Chapter 18

“The dear man doesn’t want to be seen paying the food bills, as it embarrasses him. I think he imagines that as the Queen doesn’t carry money or credit card for purchases, neither should he, as a Queen’s Counsel!”

This got her a laugh, and Hubert Dangerfield made no comment at all when he heard of it. He didn’t view it as funny.

On the day appointed, their busload arrived at the air base and were astonishingly waved through as soon as Reginald Robertson produced his I.D. The Personalia had vouched for this busload, and The Personalia’s word was accepted as unquestionable.

The bus driver followed his instructions, taking his civilian passengers to the terminal for processing. This was remarkably easy, as it was primarily confirmation of identity and allocation of seating on the charter aircraft that was to carry them to Ascension Island. This flight was unusual as a one-off, in that all the passengers were one party. As soon as the passengers with their luggage were all aboard, the aircraft took off once the base gave it an available take-off slot. The charter flight had to fit in beside military take-offs and landings.

The long flight of over eight hours soon found most of the party asleep in their seats. The infants were quickly lulled into somnolence by the aircraft’s steady engine thrumming. That respite allowed their mothers to take the opportunity to follow suit. Elizabeth and Sidra, Reg’s mid-teen daughters, found plenty to talk about in their adjoining seats, mostly speculation about life in the human colony on an alien planet, but eventually they too drifted off to slumberland.

The pilot’s announcement woke those who were still sleeping many hours later as he approached the island. He told them which side they could look out from if they wanted to view the island from a great height. It began as a small dot on the vast Atlantic ocean below, but soon expanded into a volcanic peak surrounded by ash plains near sea level.

The pilot explained that higher up was tinged green by introduced trees such as Norfolk pine planted in the days of wooden ships, in anticipation of a need for future masts. Bamboo stands crowned the top of the dead volcano, and at a lower level were Mexican thorn mesquite bushes planted by BBC engineers in 1966 which had since spread around the lower volcanic ash fields and were now seen as invasive and in need of cutting back or eradication.

He stopped talking as they got closer to Wideawake Airfield. Its massive runway, currently one of the longest in the world, had once been extended from a standard length to accommodate space shuttles in an emergency landing. There was no sign of any alien spacecraft near the runway, which surprised many of the passengers. Asking an air hostess about this, they were advised to look at the water instead.

Sure enough, there was a massive machine, the size of a ship, sitting beside the tiny pier. Someone said, “A ship, rather than a spaceship?”

The hostess said patiently, having explained this many times before, “You know how the American spacecraft land on the water when they come down? This craft uses the water in both directions: landing and take-off.”

Not surprisingly, she got, “Oh, I see,” despite the enquirer not seeing at all how this could work.

Their landing on the extensive runway was very straightforward, due to the quiet weather that normally persisted, and the small amount of traffic currently using the base.

It had been different in 1982, when Wideawake Airfield became the busiest airfield in the world for a time, during the short-lived Falklands War. Long-distance bombing runs took place from here, with a single Vulcan bomber flying over 12,000 kilometres non-stop to the Falklands and back, refuelled seven times on the way south by a succession of eleven Victor tankers, converted from bombers, performing an aerial dance over the South Atlantic; a typical stage was two tankers being topped up by another that then returned to take on a new load for refuelling the other tankers on the way back. The farthest refuelling of the Vulcan was a few hundred miles from the Falklands, and then another Victor refuelled it again a few hundred miles north on the way back home. The whole process needed many tanker movements over the entire 16-hour bomber flight, mostly on the way south. The bomber, once it had dropped its 21,000-pound load, was lighter and needed fewer refuellings on the way home, but the first one back was vital. When Black Buck Six’s Vulcan was on its way home, its refuelling probe broke during an attempted refuelling, leaving it to either ditch in the Atlantic with no hope of rescue or divert to Brazil. They chose Brazil after dumping all sensitive material overboard.

Brazilian air control at first refused landing permission as being from a combatant country, but the pilot notified the operators that they were almost out of fuel, so either they landed, or they would crash into the airport; your choice! They were told to land, but they would be impounded for the duration of the conflict. They landed with ten minutes of fuel left in the tanks.

The pilot seemed impressed at this exploit he was retelling for the umpteenth time.

Their own jet aircraft landed smoothly on the hot tarmac, and taxied to the passenger terminal – what there was of it. There was no need of a large terminal building these days.

