perfect English. It must have been an engrossing conversation because the floor was still awash with sudsy water and there was no tea waiting. Diana never noticed her daughter and the cat seemed happy to accept that she was no more harmful than the soapsuds still spouting from the washing machine.
Julia silently slipped out of the back garden and into the meadow. She darted up to the astronomer Yuri’s cottage, half hoping to find him tipsy enough to believe what she had just seen. He probably would have done if he hadn’t deserted the bottle weeks ago.
Below, children were playing with Daphne Trotter’s once ferocious bull as though it were a toothless puppy. It seemed happier with their company than with that of the prize winning herd of cows it had been bought at great expense to serve. If it was no longer sure what its horns were for, it had a total mental block about more vital parts of its anatomy.
    Yuri wasn’t in. The back door was open and a cold pot of tea sat on the table. He had probably made it and forgotten to pour himself a cup. Sobriety had not cured his absent-mindedness. Julia strolled back down the meadow and round to the front of the terrace. The first soap of the afternoon would be on TV in five minutes. She fumbled the front-door key from her purse and slunk into the front room without disturbing the flow of irrationality going on in the kitchen.

CHAPTER 2

Salisbury was a tall, lean, friendly looking man. He radiated mildness of nature. There was no student who couldn’t be won over by his suddenly disarming smile, even during the most contentious discussion. Some aspects of life may have been a puzzle to him, yet he never despised it because of them. He didn’t expect the Universe to do him any serious harm and was prepared to tolerate any fault in another as long as they could spell it. He was too kind and selfless to know how to duck the slings of a wicked world, and all his wounds were deep ones because he saw no point in burdening others with them.
    Unfortunately, the scholar’s obsession with words had driven his family mad. He had been easy-going enough to put up with virtually anything, yet all his charm and limp elegance stood for nothing when his two children spelt out what their mother was up to with a journalist from Leeds. That was some years ago; his children were now adult, though it often felt like yesterday. Even helping compile several specialist dictionaries never quite eased the shock, and the judge’s verdict that they ‘split’ the children catapulted the quiet scholar into coping with the teenage tantrums of an acne covered youth he doubted was his. It was an immense relief when the boy ran away to sea, probably to take up with pirates on the other side of the world.
    Now Salisbury walked the moors and dales whenever time allowed. Once past fifty, he could deal with life more easily. Time seemed to fall through his hands like warm snow; all the more so as his adult offspring seldom bothered to visit. Even the potential pirate had joined a holy order committed to saving the world instead. Salisbury now accepted his library and garden as his closest companions. Sometimes a student would take long rambles with him and marvel at his botanical knowledge as well as at how someone so amiable had lost touch with others.
    Slowly the scholar’s sense of security returned. Unfortunately, this would not last long. Somewhere in a cornfield, not too far from his bungalow, two lovers felt the Earth move - literally.

CHAPTER 3

‘So?’ demanded Diana as she tried to push the lake of soapy water out of the back door. ‘What am I supposed to do about it?’
The cat looked wide-eyed and enigmatic, its long whiskers quivering a little to show it was not as in control of the conversation as it would like to have been.
‘But there was no time to do anything else.’
‘You’re the inter-galactic super-intelligence - you can fix the mess yourself.’ It was at this point Diana noticed an amazed Edna gazing through the open window.
‘What on earth is going on?’
‘It’s not all to do with Earth,’ Diana explained weakly.
‘In actual fact,’ began the cat rather formally.
‘Shut up!’ snapped the woodcarver. ‘Cats can’t talk.’
‘Miaow,’ it sneered.
Edna flourished her gouge and knocked the bottle of washing-up liquid into the sink. ‘Don’t try and fob me off with some inane explanation. I’m a rationalist. I never wanted to be, but that’s what God made me.’
‘If you’re a rationalist, why do you believe in God?’ the cat asked.
‘I’m warning you!’ Edna wielded the gouge as though she had disembowelled much larger animals.
The cat retreated behind a hedge of whiskers.
Diana put down the mop to save the washing-up liquid from totally disappearing down the plughole. ‘You needn’t bother, Edna. You wouldn’t believe a word of it if we tried to tell you. If you did you’d only end up with a reputation for being as nutty as I am.’
‘I didn’t want to come along here.’
‘Why did you then?’
‘My nerves couldn’t stand the suspense of not knowing what that absurd cat was up to, and you know what my nerves are like when they’ve been set jangling.’
‘Wonder you manage to hold your chisel.’
‘Do you know how tricky it is to carve wenge?’
‘What’s wenge? Something to do with Stonehenge?’
‘Wood, you fool. It’s dark, with narrow stripes and hard as Daphne Trotter’s profile.’
‘Oh, haven’t you heard?’
‘Heard what?’
‘She’s going to have a face job. Won’t be able to open any more tins of pink salmon with it after that.’
Edna refused to be distracted. ‘I’d sooner be told what’s going on in here.’
‘Oh come inside. The children can hear you out there.’
‘They’re too busy playing with Daphne Trotter’s bull.’ Edna darted round to the back door. ‘And what happened to that animal was something to do with you, wasn’t it?’
Diana sighed. ‘Not totally.’
‘None of this should have happened of course-’ the cat tried to explain.
‘Shut up!’ snapped Edna. ‘I’m not going to talk to a cat!’
‘You should have seen what she was before,’ murmured Diana.
Edna never heard. Her foot skidded on the soapy floor and she slammed into the fridge. ‘If you must flood the kitchen every Friday, why not have a drain fitted in the middle of the floor?’
‘Given the sawdust and wood chippings which fill your house, you should be living next to a paper mill.’
‘I don’t talk to cats.’
‘After drinking the parsley wine you make, you should be seeing chartreuse hippos.’
Edna straightened her leather apron and perched on a stool with her feet clear of the floor. She folded her arms and looked like a badly carved oriental idol. ‘All right then. Just tell me enough so I can sleep or I’ll play Bert Kaempfert and keep everyone else awake as well.’
‘It has to be all or nothing. And if you keep everyone up all night there’ll be a brick through your window.’
Diana knew Edna listened to gossip when the mood took her, yet never dished any out, and few people were inclined to gossip about a woman who could wield sharp chisels as easily as butter knives. Her retired husband had long since ceased trying to understand her erratic moods and spent most of his time finding seasoned wood and taking her finished carvings to craft fairs. Living in their separate compartments, the relationship flourished in its odd way.
Diana made two coffees. She offered the cat a saucer of milk but it gave a sneer that could have curdled it. Edna also noticed that it didn’t have that comfortable feline shape which enabled others of its species to curl up so easily. This cat had corners like a low chest of drawers. If it had tried to roll in catnip it would have dented the garden.
‘You remember midsummer’s day?’ Diana suddenly asked.
Edna’s contemplation of the moggie was interrupted. ‘Not particularly. Most days seem much the same to me unless something happens.’
‘Well this was the day the world was due to end.’
‘You’ve put too much sugar in mine.’
‘I put in as much as you usually have.’
‘Oh,’ Edna sighed. ‘Go on then.’
‘But, by the oddest of flukes, it never happened.’
‘I had noticed. What stopped it?’
‘Well,’ Diana admitted modestly, ‘I rather think I did.’
‘Naturally. So what has Bagpuss got to do with all this?’
The cat’s inscrutability could have deflected a well-aimed flowerpot.
‘Well...’ Diana hesitated. ‘It would take too long to explain, but don’t believe all this guff you hear about Universal intelligences.’
‘I’m not into astral travelling or Star Trek myself. The sight of all those molecules being dispersed and accelerated light years makes my teeth rattle.’
‘That’s because you turn the television up too loud.’
‘All right then. How did you save the world?’
‘I was coming to that.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It took me a little while to believe it was all happening of course, but then, who’s ever ready to take the odd trip to another galaxy?’
‘Can I have some more milk?’
Diana slopped a generous measure into Edna’s mug.
‘Thanks.’
‘Of course, there were complications.’
‘Naturally.’
‘These two inter-galactic intelligences were trying to save this entity that lived in a planet.’
‘Don’t we all live on a planet? Can’t be much fun spending years in orbit. Think of all that bone loss.’
‘No, I mean inside the planet. It wore it like a shell.’
‘Now that is novel.’
‘They were preparing a new home for it in our solar system.’
‘Old place could do with a little more life.’
‘Problem was, part of its new home was a substantial slice of the Earth.’
‘Inconvenient.’
‘We would have been blasted to smithereens if they’d gone ahead.’
‘So?’
‘So they decided to leave the Earth as it was and...’
‘And?’
‘Let the planet-dweller live inside it.’
Edna furiously stirred the skin off her coffee. ‘Inside it?’
It was obvious Edna’s mind had slipped into that gear fitted to most human brains and was listening, talking, yet not taking in enough to agitate a single thought cell.
‘The Earth is inhabited by an intelligent entity capable of moving, rearranging or generally altering anything on or below the planet’s surface.’
Edna took a long swig of her coffee. ‘Think it could do something about the postal service?’
‘Probably not.’
Edna put her cup in the sink. ‘Let’s not get too excited about it then. Not as if the world’s coming to an end, is it?’
Diana was annoyed that her revelation hadn’t even met with contempt. She was past fifty and should have known that most human beings lived in a shell that could only be penetrated by propaganda and the threat of being deprived of some imaginary right. Diana might have managed to cast her preconceptions aside, but Edna clung to hers like a limpet.
So Diana decided to tell her about the Mott. She fortunately hadn’t encountered these genetically engineered aberrations from the other side of the Universe, yet knew that they would have given pause to Attila the Hun.
‘There were some nasty pieces of work in the other galaxy bent on colonisation. There wasn’t much left to conquer where they were so they “persuaded” this Olmuke engineer, called Kulp, to reopen the gravity corridor the planet dweller had escaped through.’
‘They are green I take it?’
‘Oh, the Olmuke are,’ said the cat.
‘I wasn’t asking you!’
Diana gave a pained smile. ‘The male Mott have four legs, tusks instead of teeth, one eye, no taste, and smell something awful.’
‘Probably too many food additives.’
‘They have slaughtered whole species and laid waste to their planets.’
‘So what? Humans do just the same.’
Diana’s voice was getting louder. ‘And they’re coming here!’
‘Plenty of politicians to form a coalition with. Great help to those who want to abolish the Welfare State.’
‘You wait till your chisel slips and you need five hundred stitches.’
‘I’ve got a sewing machine.’
Diana picked up her mop and resumed work on the flooded floor. The cat gave the woodcarver a stony glare that even her steady gaze couldn’t daunt.
Edna straightened her apron. ‘Oh well, better get back to work. Having a devil of a job with this undercutting.’ Edna gave the cat a fierce look. ‘I think you had better get that creature back to its circus. How does it do it? Got batteries of some sort?’
The cat continued to glower.
Diana shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
Edna nodded and left as though she had been discussing washing powder.
‘What did I tell you?’ Diana announced with a mixture of resentment and satisfaction.
The cat gave a thoughtful mew. ‘She did seem strangely unable to grasp the situation. Perhaps she didn’t believe you?’
‘She took in so little of what I said that if she did ever repeat it, it would come out that I’ve acquired a large cat that used to appear in Star Trek.’
‘“Star Brek” - sounds like breakfast for a human astronaut.’
‘You’re as deaf as she is.’ Diana kicked the clothesbasket to the door. ‘Will I have time to hang out the washing before the world comes to an end this time?’
‘Probably, though turn the coloured things inside-out if you don’t want the ultra-violet to fade them.’
‘Come off it. The ozone layer can’t be that thin.’
‘Well, Moosevan will probably get round to dealing with that soon enough.’

