CHAPTER 1

"Any luck with the anti-gravity field, Sparg?"

"I'm afraid not, Zarkos. I cannot get it to functioneffectively. We will have to land somewhere in order to carryout the necessary repairs."

"Are there any inhabited planets nearby?"

"Why? Do you want to buy one?" asked Sparg.

"Could we spare the humour for a more relaxingmoment?"

"Seeing as you insist," said Sparg as he exited the `CheapPlanets' catalogue on his Galaxy-wide web.

"Good. What can you tell me about our immediateoptions?" queried Zarkos as he eyed the increasinglyerratic signals being emitted from the malfunctioning fieldactivation, pulsator unit.

"I was never very impressed with this version of theQuark-up-down-GT although it did have a lot of charm—upuntil now, that is. I have much more faith in the HadronInterstellar Automatic," said Sparg.

Zarkos was too busy to absorb Sparg's personalpreferences when it came to the choice of interplanetaryspacecraft. Priority number one was, after all, to findsomewhere to land—with no functional landing gear, anadded bonus to having the anti-gravity field malfunction.

"We can try Earth. It is within range and its inhabitantsare to our knowledge non-hostile and their technology isfairly advanced. With a little luck, we may even gain someassistance in our plight," said Sparg.

"Well, in that case, the best we can do is turn off the maingyro-thrusters and aim for your chosen planet. Once withinits atmosphere we can head for the nearest source of waterthat is in close proximity to the resources that we will require.We will need to hope for a gentle belly-flop not too farfrom the edge. We cannot chance landing on solid groundnow that the anti-gravity field has lost its full functionality;this craft will never survive the impact," said Zarkos, "not tomention the import tax!"

[chuckle]

"And not too deep either. If we are stuck there for anylength of time, we will need to replenish our oxygen supplyby sending up the enviroprobe. Mind you, I don't think thattheir atmosphere will really notice a wee siphoning off of itsprecious gases," said Sparg.

Although time was effectively everywhere, it was noton their side. They fed the data into their computer. Therewere six sets of co-ordinates that had come up on theirscreen suggesting possible locations within their range for acontrolled, forced landing.

"Choose one quickly!" said Zarkos, "you have twentyseconds."

"Okay. I think that this one looks the safest," said Sparg ashe stretched his long skinny index finger towards the targeton his 'touch screen', just off centre of the main control panel.

True to fate, as his anorexic digit was within a hair'sbreadth of the screen, the craft gave a sudden jolt. Jolts are bynature, sudden, regardless of where you are in the universe.

"Oh no! By Beezonk! I've hit the wrong set of co-ordinatesand the choice is effectively irreversible. There is not enoughtime left to reset the options. We are heading for Pond 51,wherever that is! Hold on guys," said Sparg as the craft leaptinto a new trajectory. "We could be in for a rough landing."

"Does that mean that we have the choice?" asked Zarkos.Nothing rattled this guy. Here he sat nibbling on a grotslichsandwich while their seriously compromised 'flying coffin'hurtled towards this strange, bluish-green planet with itsinterspersed patches of arid brown.

They were already within the stratosphere. Luckily, theirspacecraft was not threatened by excessive heat build-upon entry into the atmosphere as were the far more primitiveEarth versions.

Meanwhile, down below ...

"Where are you, Scott?" shouted Britsie.

"I'm down at the pond," replied Scott.

Scott and Britsie Wright are brother and sister, born oneyear apart and on the same day of the year. They were eachborn with a caul, a fairly unusual finding within one family—Afairly unusual finding, period.

They had both just celebrated their tenth and ninthbirthday respectively. They would have no doubt preferred tocelebrate them irrespectively.

The two were inseparable. He was tall for his ageand slender with wiry legs and arms. Amongst his otherdistinguishable features were ginger hair and grey eyes. Itcould have been worse. He could have been born with greyhair and ginger eyes. As a sign of divine generosity, God hadthrown in a few freckles for good measure. Luckily, most ofthem missed.

She was also slim but had inherited her mother's browneyes, genetically speaking of course, and wore her longblonde hair in a pony tail most of the time.

Their father, Austin, is an aeronautical engineer when notbeing badgered by his attractive wife.

Their mother, Dorothy, is a disgruntledshopper-cum-housewife who has somehow missed theplane to undisputed plutocracy. To add insult to injury, being'born again' did not provide her with a second opportunity.Regardless, they all led a more than comfortable existence intheir more than comfortable home.

"Suppertime!" commanded the self-proclaimed, yetmediocre, master of their cozy, downstairs kitchen.

"Coming!" shouted Scott.

"Any idea what we are in for tonight?" giggled Britsie.

Just then they were overcome by a loud 'electrical type'crackle in the air, followed by a huge, widening plume ofwater spraying upwards and outwards from the pond likea gigantic, liquid golf tee directly ahead of them. This wasfollowed by an instant wall of water at ground level thatflooded the entire area where they stood with considerableforce. Within seconds they were both washed all the way upthe embankment and onto the lawn directly in front of thehouse.

