Passage to Paradise Page 2

  “The necessary information is in your briefing documents, but I can tell you what you need to know. Dandrobia’s gravity is 80 per cent of Earth’s, but this won’t have any long-lasting physical effect on you for the brief time you will be there.

  “The dandrobians have been confined to their planet for thousands of Earth years. They are one of the oldest civilisations in the galaxy, and they once ruled it, invading, colonising and terrorising its citizens to its farthest reaches. After a long war the dandrobians were finally defeated and the Unity took over, founding the Transgalactic Council to facilitate the day-to-day running of galaxy affairs. After their defeat all dandrobian technology was confiscated and their society returned to a pre-industrial level of development. They are strictly prohibited from developing new technology.

  “Now, your assignment involves one of the species tyrannised by the dandrobians, the squashpumps. Some time ago this species demanded a formal apology and reparations for the wrongs they suffered under dandrobian rule. As is usual in these cases, the settlement was reached only after a long period of negotiation. Unfortunately, the Liaison Officer assigned to mediate has been called away to help deal with the placktoid crisis, and could not witness the final agreement. That is your task.

  “This is an easy, straightforward assignment, appropriate for an officer still within their probationary period, as you are. In view of your inexperience, I summoned you here to speak to you face to face. Your behaviour today has confirmed my reservations were correct and your previous manager overstated your abilities. Are you aware that if you fail an assignment during your probationary period you must attend remedial training, and if you fail that you are dismissed? Perhaps you concur this task may be beyond you?”

  Carrie did not answer. She always struggled to pay attention when people spoke to her at length, and she was distracted by the beautiful scene playing out in the hologram. Dave elbowed her, snapping her out of her trance.

  “What?”

  “She thinks you can’t do the job,” he whispered. “She’s offering you the chance of turning it down.”

  “Oh no,” Carrie said, her eyes on the people laughing and having fun on the beach, “I can do it, no problem. Don’t worry about me.”

  Dave sighed and rolled his eyes.

  Chapter Three – Off to a Bad Start

  Back home, in Carrie’s kitchen, she hoisted her Transgalactic Intercultural Community Crisis Liaison Officer’s handbag higher on her shoulder.

  “Now you’re sure you’ve got everything?” asked Dave.

  “Of course I’ve got everything.” She silently wished her friend would stop being so bossy, though, in truth, the prospect of travelling to Dandrobia didn’t seem as enticing as it had while Errruorerrrrrhch was explaining the assignment. “This is all I have to take, you know that. So you’re going to look after Toodles and Rogue for me?”

  “They don’t need looking after. You’ll be back only a minute or two after you leave.”

  “I mean, just in case...I don’t come back.”

  “Don’t be silly. Of course you’ll come back. It’s only a meeting, Carrie.”

  She nodded. He was right. This assignment was nothing like her first. After being submerged in the custard-like oootoon and fighting the placktoid commanding officer, a giant intelligent office shredder, witnessing a statement of apology and reparations from the dandrobians to their former victims should be a piece of cake.

  Not only that, this time round she had studied the briefing information Errruorerrrrrhch had provided. She had learned her lesson about being uninformed, and she was not going to make the same mistake again, though the report on the dandrobians had been nearly as boring as the complaints procedures she had to follow in her call centre supervisor role. She did not understand much of it, that was the problem. She wasn’t one of the few humans who knew all about life on other planets and the whole Unity setup. There seemed to be lots to learn.

  One piece of information that had fascinated her was that the dandrobians were immortal. They had become masters of genetic manipulation eons ago, preventing themselves from aging and creating a kind of paradise where all their needs were met. The dandrobian representatives she was about to meet were the same aliens who had ruled the galaxy while humans still believed that the stars were gods.

  “Carrie? You only have a minute to go, you know?”

  “Yes, I’m ready.” She bit her lip. “I wish you were coming too.”

  “Your new boss made it very clear that I’m not allowed.”

  “I know, but still...” Carrie once more doubted that she could have made it through her previous assignment without her friend’s support. Could she do this alone, no matter how straightforward the job was?