CHAPTER 4

Salisbury meticulously patted down the ericaceous compost around the new heather on his rockery and stood back to admire his labour of love. Well pleased with his achievement, he changed his clothes, had a small lunch, and marked a few papers. The beginning of term was weeks off, though some students were studying through their holidays. The scholar’s spirits rose at such enthusiasm yet he now realised that there were better things to do in your youth, and he was beginning to wish that he had done them.
Then Salisbury’s attention began to wander as though some ghostly hand was beckoning him to the countryside beyond his garden. He pulled on his walking shoes and left the bungalow.
As he strode out he became aware that there was something strangely disconcerting about the landscape he knew so well. The sparsely scattered trees hadn’t moved or started to shed their leaves prematurely, the winding track still wound in the same direction, and the decomposing trunks downed by the first great storm were still covered by tiered slabs of fungi. No, this was something more metaphysical.
A mist rolled over the barren moorland below.
Salisbury sighed. ‘Oh, if only this country were a few degrees south.’
He hadn’t expected to be heard, of course.

* * *

When Yuri returned to his cottage the next morning, Diana was waiting for him with a pot of tea.
‘Now look Yuri, I don’t know what you’re sulking about, but wandering off for days on end is only going to make people suspicious.’
‘It was for one night,’ Yuri complained morosely. ‘Why should neighbourhood worry because I do not sleep in my bed for one night? They do not tuck me in.’ His small face wore a stubbornly puckish expression and Diana knew better than to berate him excessively. He could always get sympathy from the bottle when it ran out everywhere else.
‘It’s because Eva’s gone off to that observatory, isn’t it?’
Yuri was beginning to wish Diana hadn’t found out he was married to her best friend, and it was true, he was jealous of Eva’s access to some of the world’s best telescopes. So he stayed sullenly silent.
Diana could read his thoughts. ‘Well, why shouldn’t she go? We agreed not to tell her anything about Moosevan.’
‘She would have put me in home.’
‘Then I would have had to join you.’
‘Nobody will ever believe us.
‘I told the wretched cat that.’
‘It must go and chase big little green men by itself.’
‘What about Moosevan, though? She’s behaved herself pretty well so far, but if you go and fall out with her, the Devil only knows what she might get up to.’
‘She ignores me.’
Diana was taken aback. Not so long before, that mighty planet dweller would have moved mountains or drained oceans for Yuri’s sake. Diana noticed that some of his innocent charisma had been lost after going through an experience that would have sent a more rational human into permanent shock. Perhaps Moosevan, because she was 90,000 million years old, had a different perspective on romance. Diana had ditched more than one lover herself and she wasn’t that much past fifty.
‘Can we be sure you were the only love interest she had at the time, Yuri?’
‘I was only human male she knew at time.’
Diana poured another mug of tea. ‘Oh no. You don’t think she could be making eyes at someone else do you?’
‘Like all women - fickle.’
‘I wonder who the lucky fellow is?’
‘I would like to see his face when he finds out.’
‘At least there would be one more person capable of believing us.’
There was a loud satisfied mew from the doorway.
‘Oh no,’ snapped Diana. ‘Who told you to eavesdrop?’
‘Go away pussy cat,’ agreed Yuri.
The cat jumped onto the table and helped itself to a sugar cube. ‘This could be helpful of course,’ it purred whilst crunching.
‘To you maybe,’ grumbled Diana. ‘You were the ones who made such a pig’s ear of everything. We’re only mere human beings remember. Why should we have to be involved in the machinations of intelligent planets and intergalactic mega brains?’ The cat helped itself to another lump of sugar and Diana snatched the bowl away. ‘And why is it necessary to wander around in that cat’s skin?’
‘Humans don’t pay any attention to cats. If I disguised myself as a human I would have to spend most of my time explaining who I was, where I came from, what my sexual preferences were, and what branch of the family tree I fell from. Cats don’t seem to have this problem.’
‘Well, we’re not going to have anything to do with you until you disguise yourself as a human,’ Diana said firmly.
Yuri wasn’t too bothered what the entity looked like and wondered whether to run off at the first opportunity. He shook his tangled locks in off-handed agreement.
‘This was something I wasn’t prepared for,’ mewed the cat resentfully.
Diana gasped. ‘You mean you actually thought we were going to chase that revolting green creature and its companions for you?’
‘I would have supplied you with a very powerful fusion blaster of course.’
‘I can’t even chop the heads off sprats. How do you expect me to gun down some huge, two-legged mollusc?’
‘It wouldn’t make that much of a mess, and this atmosphere must slow them down a little. There’s not nearly as much pollution in it as on their home planet. Fresh air never did suit the Olmuke constitution.’
‘I thought you and your friend were supposed to be pacifists?’
‘Well,’ purred the cat. ‘Kulp did double-cross us.’ It sank its claws into the table and carved out sizable striations in its marble top.
‘You said the Mott didn’t give him any choice. You said they had the power to dismember him piece by piece, even from their own galaxy.’
‘So you would be doing him a favour.’
‘Go away pussy cat,’ mumbled Yuri, ‘or I shall pour this pot of scalding tea over your tail.’ He tossed a mugful in the cat’s direction.
It leapt from the table with a skirl of rage. ‘I’ll report you to the RSPCA for that!’ Then it bolted out of the door.
‘How odd,’ mused Diana. ‘I was sure neither of them could feel pain.’
‘As its companion is exploring surface of Venus at this very moment, it could be inconvenient for her if you are wrong.
Diana gave him a sideways glance. ‘Yuri, you sounded almost English then.’
‘Yes. I think my brain must really be going at last.’

CHAPTER 5

Once again the geophysicist scrutinised the latest satellite image. It was no good; its ground control would have to recalibrate the camera. The pictures it was sending back had definitely slewed the North Sea by several degrees. She emailed her report to them in time for the satellite’s next pass. A reply came back almost instantaneously. There was nothing wrong with the satellite. Climatologists had agreed that the readings were correct.
The geophysicist picked up the telephone and made a transatlantic call.
