Margo
wasn’t sure if Chip was trying to placate the Bug Division. She hoped not. Not
that she wasn’t worried about their discontent, but she didn’t like the thought
of Chip being aware of just how organised it had become, and the need to do
something about it. What had she
walked in on in that office…? It did seem as if Chip was trying to build
bridges though. He’d chosen Kernik, Ochon’s brother, as part of the landing
party, a role far above Kernik’s position as assistant engineer.
Kernik
was barely even looking at Chip, glowering at him only to make sure he put at
least a metre between the two of them. Margo slotted into place between them to
make the gap less obvious. They were then joined by Treego Dart “leaping” into
place beside Kernik, and Gerry McCaw waddling up next to Chip.
The five
of them standing there ought to have looked impressive, Margo thought. They
were dressed in dark grey uniforms, made up of a thick woollen jacket, a
long-sleeved undershirt and some loose trousers. Even Kernik was clad in a
miniaturised version of the outfit. Their fists were clenched and their feet
were steady. They were members of the Jungle Corps Space Team standing proud in
front of their vessel, which had been ordered not to attempt take-off under
these risky conditions – landing had been dicey enough. They did look bloody
impressive.
Unfortunately, about fifty metres away from them loomed the sweeping,
sprawling, four-floored Beneos Palace.
“Pretty,
eh?” Chip murmured. Margo wondered if he was disappointed with being outshone
as well, but she doubted he was in much a mood to care about the majesty of
their team.
The palace was littered with windows like the
top of Kernik’s head seemed to be littered with eyes. Margo wondered who was
currently sitting at one of them, watching their progress along the smooth
marble drive. The palace’s width was immediately obvious, but as they got
closer Margo began to understand properly why McCaw was so excited about the
ceilings. Not only did the building seem to grow by about three feet with every
step they took, but she realised that what appeared to be four floors was in
fact only two. Each floor was lined with two rows of windows, instead of just
one. That meant that the first floor stretched up to half the height of the
monumental domed roof, which glinted in the sunlight. No, McCaw was not going
to be banging his head on the ceiling today.
They
were greeted by a short dumpy figure who shoved the enormous arched door open,
while barely even reaching the doorknob. This wasn’t any great indication
concerning the figure, however, as there were at least two metres between the
doorknob and the ground. As the figure started shuffling towards them, Margo
realised it was doing so in a series of short hops. Even Treego Dart had to be
forced to admit this highly resembled the movement of a frog.
“Jungle
Force?” The being’s voice was the high whine of a human child’s, and its
height, it turned out, was not much taller than that of a child.
“Yes …
yes, we are,” Chip said. He seemed to be searching for something, presumably a
name or a title with which to address this being. It had no legs, its arms were
long and its fingers looked dextrous. It seemed to waver slightly in the
breeze, but also didn’t seem at all put off by this fact. In fact, there was a
fluid sway to how it held itself that suggested it revelled in the air’s
movement.
“Come,”
the servant said, turning around and leading them, bump by bump, into the
palace. It still offered no name for itself, just added, “The Archess is
waiting.”
Dart’s
hops seemed longer than normal as they were led through hall after hall of oil
paintings and marble sculptures. Maybe he was trying to compensate. Margo would
have recognised the surroundings of the halls from countless movies the humans
had uploaded to the Jungle Corps servers, had all the statues not been tied
down with rope the width of her leg and all the pictures not been duct-taped to
the walls. Margo figured that made sense; with the gravity fluctuations
the statues would be liable to fly up and smash into the ceilings.
Their
progress was slow, but thankfully their guide soon brought them to a stop.
“This is
the sitting room,” he explained, “Normally my mistress would take company
upfloor in the Great Hall, but as you may have guessed, anything ‘up’ is out of
the question at the moment.”
He
tugged at a bright red waistcoat hugging the upper half of his form, then
raised a hand to knock on the door. Pausing, he turned to Chip. “You do know how to address the ruler of
Beneos, right?”
Margo
frowned as Chip nodded and stared straight ahead. He said, “I’ve been
informed.”
“And can
you…?” the servant trailed off and shrugged.
“If I
can’t,” said Chip, “I hope my humility will be ample compensation.”
Margo
and the three other Jungle Corps officers stared at Chip but he kept his eyes
on the door as the creature swung it open.
There
was a startled gasp from the other side of Chip, where McCaw was standing, with
his eyes wide and pointed steadfastly upwards.
“Holy
flightfeathers,” he whispered, “It’s just so high.”
Margo
smiled, glad that he hadn’t been disappointed. Maybe he’d get the chance before
he left to swoop and dive properly around the room without fear of plummeting
to the hardwood floor or being smashed into the arched ebony cornices.
The
‘Archess’ was perched on the edge of a crudely constructed wooden chair. She
wore a thin maroon dress, that reached down from her shoulders and seemed to
have some sort of padding around the sides to support her arms. Her hair
swooped around over her right shoulder in one thick layer of auburn and her
features were not far from human. If not for her choice of chair, she’d have
looked as regal as her admittedly rather vague title suggested she should.
Margo
cringed as she looked at where the Archess sat. She could almost hear Dart
scoffing at the chair. There were splinters fraying off the edges, all of which
stuck out behind each other. It was as if each had been carved by a different
carpenter, and each carpenter had been given a different specification of its
dimensions. It was not altogether an overt display of wealth.
“Your
eminence,” the servant who had led them there said. “The visitors have
arrived.”