They disembarked and were collected by local vehicles, for movement to the floating Landership at the pier. When they got close they found the wedge-shaped craft was much larger than the aircraft that had brought them to Ascension, but had no windows to look out of, and just an entry hatch high up in the side. An airfield-style mobile stairway was used to get up to the hatch, and then they stepped inside.

A disembodied voice welcomed them aboard, and asked them to proceed to the passenger cabin and select their seats. These proved to be almost identical to normal aircraft seats, complete with standard seat belts. For the babies, there were seats with car-type backward-facing baby chairs already installed, so the child just needed to be strapped in. It looked like this spaceship had been prepared for the specific needs of this party of passengers.

Elizabeth whispered to Sidra, “Where is the pilot? Why didn’t he show himself when we got on board? Is he too alien?”

Sidra had been making enquiries about the Personalia, and answered, “The pilot IS the spaceship, Elizabeth. Think of it as a computer in charge of the spaceship, except it is more like a human being than a computer. The Personalia are aliens all right, but alien spaceships!”

The voice returned, speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Folks, may I introduce myself. My choice of name is Henry the eighth : that is the eighth Landership named Henry; nothing to do with English royalty. As Elizabeth Robertson has just discovered, I AM your Landership. The Personalia are a race of electronic personalities built into spaceships, so we normally live in the space between planets. Landerships have the capability to land and take-off again, but the Base ships - you can think of them as mother ships – live in space permanently.

If you have any immediate and necessary questions, please ask them one at a time, and I will answer them, but if you want detailed answers, please wait until you are on Rehome, which will not be long. You can phone the number of The Personalia at any time in the future, and we will be happy to answer your enquiries.”

No-one ventured a question, afraid to appear ignorant, so the voice went on, “There are toilet facilities in the corner of the cabin, where the door is marked with male and female figures, but if you can wait, more commodious facilities are available once we are in orbit and transfer to the base ship. We leave as soon as you are all belted in and declare yourselves comfortable, and the infants similarly prepared.”

Two minutes later, the slight movement at the pier from the passing of small waves ceased ocurring, and the ship steadied, solid as if on land. A moment later, there was a movement as the spaceship maneouvred away from the pier then headed out to sea, still completely rock-steady. The voice explained, “We are moving on our anti-gravity motors, half a metre above the sea, until we reach our take-off lane. We start with water pulsing, then it will become noiser when I engage our rocket motors.”

There was an immediate pulse of thrust as the ship sucked up seawater and shot it ot rearwards at a high pressure, adding impetus to the craft. This only lasted a short time before it switched to rockets, and the muted roar told them they were moving much faster. The craft tilted upwards as the rockets pushed it forward at speed, and the shuttle-type shape turned it into a flying body heading at a shallow angle towards the sky and space.

The rockets continued for some time as the craft continued towards orbit, then cut off the moment Henry the Eighth judged it had achieved the required velocity for orbit.

“Please do not release your seat belts as you might fly off your seat, with no gravity holding you down. This is for your own safety. We will be meeting our base ship shortly, and when gravity is engaged you will transfer to the base ship on your own feet.”

Frances, seated next to Reginald, remarked, “The voice sounds so very human, darling. It doesn’t sound so alien, as you might expect of a new arrival at our planet.”

Before Reg could say anything, the voice declared, “Mrs Frances Robertson, The Peronalia have been in this star system for three centuries or more, although it is only a few years since we first spoke with humans. We have learned several human languages, and those of several non-human species as well, one of which is currently sharing the planet Rehome at the invitation of the Governor.”

Frances gasped, “That is almost too much information. I think I will leave my other remarks for later.”

Reg grinned. “Good thinking, my love.”

Another few minutes was spent coasting steadily into orbit and catching up with the base ship. Reg suddenly thought, ‘If this Landership is huge, what size can its base, its mother ship, be? It must be multiples of this size.’

The Landership smoothly moved to connect with the gigantic mother ship, more smoothly than any human would have managed. Shortly thereafter, gravity returned in the Landership and the connecting hatches opened, revealing a short enclosed tube walkway between the two ships. The voice invited everyone to take off their straps and walk through into the base ship.

While others walked through, the wives retrieved their children and carried them through with them. Not everyone was carrying their luggage, but small machines trundled through into the Landership and began picking up the remaining luggage. The voice announced that the extra luggage would be taken through to the cabin where they would sit for the next leg of the journey, and that the people should sit on the chair train that was arriving for them.