‘What do you mean, “correct”? If those images being sent back are correct, then Ireland and Britain are moving southwest. It’s just as well the Scilly Isles are moving, otherwise we’ll soon run them down... No, of course not... I thought the rise in temperature was something to do with global warming... But it’s impossible. This is continental drift gone mad. Land masses just don’t shift about like that. We aren’t even on the edge of a plate, and no tremors have been reported... What aren’t you telling me?... What do you mean, it’s classified? It’s our ruddy country that’s moving... Yes, and you know what you can do with your Freedom of Information Act - Oh, it’s our Government. I should have known. If we were all about to be devoured by an outbreak of necrotising fasciitis, we’d be the last to know... Oh, all right. If you won’t tell me it’ll have to wait, but I’ve got to pass this on. The Channel Tunnel will need to be evacuated if nothing else. Though, come to think of it, they must have done that some while ago. They must have kept that out of the news as well.’
Like mighty ships that had been moored too long in the same anchorage, Ireland and Britain were sedately slipping into the warming waters of the Atlantic Drift. Not enough to cause a catastrophic eddy behind or massive flooding before, but ponderously, as though some colossal brain was carefully easing them inch by inch towards the equator. Miraculously, no well heads or mineshafts were ruptured, and tunnels were safely sealed. Birds sensed the slight increase in warmth and wondered whether to try for one more brood, while some dogs tended to howl a lot - they weren’t sure why, it just seemed like a good idea.

* * *

These strange events may have been what Salisbury had sensed that misty afternoon though, had anyone told him, he would never have believed it. He was more concerned about the sudden influx of strangers into his quiet countryside. These uniforms didn’t belong to hikers. The scholar disliked authority and soldiers of any description. He had led a personal and persuasive crusade amongst his students to dissuade them from joining the forces. As soon as the gym instructors started praising a youngster’s competitive spirit, Salisbury would bombard the pupil with poems by Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon. He had often wished for himself the courage it took to be a conscientious objector.
Because Salisbury dreaded uniforms, officialdom seemed to sense this and invariably zeroed in on him at the slightest pretext. He was probably listed somewhere as an anarchist for daring to complain about low-flying jets or for losing his library ticket. Most other dons on the staff kept company with magistrates, local government officers and the odd MP, whether freemasons or not. Salisbury preferred to chat with the secretary of the local ramblers’ association and the Brown Owl who regularly led her pack round his wild flower garden for nature instruction. So he wisely kept his distance from the activity below, even though he burned with curiosity to know what they were searching for.
From the cover of the trees skirting the hill, Salisbury peered down into the valley he had always thought so featureless that he had often wished for the occasional shrub or landslide to punctuate its bleakness. It was now apparent that some friendly deity had granted his wish. The stony pasture had been transformed into a massive rockery studded with clumps of brilliant flowers. The occasional sheep, stranded amongst the fluorescent blossoms, wondered whether it should graze or take a photograph. Salisbury had often scattered seeds in the hope that something other than twitch grass would grow, but they hadn’t produced so much as a daisy. Now an alpine meadowland bloomed.
Wonderment overtook Salisbury’s caution. He was unaware of the inquisitive blue eyes observing him.
‘Quite a show isn’t it?’ said a friendly voice.
Salisbury turned and saw a cheerful man two-thirds his height, and twice his width, with an accent he couldn’t place. He was dressed more like a tourist than a rambler: open sandals, cotton trousers, patterned shirt, and obligatory camera with which he reeled off snaps.
‘Yes,’ agreed Salisbury. ‘I wonder what happened?’ he added vaguely.
‘How d’you mean?’
‘What? Oh. The scenery. Wasn’t here before. Quite strange - the stream never used to have that course. It rose in the adjoining valley, didn’t cascade from those rocks in a waterfall. Come to think about it, that escarpment wasn’t there before either - None of this was. I’d often wished something would liven the place up, yet never dared hope for anything more dramatic than a rare bird followed by twitchers. It’s more likely the odd jet might crash. They do fly perilously low over here, you know.’
‘Need to learn how to avoid the radar.’ The tourist shook his head knowingly. ‘Got to do it, I suppose.’
‘Rather dents the prospect of any rare bird wanting to nest. They’ve even frightened the dunnocks off. Dratted military. Seem to be everywhere.’
‘Never a soldier then?’
‘National service. All those mindless orders. Never yet heard a drill sergeant able to put an intelligent sentence together. I’m sure they didn’t understand half the words they used.’
‘I bet you told them.’
‘Frequently. They seemed to think anyone University trained and without the connections to be a captain should be in permanent fatigues, and I never had the right “attitude” to be an officer.’
‘Nothing to be ashamed of.’
Salisbury sighed. ‘Could never understand how we managed to afford an army after the War, given what we owed the Americans.’
‘Same college as Burgess and MacLean were you?’
‘Oh no. Where I studied most of us never found our way out of the ivory tower.’
‘You think they had a point though?’
Salisbury gave a thin smile. ‘Everyone has a point of view. In a hundred years’ time, when we know what the secret services were really up to, it may transpire they were right after all.’
The tourist laughed. ‘Bet you’re a vegetarian as well?’
‘Ever since Lucifer died.’
‘Lucifer?’
‘My dog. I was given custody when my family left. They took the Volkswagen and the cat. I only bought meat because of him. Not the sort of animal that would mistake lettuce for steak - He did dig up the garden as well.’
‘Like the countryside, do you?’
‘Oh yes, I wouldn’t live anywhere else. I was offered a chair at my old University, but that would have meant living in a town.’ Salisbury smiled at the scene below. ‘Perhaps I was right.’
‘You don’t think all this is odd then?’
Salisbury hesitated and wondered why he was being so open with the stranger, even though the man seemed amiable and trustworthy enough. ‘I’ve been having this strange feeling lately, as though something were listening to my thoughts. It’s absurd of course - And then there’s the garden.’
‘Your garden?’
‘It’s my age I suppose. Over the past few days, whenever I’ve been out there, I’ve had this sensation that I wasn’t alone. I had a good look around and couldn’t find anything though - it’s almost half an acre. Has to be my imagination, though my barometer said there was definitely a change in air pressure.’
The stranger gave a sympathetic smile. ‘They say some people are more sensitive to their environment than others. Perhaps you just had a premonition about this change in the landscape.’
‘I’m sure I willed it to happen. That’s even more absurd.’ Salisbury laughed self-consciously then noticed an odd sparkle in the tubby man’s friendly eyes.