  She hoisted her bag up again, and patted Rogue on the head. His long pink tongue flopped out and his tail thumped on the floor. Carrie had already said goodbye to Toodles and bore the scratches to prove it. Apparently her cat had not wanted to be disturbed from her sleep, but Carrie felt confident that, deep down, she was sad to see her go.

  The cupboard door beneath Carrie’s kitchen sink began to glow, and Carrie’s hand grew sweaty as she clutched her handbag’s strap. She was as prepared as she could be. If she messed this one up there was no one to blame but herself. Feeling sick, she said, “This is it, then.”

  With a bang, the cupboard door flew open. A swirling green mist appeared, transgalactic gateway to Dandrobia. The mist tugged at the air. Carrie swallowed. At least there was one thing to look forward to: Dandrobia seemed to be some kind of paradise. Wisps of mist drifted from the cupboard and lifted her hair, pulling it towards the vortex. Dave patted Rogue, who was barking at the green vapour. Toddles’ yowl echoed around the flat.

  Carrie stepped forward, but hesitated. She had remembered that her good friend Dave had a habit of taking things that did not belong to him. Though she had promised herself she would not say the words that were on her lips, but she couldn’t help it and they spilled out anyway. “While I’m gone, you won’t...you won’t...”

  “What? I won’t what?” Dave frowned.

  The green mist lifting her up, she said, “I know where everything is, you know.” She just had time to catch her friend’s glare before she was drawn under the sink.

  The last sounds she heard as she entered the gateway were Rogue’s fading bark and Dave calling, “I have a condition.”

  ***

  Landing on a pile of downy cushions, Carrie sank so deep that she was buried to her waist and only her legs were left free.

  “Mmmrf,” she said as she struggled to emerge, imagining what kind of a first impression she must be making on the dandrobians. They had been informed of her arrival and were no doubt watching her. In her mind’s eye she saw her plump, tightly clad, fluorescent legs wriggling in the air. The only upside was that the cushions and lower gravity made for a far softer landing than she was used to when travelling by transgalactic gateway.

  Strong hands gripped her and pulled her free, setting her firmly but gently on her feet. Sweeping her hair off her face, she found herself at eye-level with a large dandrobian bosom, draped in vivid green, silky material. Carrie craned her neck to look up at the creature’s face before turning in a circle to see the seven aliens waiting to greet her, smiling politely.

  In the recording Errruorerrrrrhch had shown her, the dandrobians had looked human-sized, but she now she realised her sense of scale had been wrong. Though dandrobian bodies and faces were very similar to humans, they were much taller, averaging about 220 centimetres.

  “Welcome to Dandrobia,” said the female who had extracted Carrie from the cushions. She was shorter than the others and had ebony hair that was piled on top of her head.

  Carrie gazed, open-mouthed, at the alien’s face. She was the most stunningly beautiful creature she had ever seen. With an effort, she closed her lower jaw. “Thank you, and thanks for providing the cushions.” As she studied the other dandrobians more closely, it was as
much as she could do to drag her eyes from one face to the next, their features were so even and perfectly proportioned. Strong, well-defined muscles lined each alien’s arms and neck, though their expressions were polite and mild.

  “Welcome to Dandrobia,” echoed the assembled aliens in a drawn-out, cooing tone.

  The silky material that covered their perfect physiques was in vivid, bright jewel shades that gleamed in the strong sunlight beaming through the windows of the hall. Each dandrobian also wore an identical shell-like, golden brooch, either clasping the material at their shoulders or elsewhere on their bodies. One dandrobian wore his in his hair.

  The room was long, wide, and empty but for the piled cushions, which, Carrie suddenly realised, were actually rounded, dense clumps of soft, dried moss. Like the dandrobians themselves, the room’s shape seemed in perfect proportion and was pleasing to look at. The walls bore brightly coloured friezes of dandrobians performing simple tasks. Both the images and the room seemed familiar to Carrie, though she couldn’t understand why.