It
folded into a deep bow that brought its nose almost to the floor. Margo thought
that odd, given the state of the Archess’ throne.
Glancing around the room, however, Margo
spotted several elegant pale blue chairs mounted to the walls at varying
heights, as well as a couple hanging by the ceiling from metal chains. That
suggested that the chair in which the Archess sat had been thrown together
quickly so there was a seat available to her other than the floor. Even as she
gazed at the elegant wingbacks, though, there were workers in harnesses taking
them down. It would seem that anything likely to plummet to the ground with a
sudden surge in gravity was too dangerous to remain in the Archess’ palace, no
matter the danger the workers were currently in to remove them.
As long as it was the servant in the
harness, Margo thought. She and the rest of the crew knew perfectly well
how they’d like to address rulers of
planets who were so careless with the safety of their servants. Something in
the way Chip’s shoulders kept alternately tensing and shaking, however, told
Margo today would not be the day they plucked up their courage and lived out
that fantasy.
“Captain, I presume?” the Archess said.
Chip
nodded and brought them all to a halt with the raising of his right paw. Margo
fixed her eyes on him, barely blinking. What was going on? She watched as he
took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, then performed a remarkably crisp
backflip.
He
raised his eyes to the Archess’ and said, “I hope my greeting is sufficient to
extend to the rest of my crew?”
The
Archess nodded. “Yes, very good of you to perform your duties while
groundbound. And thank you for coming so fast – and of course, for risking our
pesky gravity fields with your ship. The people we spoke to at your Earth
seemed most concerned about its safety. I hear it’s something of a valuable
model.”
Kernik
snorted but nobody acknowledged the noise. Margo sympathised. If you already
had little faith in your mission control it probably didn’t help if mission
control sent a message millions of lightyears away to an alien ruler to inquire
after the welfare of a spacecraft, instead of you.
“Indeed,
your Eminence,” Chip replied. He straightened and adjusted his jacket. “That
does, however, mean that it comes equipped with state of the art scanners,
electromagnets and even a couple of burrow-drills. How may we be of service?”
Chip
smiled and held his arms wide, encompassing the crew members lined up on either
side of him. His voice was warm and there was no suggestion of any warning to Kernik
to co-operate. Two weeks ago, Chip had been renowned amongst Jungle Corps as
fiercely proud of his crew, and Margo thought even Kernik would have to admit
it was nice to be acknowledged.
The
Archess was frowning. “Honestly, we’re not really sure where to start. Hodda!”
– the servant who’d led them in bumped forward from behind them – “Where are
the reports?”
“On the
table beside you, my lady.” Hodda bowed as he finished speaking and stayed down
for at least four seconds before straightening up.
Margo
was glad to see that the Archess didn’t order the servant to place it in her
hand, even if she didn’t quite have the humility to display any embarrassment
about her mistake. Margo had dealt with hereditary rulers before, as ‘Eminence’
and ‘my lady’ seemed to suggest she was. This one clearly didn’t have the
makings of a great leader, but Margo was hopeful she wouldn’t be constantly in
their way as Daigos, the emperor of a large continent on the last planet they’d
visited, had been.
The
Archess scanned the front page of the file she’d picked up, then nodded and
held it out for Chip. He covered the two steps between them quickly and took
the file from her. He too offered it only a cursory glance, which Margo thought
seemed a bit insensitive. The people’s lives were being turned literally upside
down. Then Chip passed the file to McCaw, the only environmental science
specialist among them, and Margo realised Chip just didn’t understand a word of
it. McCaw took the file in his beak, then dropped it on the ground and opened
it with his talons.
“If
there’s something interfering with your gravitational field, we should be able
to locate the source.” He nodded and kicked the file closed again.
At this,
Chip’s head jerked around to face McCaw. His eyes were bulging, but McCaw only
frowned and dropped his gaze to the floor. Margo was willing to bet he knew as
little what Chip meant by that as she did. Chip wasn’t letting it go, though.
“Gerry,”
he said, softly, though there was really no point. The room was silent; the
Archess would hear them no matter how quietly he spoke. He must have realised
this because he raised his voice and said, “Archess, is there somewhere Officer
McCaw and I could discuss something?”
The
Archess raised her eyebrows but only pointed him towards a small alcove in the
far corner of the room. There was a folded up screen in perfect position to
allow a private conversation if drawn over. Presumably, that was its explicit
purpose.
For
several long, long moments, the only noise in the entire room was the sound of
McCaw’s talons on the floorboards as Chip led him over to it – Chip’s paws
carried him soundlessly wherever he went. Then, without warning, a door burst
open and two miniature versions of whatever species the Archess and Hodda
belonged to zipped through the air and landed with wobbly skids behind the
Archess’ chair.
The
Archess sighed. “Allow me to introduce the Master and Mistress of the
household. My daughter, Minia, and my son, Oran. Stop it, you two, unless you
want to be thrown against the ceiling by the next gravity fluctuation!”
The two
heads peeked out from behind the chair, and were then followed by the
streamlined bodies of two beings who had been born to fly. Margo glanced down
to her right and stepped a little closer to Kernik. She gulped and hoped she
wouldn’t have to save him from becoming these royal children’s lunch before
Chip was finished interrogating McCaw about … well, about God knew what. There
was already a fair bit of indistinct grunting that could be heard floating
across the room. Margo hoped it didn’t develop into anything … howlier…
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