CHAPTER 6

‘But they don’t have a colour set,’ whinged Julia.
Diana hammered the remaining T-shirts into her daughter’s suitcase. ‘That’s because your cousins spend most of their time outside.’
Once she would have lovingly folded every article. After surviving the menopause, she wondered why she had ever bothered.
‘They collect pebbles and make papier mâché cows. Have you seen their new fishpond?’
‘Not yet.’
‘They’re breeding sharks, you know.’
‘I’ve no doubt the piranha will soon sort them out.’
‘And the river’s only yards away from a sewage outlet.’
‘Since when did you fancy going for a swim anyway? You can draw some posters for their campaign to have it relocated.’
‘That’s all they do - campaign. They don’t even bother to watch Doctor Who because they think he causes time pollution.’
‘You’re still staying there until I say you can come back.’
‘There won’t be any holiday left to enjoy by then.’ Julia put on her doe-like expression. ‘Are you sure we can’t have a DVD recorder?’
‘Positive. I won’t be here to record anything for you anyway.’
‘Where’re you going then?’
‘Never you mind.’
‘You aren’t running off with Yuri are you?’
‘At the moment Yuri is more likely to run off by himself.’
Julia instinctively knew this had something to do with the talking cat. She didn’t ask any more questions because she wasn’t up to facing honest answers. She preferred the quiet life, and even her eco-freak cousins were relatively docile compared with what her mother could get up to.

* * *
That evening, a large, angular cat sat on the roof of Yuri’s cottage and watched Venus gleaming on the horizon. Given the corrosion and massive pressures that distorted its atmosphere, the planet probably couldn’t do much else. More out of boredom than in the hope of seeing anything, Yuri also peered up at it through his ten-inch reflector. It looked the same. It always looked the same, even with some inter-galactic intelligence poking about in its sulphuric sky.
The cat gave a very tired miaow then sloped down the roof to join Yuri. He had not been expecting its arrival and nearly toppled over as it made a massive leap to land on the fence beside him. The fence lurched uneasily under its weight, so it jumped onto the branch of a tree with an unfeline thud.
‘Now disappear,’ Yuri suggested hopefully, but this cat wasn’t from Cheshire.
‘She’s very quiet,’ it mewed quizzically.
‘Who?’ asked Yuri.
‘Dax. She’s up there on Venus, you know. Hasn’t contacted me for ages.’
‘Must have found something interesting.’
‘Why should she go there?’
‘Just looking around.’
‘I do not trust you or your friend, pussy cat. What are you up to?’
‘Nothing liable to cause any harm.’
‘You move planet creature from one galaxy to another, and into world which is already occupied, and you do not think that is liable to cause harm?’
‘Not that much anyway.’
‘And now you say we are about to be invaded by that loathsome Kulp and his friends, and that is not going to cause harm?’
‘Well, nothing compared to what will happen when the Mott come through the portal he’s going to install -You haven’t met them have you?’
‘I do not wish to.’
‘Not a good idea if you haven’t got the nostrils for it. They smell worse than they look, and they look gruesome enough to curdle dragon’s milk.’
‘I did not know dragons had milk.’
‘Not many people try to milk them.’
Yuri became more annoyed. ‘Is this only level of conversation intelligences of your magnitude can manage?’
‘You prefer to talk about Kulp?’
‘I prefer not to think about that creature. You must stop him by yourself.’
‘It would help if we knew where he was going to reopen the gravity corridor.’
‘Why don’t you change into In Sb array then you can scan in near infra-red?’
‘Oh no, Kulp’s too green.’
‘Now you are being silly, pussy cat.’
‘His blood’s the wrong temperature.’
Yuri threw the cover over the reflector. ‘Well, if you think I am going to let you put Diana or me in danger-’
‘I’m quite sure she’s capable of rescuing you if anything happens. She did the last time.’
Yuri prickled. ‘Neither of us want to play this game.’
‘We thought you were fond of Moosevan?’
‘She is fickle. I think she find someone else.’
‘Must be the change of atmosphere. Her old home was much more mauve. Full of exotic minerals and flowers exuding every poison you can think of.’
‘Humans will poison Earth quite soon, so then she will be happy.’
‘Oh dear, how I hate lovers’ tiffs.’
Yuri’s fury became totally irrational. ‘And it is all your fault!’
‘Ours? Why?’
‘Because you have power to put everything right, then decide to change into cat instead!’
‘Well, I had to have some cover-’ it began, but Yuri had stomped inside and slammed the door.
The cat started to clean itself and, unable to manage it without lifting two paws, fell out of the tree.