  “This is our receiving hall, my dear,” said the ebony-haired woman, spreading her arm wide. “Please accompany us and we’ll take you to a retiring room where you may rest and prepare for the reconciliation meeting.”

  “Thank you” Carrie followed the dandrobians as they led the way out of the hall, her tense muscles relaxing. This was very different from her previous assignment. She shouldn’t have worried so much.

  Leaving the hall, the party stepped out onto deep green, fine, mossy turf that sank beneath their feet as they walked across it and sprang up behind, leaving no trace of footprints. Carrie felt strangely light as she walked in the low gravity. Surrounding them were single-story buildings, all as well-proportioned as the receiving hall, all decorated in rich colours. The source of the intense daylight was a large sun high in the sky, giving out pink-tinged beams.

  Other dandrobians were crossing the turf or lounging around outside. They all stopped what they were doing and watched Carrie. She also noticed several faces at windows, but the dandrobians did not seem at all aggressive or confrontational, only curious. Carrie wondered about their history. She had expected something quite different from these mild, relaxed aliens, something more intense and confrontational in their nature. Was this a case of the victor rewriting history, or maybe the Transgalactic Council’s information was simply wrong, as it had been before? In her previous assignment it had been up to her to find the truth about the oootoon.

  “Here we are,” said the female dandrobian and invited Carrie to enter a building. Inside was a single room containing a chaise longue large enough to accommodate a dandrobian. A tap was mounted on the wall, and in the centre of the room was a low table. A more simple yet tasteful room Carrie had never seen, but she drew back. On the floor just inside the threshold was a large, dirty grey slug.

  “Urgh,” she said, and picked up the slug between the tips of her finger and thumb. As she flicked it out onto the grassy sward, there was a collective gasp from the dandrobians.

  The female stuttered, “I-I would like you to meet the Foreign Secretary of the squashpumps.”

  Chapter Four – A Poor Reflection

  The squashpump Foreign Secretary had landed upside down about three metres away on the soft turf. The creature’s departing yell echoed in Carrie’s mind via the translator in her toolbox. Her hands flew to her mouth. She shut her eyes and thanked her lucky stars that her squeamishness about harming living creatures had prevented her from stamping on the squashpump official. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped as she ran to the creature’s side.

  About ten centimetres long and slimy as a slug, the squashpump wriggled as it tried to right itself, its pale grey underbelly undulating. Carrie squatted down to pick it up. “Put me down immediately,” shouted the creature. It had a broad Scottish accent, which sounded so odd, given its appearance, that Carrie grabbed her mouth again, this time trying to contain a snort of laughter. She did not succeed.

  After whipping around onto its front, the squashpump reared up so that the front end of its body was perpendicular to the ground. Or Carrie assumed it was the front end. The creature seemed to have no eyes, though a collection of moist stalks emerged from the raised end. It looked like a limp, wet toilet brush. Her stomach squirmed, but then the squashpump began to change colour. A rainbow of hues played over its skin, and Carrie’s opinion changed. The squashpump Foreign Secretary was in fact quite pretty. It spoke, rolling its Rs.

  “Y’are Transgalactic Intercultural Community—”

  “Yes, that’s me,” Carrie cut in. “I’m very, very sorry about that. I had no idea you were, well...”

  “Yes?” The tentacles wriggled.

  Carrie shifted to a kneeling position and bent down as low as she could. “...I’m just very sorry.”

  “We have a little time before the meeting is due to start, dear,” said the female dandrobian towering beside her. “Now that you and the Foreign Secretary have met, would you like to refresh yourself and prepare?”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Carrie, silently thanking the alien for providing a face-saving exit from the awkward situation. She stood and straightened her jumpsuit, which continued to pull in all the wrong places.“I’d love to. Unless...” She looked down at the diminutive squashpump, which remained half upright and sprouting its floppy stalks. “...Unless the Foreign Secretary would like me to carry her, or him, to the meeting place?”

  “No I wouldna,” came the Foreign Secretary’s terse reply.

  “Of course not,” said Carrie. “How stupid of me. Of course you’re perfectly capable of getting there all by yourself. I don’t know why I said that.”