Sure enough, a hatch opened in one walll and a connected line of basic seating appeared. “The first ten people should seat themselves and put on the safety straps. You must keep your arms and hands to your sides, as you will be moving through a narrow tunnel to the main cabin. If you wish to lose hands or arms, just stick them out and they will be ripped off; you have been warned.

As soon as the seat train returns, the next ten can go through, until you are all in the main cabin. The Landership will now disengage.”

As he/she spoke, the main hatches closed, allowing the Landership to leave on its next task. The passengers were moved in batches to the main cabin, currently configured for humans. There, they found rows of seats similar to airline seating, and quickly settled into them as before. The young mothers were told that they could hold their infants in their laps, as there would be no sudden movements.

A new ‘voice’ declared that he was Charles the Second, and was their ‘cruise ship’ between Earth and Rehome, where they would be transported down to the surface by another Landership.

When the voice asked for questions, he got the inevitable, “How long will it take for us to get to Rehome and do we have to go into hibernation for the journey?”

“No hibernation. It is quicker than many airline flights. We transfer from the vicinity of Earth to the vicinity of Rehome in not much more than an instant, using a special technology we discovered hundreds of years ago. The total time is longer because we have to move to a position where we can make the transfer safely, then at the other end we have to move from the arrival point to where we can meet the next Landership for going down to the planet’s surface.”

And also. “It is safe on Rehome? Are there animals and other things we have to beware of there?”

The ship answered, “Yes, just like you have to be careful of cats and dogs, spiders and jellyfish on Earth. Did these put you off wanting to live on your planet Earth?”

The questioner said, “If you put it that way, perhaps I should have asked, is Rehome any more dangerous than Earth?”

“And asked that way, I can tell you that as far as we know, apart from the oceans, Rehome is safer to live on than Earth. There are monster marine animals in the oceans, so we would not advise any long distance ocean swimming.”

That brought out a laugh from many of the listeners, and the low-level fear of the unknown swiftly decreased. The questions stopped and normal chatting resumed among the bemused travellers.

A while later there was a slight disturbance to their eyes, but nothing more, then Charles informed them to their surprise, “We have arrived in the vicinity of Rehome. Please wait a similar amount of time for us to move to an orbit around Rehome, and the Landership will meet us there, where it is already in orbit.”

Time appeared to move faster, now that they knew what to expect, and soon they were announced for trans-shipment to the next Landership. Everyone tended to choose the same seat positions as on the other Landership, and this time the voice was different, softer, more feminine.

“Hello, I am Genevive, but you can call me Jenny if you have any questions. I do not expect any questions on priority access to the toilets, but generally please allow the mothers of small children to be first to the facilities if they are in need. I am informed that recent mothers have a lower capacity than other adults! We have about five minutes before we leave orbit, so that we can arrive at the city easily. We will be landing on the water near the beach, then coasting up the beach for you to disembark satisfactorily. A mobile stairway is kept there so that you can get safely down to the sand. Any luggage you are unable to carry will be collected and brought to the hatch by our machines. It is up to humans to move the luggage from there to the sand. A warning: customs people will be on the watch for any living or dead creatures you might have brought with you. Any that are found will automatically be destroyed, to avoid contamination of the planet. There is no reprieve possible. If you know of any such contraband, please notify us now.”

A petulant Sidra admitted, “I have a packet of trail mix in my pocket. Does that count?”

Genevive informed her, “No, such foods are already processed and so are non-viable genetic material. Viable seeds of approved varieties of plants are not allowed until irradiated to kill off any bacteria or viruses on them. Seeds for planting as crops are purchased in bulk on Earth and fumigated before shipping to Rehome. Pets are a definite and final NO. We don’t want a planet overrun with cats, for example; they tend to kill nesting birds and small animals, according to history. Rats are even worse, but we make sure no rat ever gets here.”

Assured that none of these problems were with them, the passengers and their luggage were decanted after the Landership ran up onto the gently sloping beach and settled on the sand. Each person in turn would be identified, interrogated by a customs official and then granted interim approval of settlement, to be formalised at the administartion department later.

Reg made sure he was head of the line for interview, and immediately asked about land grants and what if any say the settler had in the location of the grant.He was informed politely, “The administration department has a section that deals with land allocations, so the staff of that section will discuss with you what, if any, land grant you are entitled to receive, and the conditions under which you get the grant. Normally each family group gets a land parcel sufficient for feeding the family with some farming input. Previous expertise helps considerably in that decision.”