CHAPTER 7

When encountering atmospheres corrosive enough to disintegrate brick, it was never a good idea to choose a guise that required cells. That was why the cat’s companion, Dax, had assumed the form of a rather elegant spiral of plasma. She wasn’t expecting to come across anyone on Venus worth impressing but, unlike her friend, she had an innate sense of what was stylish.
This inquisitive puff of energy had so far ascertained that Venus was the right shape, a reasonable distance from a stable sun, and had nothing really wrong with it that a little juggling about with the atmosphere couldn’t put right. Perhaps a slight adjustment in its orbit; the planet was unlikely to have evolved any beings sentient enough to complain about that. Those dratted pulses of energy that occasionally launched murderous attacks at her nebulous body seemed to be the nearest to anything living. Dax had put it down to the lightning that frequently sliced through the leaden cloud bank and struck the ground. But she had to be sure.
The next pulse that came at her suddenly found itself flattened against a wall of rock. Instead of dispersing like any self-respecting blob of energy, it seemed to lie there as though waiting for an ambulance. There weren’t many things with which this super-intelligence couldn’t communicate, but dazed chunks of energy did present something of a problem.
In an instant the dense atmosphere was buzzing with its furious companions. If they had the intelligence to get that wild, there had to be some topic of conversation Dax could engage them in. Before the angry swarm knew what was happening, the svelte spiral of plasma became an enveloping blanket in which they found themselves trapped.
Their leader buzzed in their own language words equivalent to, ‘All right, we give up! Swallow us and it won’t do you much good either.’
‘Who are you?’ demanded Dax.
‘Zatts.’
‘Zatts?’
‘Volcanic Zatts.’
‘Volcanic Zatts?’
‘So, where else is there to live in a place like this?’
‘I didn’t think anything could live in a place like this.’
‘It doesn’t require that much intelligence, just persistence.’
‘But nothing with any sense could have evolved under these pressures.’
‘Why do you think we’re so bad-tempered? Who are you anyway?’
‘As we’re into short names, you can call me Dax.’
‘What’s your reason for hanging about a place like this?’
‘Oh, I don’t come from this galaxy.’ Dax didn’t think it would be wise to let on what she was really up to. That would make them even more furious. ‘There’s been a breach in space time. I was sent to investigate it. You haven’t seen anything suspicious, have you?’
‘Only you,’ said the Zatts. ‘Haven’t seen any metal objects being pulverised for ages. Whoever was sending the things must have twigged what was happening to them.’
‘You mean from Earth?’
‘Oh, is that what they call it? We’ve often wondered. Not many of us try getting over the mountains to see who’s on the other side. We lead a pretty uneventful life. The only things to get excited in this place are molecules.’
Dax resisted the temptation to say that their tempers were even worse. ‘Perhaps I should have gone to that red planet first.’
‘Planet? What’s a planet?’
It was obvious the Zatts believed they lived in a valley with a permanent shell of cloud cover. Dax didn’t have her companion’s simple urge to explain revolutionary matters to backward life forms. It usually started uprisings of the most unpleasant sort anyway. They knew what molecules were and that was enough. It was best that something as bad-tempered as Zatts never went on to discover anything about atoms.
Dax shaped her plasma into a rocket. ‘Better go now - Cheerio.’ And before the swarm could close in again, she shot straight up through the corrosive soup and disappeared.

CHAPTER 8

‘Well,’ said Diana irritably. ‘She told me to pack and wait here.’
‘She told me you would be waiting here with suitcase, so I come as well. I do not trust that pussy cat.’
Diana noticed Yuri’s battered knapsack. ‘I thought you would be heading in the opposite direction.’
‘Opposite direction to where? I come with you, I find out where to avoid.’
‘How did they ever think you were mad? Sometimes your logic is terrifying - generally useless - but terrifying all the same. Do you think she’s discovered where Kulp and his companions are?’
Yuri pursed his lips. ‘I do not think it good idea we should meet them.’
‘I’ve never met them and I agree.’
‘They are green, like algae on surface of dead pond. When I first see them on Moosevan’s planet they were not green for long. Big one turned pink and other two became... striped. They might have done this to frighten me, but I think it was to annoy each other.’
‘Even if I could get used to the idea of aliens, I don’t think I’d ever manage to deal with their sense of humour.’
‘Oh...’ Yuri shook his head of tangled grey locks. ‘They have no sense of humour.’
‘They sound hilarious.’
‘Crocodile smile, but does not tell many jokes.’
Diana looked up at the large dishes which were trying to find some tiny radio signal in the sky through the barrage of interference coming from satellites, ground stations, and anything that could transmit on the wave bands they had been allocated. ‘It’s going to rain.’
‘If Eva was here, she would know what to do.’
‘She’d never believe it. Those dratted entities are stuck with us because we’re the only humans with brains curdled enough to understand what’s going on.’
Yuri paused. ‘I do not understand what is going on.’
‘Come to mention it, I’m not too sure why I’m waiting by the side of a road for a car that neither of us can drive to suddenly appear out of nowhere.’
‘That has probably been attended to.’
‘I’m not getting into it if there’s a cat behind the steering wheel - Got a clean change of clothes in that bag?’
Yuri shrugged. ‘Clean enough. From what I saw of big green alien, he would not be bothered whether I wash or not.’
Something occurred to Diana. ‘Of course.’
‘What?’
‘We’re going to meet someone.’
‘Who?’
‘Whoever Moosevan has taken a fancy to.’
Yuri grunted.
‘Don’t you see?’ Diane explained, ‘She must be getting up to something we haven’t been told about. Her new boyfriend is probably the only one who can persuade her to calm down. He’s not liable to listen to that silly cat if he’s sane, so she wants us to explain what’s going on.’
Yuri scowled. ‘I prefer big green men to chase me.’
‘You’re just jealous.’
‘I just come along to make sure you are kept well. I have no interest in this new boyfriend of hers.’
‘I wonder what she’s been doing?’
‘That I prefer not to think about.’
Their conversation was interrupted by the purr of a car’s engine. It was a Rolls almost as wide as the road, and looked vintage enough to be able to sneer a tractor onto the verge. It pulled up beside them.
‘Do not get inside,’ warned Yuri. ‘I saw picture once about car which ate people.’
Diana was inclined to agree. The elegant vehicle had an unnerving air of Thirties’ menace about it.
‘Oh really,’ complained a voice from behind the polarised window concealing the driver’s seat. ‘Will you two stop fooling around and get in.’ The tone definitely belonged to the cat.
Though curious to know how it was managing to turn the steering wheel and reach the accelerator, Diana thought twice about opening the door. She had seen the way the cat had tried to climb trees, and its new venture didn’t bode well for the road.
‘I do not want to be driven anywhere by a moggie,’ she said firmly.
‘It’s all right.’ There was a good deal of clicking and rustling as the driver released her safety belt and climbed out. ‘I would never have been able to stand all those cat’s eyes staring back at me.’
Diana and Yuri gazed in amazement at the large jovial woman of indeterminate colour dressed in voluminous skirts. Though not elderly, she had the presence of a tree three hundred years old. This new disguise had the splendour of Brunel’s derelict ‘Great Britain’, now ancient enough to be restored for posterity. No, thought Diana, there wasn’t a model, female, male, monument, or yak, on which she could have based her appearance. That was just something devised from the depths of the entity’s vast store of knowledge, innate bad taste, and possibly a glimpse of a large toby jug.
‘I think I prefer pussy cat,’ whispered Yuri. ‘Does she have name for this... arrangement?’
‘Call me Reniola, old thing.’ She shook Yuri’s hand before he could snatch it away.
‘Look Reniola, couldn’t you have chosen to be someone...’ Diana hesitated, ‘a little less conspicuous?’
‘Oh, I thought purple rather suited me.’
‘It’s not the purple so much as what’s inside it.’
Reniola shrugged. ‘Well, it seems comfortable enough. Anyhow, I expect you to do all the talking for me. Finding it a bit difficult getting the hang of you humans. Strange ideas you have. Would you believe it, only a moment ago I was tempted to put one of those - you know - tobacco sticks I found in the glove compartment in my mouth and set fire to it. Made me feel quite peculiar. Never mind - only dented the front a bit.’
‘Who does the car belong to, for goodness’ sake?’
‘Oh, it won’t be missed. I left a hologram in its place. The old boy apparently only looks at it. Had to jiggle a few things about to get its speed up of course, and to adjust the engine so it didn’t need petrol. Now I know how to put the machine together I could assemble one in no time.’
‘I didn’t think you needed diagrams to assemble anything?’
‘Only the easy stuff. To reach enlightenment it’s necessary to perfect the art of simplicity in everything. When you do eventually manage to dispense with mortality you can do virtually anything as long as it’s not easy. You’d probably say it was all to do with quantum mechanics.’
Yuri’s knowledge of the astrophysical quailed at such Uncertainty on a Cosmic scale and wondered, belatedly, if Reniola’s previous incarnation was related to Schrödinger’s cat.
‘I see,’ Diana said unsurely. ‘How safe a driver are you? Our molecules aren’t able to recombine as efficiently as yours after major accidents.’
‘Oh - safe as houses. Whatever that means. Jump in. Want to catch the poor fish before Moosevan gives him a nervous breakdown. Won’t be much use to us then, will he?’
‘I was right.’
Reniola laughed. ‘You didn’t really think we wanted you to hunt down Kulp did you?’
‘Yes,’ said Diana and Yuri.
‘Oh dear me. What a strange sense of humour some cats must have.’ She chuckled and bounced back into the driver’s seat.
Yuri now wished she was the cat in Schrödinger’s box, so he could close the lid and believe it had expired.
Yuri and Diana looked apprehensively at each other.
‘I have the strange feeling Julia is going to have to spend the rest of her adolescent life rescuing stranded whales, planting acorns and drawing posters for environmental campaigns,’ sighed Diana.
‘I have feeling that if we fail there will be very big entity with own ideas about looking after Earth anyway.’
‘Ugh.’