  The Foreign Secretary gave no reply, and the dandrobians watched her gravely. In the growing silence Carrie cleared her throat and smiled tightly as she tried to force away the flush that was creeping across her cheeks.

  The ebony-haired female dandrobian silently gestured towards the doorway to the retiring room. Carrie gave a stiff bow, hoping that was what she was supposed to do, went inside and closed the door behind her, exhaling a long, slow breath. She threw herself onto the wooden chaise longue and buried her head in her arms. The action did not lessen the cringing feeling that gripped her.

  It hadn’t occurred to her to research the squashpumps’ appearance. She’d known what the dandrobians looked like and had assumed the squashpumps would look, well, alien in some kind of obvious way. The briefing information on them had not mentioned what their physical form was, and Errruorerrrrrhch hadn’t said anything either. Maybe squashpumps were so well known throughout the galaxy it hadn’t occurred to anyone to include a description. But how could she, a mere Earthling, a member of a species that had not sufficiently advanced to join the Unity, be expected to know what a squashpump looked like?

  She groaned and turned onto her back, gazing up at the ceiling. She hadn’t got off to a good start, not good at all. If word of her behaviour got back to her new boss, Errruorerrrrrhch would see it as a confirmation that Carrie was incompetent. She sat up. She would just have to try harder from now on.

  On the table were a beaker and a plate holding circles of creamy bread. She reached over and broke off a hunk. Taking a bite, she let out an involuntary “Mmmm.” The taste was not like any bread she had ever eaten. It was warm, sweet, rich and soft, like cake but without any cloying fattiness. And it melted away in her mouth like chocolate before settling satisfyingly in her stomach, feeling like the healthiest thing she had ever eaten.

  Wondering what kind of drink the tap supplied, she picked up the beaker. It was made of a translucent material that shimmered like mother-of-pearl. Holding the beaker beneath the spout, Carrie turned on the tap and a clear, yellow-tinged liquid flowed out. The flavour was sweet but complex, and it slipped easily down her throat. She refilled the beaker, but as she tipped back her head to take another drink, she stopped. Sighing, she returned the beaker to the table. She had caught sight her reflection in a mirror
that stretched from floor to ceiling in the corner of the room. It was the reflection of a short, plump, messy-haired woman wearing a bright orange jumpsuit that was much too small and had grass stains on the knees.

  Shoulders drooping, she went to the mirror for a closer inspection. Rising up out of her hair was a stubborn kink that had defeated her attempts to blow dry it flat, and the rest of her hair was a mess of wayward strands. She peered at her face. As always, her pudgy nose looked too large against her small chin, and her eyes did not quite match up. The ill-fitting jumpsuit highlighted her other imperfections. The zip was threatening to burst, and her hips had pulled the material into a crease below her belly.

  What had possessed her to choose a uniform that was the size she wanted to be rather than the size she actually was? She tried squatting and doing some practice kicks. The jumpsuit seams threatened to tear, and she had to stop. Her uniform would severely impede her movement if she had to call upon her martial arts skills. It was unlikely she would need to fight for this assignment, but her long years of training in Bagua Zhang had proven useful previously and might do so again.

  There was a knock at the door. As Carrie turned, the female dandrobian opened it and peeked in. “The meeting’s about to begin,” she said as she entered, her emerald green garment sweeping the floor. Carrie was struck again by the alien’s beauty. Strands of rich ebony cascaded from the hair piled on her head, and her wide eyes were perfectly balanced by her bow-shaped lips. Her bare arms tapered gently down to long, graceful fingers. Carrie suddenly felt plumper and plainer than ever.

  “Transgalactic Intercultural—”

  “Call me Carrie.”

  The alien smiled. “Thank you. It’s much nicer to be friendly, don’t you think? And you must call me Apate. Are you refreshed, Carrie?”

  “Yes, thanks.” She went to pick up her toolbox from the table, then paused as she realised she had understood the dandrobian even though she had not been close to her translator. “You can speak English?”