Reg was quick to point out that his family was not formally united yet. “We are here to get married, as your laws allow for plural marriage. Then we will formally ask for our land grant.”

The man smirked, “Ah, so you have two women you want to wed? That is not unusual here.”

Reg frowned, saying, “No, not two; eight.”

“Eight?” the man was astonished. “You want to marry eight women? What do they have to say about that? Marriage is a cooperative enterprise, I’ll have you know, and on Rehome, it is permanent.”

“They all want to be my wives. They already have my babies, by their own choice.”

“You have eight children?”

“Yes..., no, ten. We have two teenagers; one is adopted, the other is the daughter of a more recent addition to our family group.”

“Well, this is extremely unusual, to say the least. Are there any others in your household?”

“It depends on what you mean by household. The parents of most of us are present to witness the wedding ceremony, and we have with us our live-in babysitter – or rather nanny - but she is probably due her own settler status and land. We hope she can get land next to ours, so we can assist her in building her house for when she stops being our children’s nanny and finds her own spouse. Oh, and our cook and housekeeper are twins, cousins of my first wife. They have brought their husbands with them, as one is a plumber and the other an electrician.”

“Excellent! Those we can use. Does that mean you will want them to help build your house?”

“Possibly; it depends on what work they are offered. The parents of two of my ladies are a farming couple, so they wish to settle here too. The other parents will be returning to Earth after the wedding.”

“Thank you, Mr Robertson. We still have to interview each individual to confirm what you claim. Please move up to the roadway beside the bus we have waiting to take you to your temporary accomodation.”

A disgruntled Reg moved up to the roadway and moped as he watched the others slowly be interviewed by the officials. Annoyingly, to him, the girls insisted that their parents take precedence while they attended to their children’s needs for either amusement or feeding, or simple cuddling.

To pass the time, Reg spoke to the driver of their vehicle.

“You got lumbered with this chore, did you?”

“Nope. I am one of the owners of the bus service. We have the contract for collecting new arrivals and taking them to Admin for processing. There can be several Landerships each day. This one is out of the normal sequence. Are you special or something?”

“Nothing special. We were invited by The Personalia to come to Rehome to get married.”

“They invited you to come here to get married? That is unusual; do you have special talents to make you valuable to the colony?”

“That may be it. We: me and the girls are mostly university students, but we ran our own company in England, and seemed to make a good go of it, for the university is buying us out.”

“Impressive.You making a packet from the deal?”

“Possibly. We have left it to our company lawyer to complete the deal. He is with us for the wedding, so the deal will wait until he gets back and completes the negotiations.”

“A wedding as well; congratulations. Which of these girls is your intended?” He gestured at the females on the beach.

Reg admitted, “The ones with the babies.”

The driver was not listening attentively to his words, and made a quick count. “There looks to be about eight with babies. Which are yours?”

After a pregnant pause, Reg finally came out with,”All of them.”

“All? Eight? How did you manage to convince so many girls to marry you?”

“It was not like that. They convinced me that we should be together; not the other way around.”

The man laughed shortly. “And they convinced you to give them babies too, eh?”

“Not exactly. They intended to wait until they graduated before having any babies, but one jumped the gun, and after that pre-emption, the others decided not to wait, provided we could get a nanny for the babies so the girls could continue their studies. One of the other girls with us, the single teenager without her own baby, is our nanny; the other two teenage girls standing together are my daughters; well one stepdaughter and one adopted daughter.”

“Damn! A ready-made family as well! You do appear to live an interesting life, young man. What are you, early twenties?”

“That is about it. When I started university, I had never had a girlfriend and did not know how to act in social circles. I was academically clever but an only child of a mother who did not love me and wouldn’t let me socialise. I had no social skills to speak of. You would not have liked me then. A Lothario I was not!”

The man had no idea of the name Lothario, so said nothing, and the conversation died.

Middle-aged couples started to trudge across the sand to the roadway, so Reg acted as an usher, gesturing as to where they should come. Mr and Mrs LeBrun were first to arrive, and Mr LeBrun stood to look over towards the alien city.

“Is this the city where the wedding is to take place?” he asked Reg, who shrugged.

“I presume so. I have not been told yet. I expect this ‘Administration’ department will have the details for us.”

The bus driver chipped in, “They will have it all arranged. Marrying eight women means a longer ceremony than normal, so it will have been specially booked for you, either today or tomorrow, I would guess.”