CHAPTER 9

Not only did Salisbury have an acute dislike of authority, he didn’t care much for the small cell it had kept him locked up in for the last two days. At least his food had been vegetarian and toilet paper soft. All else was a puzzle to him. Despite his easy-going nature, he had been adamant about not answering any questions without first knowing why he had been arrested. Apart from them having the suspicion that he had been doing some illicit landscape gardening on a preposterous scale, there was nothing else to which he could link his internment. And, without access to a phone, he had no way of telling where he was being held. His guards were not dressed like ordinary policemen and their accents weren’t local. Perhaps he should have been flattered they chose to abduct him, instead he was more worried about what he was going to tell his principal when he did get out. The last thing she would have expected her English don to acquire was a police record.
At last, the deceptively jolly tourist paid him a visit. No longer in his innocent tourist disguise, he was wearing a suit and waistcoat that gave him the affable air of a Sidney Greenstreet. This did not raise Salisbury’s hopes. He had seen the Maltese Falcon several times and was more inclined to trust the sinister charm of Peter Lorre.
After a good deal of beating, fortunately only about the bush, the truth at last came out. It wasn’t the landscape gardening that bothered this security service so much, but a well of molecular disturbance between Salisbury’s wild flower garden and the tool-shed. Not being a physicist, he was at a loss to understand what this meant, let alone feel inclined to own up to it.
Realising that the prisoner was going to continue being obdurate, his captors bundled the scholar into a van and drove him off to be confronted by the crime that defied anything their scientists knew about quantum mechanics.
On seeing the expressions of the scientists surrounding a sizable indentation in his lovingly tended garden, Salisbury knew it was about time to stop being worried, and opt for full blown fear. The combination of glaring arc lamps on the cloudy night sky and trucks full of scientific equipment told him how deep in trouble he was.
For all the illumination, a pillar of darkness was threading its erratic way up through the descending fog. Whatever the nebulous structure might have been, it was beginning to show signs of decay. Anything tossed into the densely black unstable cylinder either never landed or bounced back with its molecules scrambled beyond recognition. Salisbury was only grateful Brown Owl and her pack hadn’t encountered the aberration on their nature rambles. Apart from the awkward questions the Brownies would have asked, it might also have left them with the impression that he was in league with dangerous alien powers. In fact, his knowledge of physics, much to the disgust of the science faculty, only ran to differentiating between water and alcohol by tasting them. It seemed absurd he could be accused of making dark dents in the ether.
Salisbury wondered if he should have accepted those quarters at the college after all. The students there were loyal and had defended the ancient stones against visiting education ministers and fascist speakers. They would have been in their element seeing off the army.
Salisbury’s inquisitors soon gave up trying to question him. They had the powers to detain him for as long as they liked, and only needed to claim the scholar had contracted some deadly virus infiltrated into the country by an alien power. That would have been enough to dampen the curiosity of the most suspicious policeman or passing neighbour.
Salisbury pleaded to be allowed to use the phone, even to make sure the fridge had defrosted, but it was no good. Through the windows he could see his rooms had been ransacked, his library dismantled and stacked in heaps, the furniture pushed to one side and the floorboards ripped up. He didn’t dare ask what they were looking for. Such melodramatic actions begged a terrible answer.
A square-faced man wearing a camouflage jacket eventually confronted him. ‘All right, where are they?’
‘Who?’ Salisbury’s mouth was so dry the word was reluctant to come out.
‘Three men were seen coming through that pillar thing in your garden.’
‘Three men? What pillar thing?’
‘Don’t play the innocent. We may not know what this is all about, or how they managed it, but you’re our only clue.’
‘Who saw these three men?’
‘That doesn’t matter. We also know they were bringing a heck of a lot of equipment with them. We need to know what that was going to be used for as well.’
‘I don’t understand. Please believe me.’
‘You’re just the sort of front infiltrators would put up.’
‘Infiltrators from where?’
The hard-featured man gave him a glacial glare. ‘That’s what we want to know.’
‘But... if you’re from Intelligence, surely you must know more than I do?’
The sarcasm in the statement didn’t register.
‘We only know about what happens on this planet.’
Salisbury swallowed hard. He was frightened before; now he began to experience the odd cocktail of shock, terror, and panic. ‘Aliens?’
‘Well. What do you know about them?’
‘Nothing - I swear it - nothing.’
‘All right. We’ll question you later.’ The officer strode off to intimidate someone else.
Salisbury didn’t like the inflection in the man’s tone. He glanced about to see if there was some opening he could dash through. He was scared enough to risk a bullet in the back. Unfortunately he was handcuffed and surrounded by a detachment of similar granite-featured men who no doubt had the muscles and compassion to match.
Wishing he had been trained for the rugby scrum after all, Salisbury tried to make his brain communicate with his legs. He knew the countryside beyond his bungalow so well, that even with its recent adjustments he could have lost his guards in the pitch blackness with just a little luck...
There was an odd movement a short way off; not enough to alarm those nearest to him, just raise their curiosity. Something appeared to be burrowing its way up through the ground. An arc lamp was turned on the area as the apparently solid lawn started to ripple. This no doubt caused some alarm amongst the many moles that frequented it and the men poked at it with their guns.
‘Don’t get earth in your weapons you idiots!’ bellowed the square-faced officer as he strode over, glowering at Salisbury. ‘What is it?’
‘Hyperactive worms,’ the prisoner suggested, hoping something so mundane wouldn’t bring the wrath of the army down on him. He couldn’t understand why his carefully tended garden had decided to commit such an act of treachery against him.
‘Dig it up.’
Salisbury had no choice but to watch the neat turf being turned over by spades and a small bulldozer.
Not finding anything, the officer wandered away to let them get on with their excavations. Weary of the fruitless task, the soldiers’ attention was no longer on Salisbury.
Then, suddenly, the arc lamp vanished. So did the bulldozer. The soldiers rushed to pull its driver from a rapidly growing hole. As soon as he was saved, another chasm opened up and swallowed them as well. Apparently unharmed, their shouts of panic attracted the attention of everyone else. The garden appeared to be on Salisbury’s side after all. He didn’t stop to wonder at his luck, and darted to a familiar hole in the hedge where he disappeared into the darkness while square-jaws tried to bully everyone into keeping calm.

CHAPTER 10

Mars was a pretty derelict sort of place. It had a bit of atmosphere and plenty of frozen water, yet was so rusty that landscaping was difficult to imagine in any colour but red. One thing in its favour was that it was very low on microbes, let alone stroppy wildlife, and the orbital change and terra engineering wouldn’t be too complicated. There was something Dax found inexplicably disconcerting however. She couldn’t tell why at that moment, but it had to do with the odd-shaped moon. She had come across captured asteroids with stranger profiles, that hole though..?
Dax threaded her way through the craters and caverns of the low orbiting moon. On reaching its interior, she was prepared for the inevitable. The damn thing was artificial. Some ancient atmosphere had corroded its internal engines and power sources. They would have been unrecognisable to any mortal, and it was impossible to tell their original purpose. Dax might have cured the moon’s deteriorating orbit easily enough - she could call on enough power to re-sculpture a neutron star - unfortunately, ancient engineering meant ancient civilisations, and ancient civilisations meant Galactic preservation orders.
Cursing in a way that did not become a super-intelligent cloud of plasma, Dax returned to the surface of Mars. Several deep excavations did indeed prove the existence of former civilisations. Whether they had been very intelligent it was difficult to tell. As they were no longer around it seemed unlikely; evidence of global warfare or general mismanagement of the planet had long since been eroded. What remained was just enough to tell Dax it was a listed world. She left its surface to go and think, and sulk a little on its other moon.
While her mind sparked with annoyance and ideas, another thought suddenly intruded as she detected the massive gravitational disturbance of a corridor from another galaxy. Kulp!
She tried to contact Reniola. As usual, her companion was involved with other problems, such as finding it was as difficult to keep the car on the road as climb a tree.
Someone had to watch Kulp. He had been dangerous enough when on her side, now he was desperate as well. Dax regretted leaving him to Reniola. Having been booby-trapped by the unscrupulous Mott, the green Olmuke wasn’t likely to listen to her genial reasoning. He would only pay attention to negotiations backed up by Dax’s nuclear punch.

* * *

Kulp, Jannu and Tolt had found a suitable hiding place in the Earth’s crust.
Down in the hot realms where there should have been demons, three large green bodies were burrowing out a huge cavern like voracious maggots in an overripe apple. Or rather, two of them were excavating while the other one consulted plans and pondered a lot.
‘Why couldn’t you have brought the fusion excavator through?’ moaned Tolt. ‘It’s taking ages with these blasters.’
Kulp went seaweed-green; a pleasant enough shade compared with his normal colour, though a certain sign of exasperation. ‘I told you,’ he snapped. ‘It might have detonated the Mott explosive.’
‘Oh yes,’ Tolt said vaguely. ‘Might be uncomfortable for you, that.’
‘One more twitter out of you and I’ll send you back through the gravity corridor without a suit.’
‘Well,’ said Jannu, able to see both sides of everything without being clever enough to come down on the right one, ‘you should be used to his stupid suggestions by now.’
‘It was one of his stupid suggestions that allowed the Mott to capture me - remember?’ Kulp looked so dangerous that the other two took deep breaths of the foul cavern air, half expecting their ringleader’s glare to ignite it. ‘Who thought it would be a good idea to turn that sun into a diamond and present it to the Mott Emperor as a peace offering?’
‘Well,’ murmured Tolt, ‘if you’d helped me with the calculations it wouldn’t have exploded.’
‘The way the Mott battalions wore it, rather became them I thought,’ added Jannu.
‘The only thing you two are fit for is burrowing. Any other Olmuke could have made a calculation like that, even an embryo before it came out of its jar.’
‘We did try to rescue you,’ Jannu protested feebly, then rallied. ‘It was your idea to make the presentation, though. The Emperor’s face must have been a sight when the thing went up.’ Jannu was about to let a laugh escape, but swallowed it just in time.
‘It’s difficult to see anything much when the hooves of half the Mott army are standing on top of you.’ Kulp hurled his cylinder of plans against a wall. ‘And if you don’t get back to work the Mott will think I’ve absconded and start dismantling me organ by organ.’
‘Are you sure there isn’t anything we could do about that?’ Jannu asked thoughtfully. ‘I could always nip back through the other portal and find a manual on Olmuke surgery.’
Kulp’s snarl of rage told him he would sooner run the risk of exploding than let either of them operate on him, so Jannu and Tolt went back to work.
Moosevan didn’t seem to be bothered by their activity. There were too many things to keep her occupied on her new planet, and she allowed the three Olmuke to labour on.
At last the cavern was large enough to take the portal for the gravity corridor.
Kulp hastily erected his equipment about the shallow crater they had blasted out. ‘Are we being scanned?’
Tolt turned to at the monitor he had been entrusted to watch. ‘Not here. Those humans seem to have taken an interest in the original portal. Probably still trying to work out what it is.’
‘Don’t worry about them. They’ll never do it.’ Kulp wandered away.
Perhaps it was time to close the portal through which they had arrived. The other end of that gravity corridor was on a planet where the most intelligent species had evolved from a type of fungus. All it needed was a few magic mushrooms to wander from the portal in Salisbury’s garden to give the game away.
‘Fancy the Mott having the imagination to do that though,’ Tolt whispered to Jannu.
‘Do what?’
‘Inject enough explosive into Kulp to turn him into a thinking jelly.’
‘Shut up.’
Kulp was too busy operating the controls on his equipment to hear.

* * *

Some miles away, in Salisbury’s garden, several scientists toppled over as the column of gravitational disruption suddenly vaporised. Most of the soldiers were now dashing about the pitch-black countryside after the inoffensive, handcuffed English don. Those who had seen the portal’s disappearance had no doubt that this was his work.

* * *

Jannu stopped in the middle of installing the last circuit that would enable the Mott invasion force to enter the planet from their own galaxy. ‘Hasn’t something struck you as odd?’
‘What?’ Kulp knew he should have had better sense than to ask.
‘Moosevan. The old girl hasn’t moved about much, has she?’
Kulp stopped calculating for a moment. It was a pertinent observation after all. ‘Perhaps being shunted through that ancient gravity corridor without warning damaged her. She might not have survived.’
‘I wonder what’s making all those odd crustal movements, then?’ mused Tolt.
‘What crustal movements?’
‘Well, this bit of land is shifting southwards.’
Kulp’s fingers froze before he could install the next connection. ‘What?’
‘Doesn’t seem to be doing any harm though.’
The green volcano erupted. ‘Why did they waste time putting your germ in an egg, you bumbling incompetent! Why didn’t you say something about it before?’
Tolt was baffled. ‘Didn’t seem important.’
Jannu was used to Kulp’s fits and the way his eyes rolled up as though expecting to be struck by a thunderbolt.
‘You’re both idiots! If this bit of land is moving on the surface of the planet, then so is the portal we’re installing. We’ve only compensated for natural rotation.’
‘Ah... I never thought of that.’
‘It’ll be misaligned before we can operate it. The power in the tunnel could blow a hole in this planet and us out of its other side.’
‘I see what you mean.’ Jannu stopped installing the last circuit and gingerly moved away. ‘Seems the old girl couldn’t have been that damaged after all. Wonder why she suddenly had a whim to start shifting things about?’
There was an explanation.
Kulp turned on Tolt. ‘What’re you watching?’
Tolt still didn’t understand why he was so excited. ‘There seems to be a search party of some sort poking around up there.’
‘What are they searching for?’ asked Jannu.
‘Only another human. Don’t look as though they’ll catch him though.’
‘Why not?’
‘Their vehicles keep falling down holes, and walls of rock are coming up from nowhere to block their path.’
That was it! Kulp remembered the way Moosevan had first taken a fancy to a human being. She must have been protecting this one for the same reason.
He tucked a blaster in his belt and put on a levitation pack. ‘At least we can get insurance against one problem.’ He disappeared up the shaft to the bleak night landscape above.
‘What was he on about?’ asked Tolt.
Jannu shook his head. ‘This could mean trouble with their local wildlife and army.’

CHAPTER 11

Julia watched as the stream of green dye swirled about the calm sea.
‘No,’ she said unsurely. ‘I don’t really see what you mean. Shouldn’t most things on the surface of the sea be swept towards the shore when the tide’s coming in anyway?’
As well as being an ecologist, her older cousin was something of a mathematician. She put down the oars to wipe the sea spray from her glasses. ‘Not as rapidly as this on calm water. We use the same test on the spread of sewerage discharges.’
‘Doesn’t the moon have something to do with the tides?’
‘It causes them, and the tide should be going out now, not coming in. There appears to be another factor at play here.’
‘Play,’ thought Julia. Not normally given to energetic exercise, she wished her cousins would let her out for some immature, innocent play instead of insisting she watch ecology crumble about them. There wasn’t so much as a friendly passing porpoise. They had probably grown tired of being poked and patronised by people in wetsuits.
She sighed. ‘Well, what else could be causing the water to rush inshore so quickly?’
‘Have to think about that.’ Zoë pulled the oars in and frowned with concentration as the small boat was pushed steadily towards the shore.
‘If the tide’s meant to be going out,’ pondered Julia, ‘then shouldn’t we be going out with it?’ Zoë said nothing, so Julia went on speculating. ‘So, if the water is doing the right thing and moving away from the shore, then the shore must be moving towards the water.’ She laughed at her absurd conclusion.
Her cousin’s glance could have knocked her into the water.
‘Sorry.’
But Zoë wasn’t looking for an apology. ‘That’s it! I wish I still had a brain your age.’
‘Well, Mum reckons I’m going to be stuck with mine for the rest of my life.’
Zoë picked up the oars and rowed for the shore as fast as her trained muscles allowed, leaving two ribbons of bright green in their wake. As soon as they arrived she pounced on the nearest phone and called a friend in the local meteorological office. Within minutes, to Julia’s amazement, her absurd deduction was confirmed. She would much rather have been classified as an idiot and allowed to join her aunt in front of the television.
Zoë was soon addressing the assembled family, including four cousins, two aunts, and one uncle, not to mention several other members of the local ecology action committee.
‘The Met Office has been keeping these the satellite pictures secret.’
‘So that’s why the forecasts have all been up the creek,’ groaned Great Aunt Fran.
‘They all had to sign the Official Secrets Act and couldn’t let on before now. Then this geophysicist found out...’
‘Hang the Secrets Act. What was it?’
‘Ireland and Great Britain are moving.’
There was a strained silence from the gathering. Had it been something caused by industry, traffic pollution or government indifference they would have erupted with anger. However, being confronted so baldly with an impossibility, their indignation was subdued. For pure implausibility this knocked all previous natural disasters and present ecological destruction into a cocked hat.
Great Aunt Fran, who was not usually allowed a word in edgeways once the momentum of debate was underway, took the opportunity to observe, ‘I thought it seemed to be getting warmer.’
The others were eventually able to take it Zoë’s revelation - all except Julia. It may have been her idea, but it didn’t mean she had to believe it.
‘As far as I can find out, there’s no explanation for it,’ announced Zoë. ‘The government probably intended to keep it to themselves for as long as they could, no doubt in the hope the UK’s drift south west would eventually stop.’
‘Wouldn’t it be nice to be on the same latitude as the South of France,’ smiled Great Aunt Fran, dreaming of some ancient ancestor who used to have a vineyard there.
Zoë was not to be placated that easily. ‘The Americans and Russians must have been aware of this days ago, but we, stupid Brits, were going to be the last to know.’
‘Who’s going to believe us when we tell them?’ asked Nicholas, a younger and more pragmatic member of the brood.
Zoë thought for a moment. ‘We’ll have to get our hands on some pictures. They can’t control aerial photographers - Or we could find an astronomer.’
‘They look up at the sky,’ Julia reminded her. ‘Though I suppose it used to depend on how drunk Yuri was. He did spend a lot of time on the ground.’
‘Yuri?’
‘Friend of Mum’s. He stopped drinking a few weeks ago, though, and they’ve gone off together somewhere.’
In view of the gravity of the immediate topic, Julia’s revelation was politely ignored.
‘Why would the Earth want to start moving its land masses about like that anyway?’ asked a neighbour. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any point in it.’
‘Pollution,’ said Zoë. ‘She is probably at last beginning to react against the way we’ve been corrupting her oceans and atmosphere.’
‘Why not just have a massive flood and drown all of us?’
‘Not so loud dear,’ warned Great Aunt Fran. ‘You don’t want to give her ideas.’
‘Did you see the news last night?’ asked Aunt Anne.
‘You and Julia are the only ones who ever watch television.’
‘It said something about a volcano suddenly going out.’
‘Going out?’
‘Yes. There it was, all ready to erupt according to seismic readings then, suddenly, it swallowed its lava.’ There was a strange silence. ‘Well, I thought it rather odd.’ She went back to her knitting.
Zoë recovered her train of thought. ‘We’ll have to mobilise.’
‘Oh, the phone bill,’ came a groan from behind the clicking needles.
‘Every member available is to try and find out what they can. Don’t tell any politicians or Greenpeace until we have something. We’ll make a pamphlet and sent it to the press ourselves.’
‘All those wasted trees...’