"Gesundheit!" shouted Britsie.

"Wow! What was that?!" said Scott as the water recededdown the slope and back into the pond. They clamberedquickly to their feet.

"Whatever it was, mum is not going to believe us," saidBritsie. "Oh no! We are soaking wet. Are you okay?"

"I think so. Nothing's obviously broken," said Scott as hefished out a few pieces of water weed and a confused carpfrom inside his sagging jersey.

"I guess that it is time then, to face the music," sighedBritsie as she shook out the last of the water from her shoeswhile Scott prepared to return the gasping filter-feeder to itsnatural habitat.

Sure enough, just then the resident matriarch migratedout onto the porch displaying that familiar 'posture with apurpose' ...

"I am not going to call you again. Your supper is r ...Good grief! Look at the two of you. Catching frogs again Isuppose. Well? Who pushed who in this time?"

They had both learned by now that the best thing wasto plead ignorance and practice their sweetest, apologeticsmile.

"Well, I give up," said their mother with a long-sufferingsigh.

They were, after all, a close-knit family and love was notlacking within their home.

Trying hard to hide a smile whilst remembering her ownyouth she said, "Get yourselves into the shower and put onsome dry clothes. I shall put your supper in the oven to keepwarm ... Look at me when I am talking to you." She got thislast bit from a religious book that she had just read called'How to grab your child's attention, for Christ's sake'.

This was all very easy for her to say. In fact, they found itextremely difficult, considering what they had just witnessed,to remove their gaze from the pond for even one politesecond.

There was also no point in trying to tell her what they hadrecently witnessed and how they had managed to become sosoaking wet.

"I can see where you both fell in from here," said theignorant mother, pointing to the rear, left hand quadrantof the pond and close to the middle. "There's a huge gapin the water lilies and a fair number of the reeds have beencompletely flattened ... Humph! What will your father say?"

Their father was out of town on a two-day businessassignment and would only return the following evening.

Scott, having now returned the gasping carp to the pond,headed up to the house.

"Take your shoes and socks off before you walk on mynice clean floor, please?"

They trundled obediently off to their preferred bathroomshaving carried out their mother's instructions, and theirshoes.

12 Troye Street was a big house. It was a double storeywith a wonderful view of the valley during the day, best of allfrom upstairs for obvious reasons.

Upstairs there were four large bedrooms. Their parentsroom had a full en-suite incorporating a funny hand basin onthe floor with a built in shower nozzle that sprayed upwardslike a fountain, situated in the middle of it. It made no senseat all. Then there was a large lounge with sliding doors thatopened onto a long verandah. In fact all of the bedroomsopened out onto the verandah which went three-quartersof the way around the entire house. There was also a fullbathroom with shower, bath and double hand basin. Nextdoor was a separate toilet and hand basin.

Downstairs was an open-plan kitchen with a cozybreakfast nook, a dining room, another separate toilet withhand basin plus a quaint office under the stairs. A narrowpassage separated these from a small flatlet used for guests.The rest of the downstairs space consisted of a large doublegarage and workshop where their father spent a lot of hisspare time. His hobby necessitated the use of some extremelyintricate and sophisticated equipment. He could buildanything from a paper clip to an internal combustion engine,not to mention printed circuit boards and other sophisticatedelectronic gadgetry.

"That's better!" said their mother as they entered thedining room, "dry again and no doubt hungry too."

Both of their minds were completely preoccupied with theearlier aquatic events and found it hard to muster sufficientinterest in any form of food consumption. The timing wasquite simply, bad. Why did this all have to happen justbefore suppertime? Regardless, whilst serving your sentenceof youth, mealtimes are not an option. They are seen as anecessity by all responsible parents. Three meals a day formthe golden rule and all shall attend.

They stared suspiciously at the large serving bowl in thecentre of the table.

"What's for supper, mum?" asked Britsie.

"Curry."

Well, at least the rice looks authentic, thought Scott.

It may seem a bit strange that two children of their agehad developed such discerning palates. The explanationis quite simple ... It just so happened that the next doorneighbours, Julia and Neville Cavendish, owned an up-marketrestaurant downtown. It was called 'The Pauper's Plate' andanyone of any standing or status within the community wasto be found amongst its list of regulars. The Cavendishes hada very bright son, Bradley, who was the same age as Britsieand so, all three being close friends, the two of them wereoften invited over for a meal. On many an occasion, Scott andBritsie would be invited over to help with the preparation.This they did willingly. Both of them therefore knew that areal curry was not just a mediocre stew, one with a teaspoonof curry powder added and mixed in at the end. As a result oftheir common interest, all three had pledged to stay friendsand one day, open their own restaurant together—once theyhad all left school, of course. Regardless, right now Scott andBritsie knew better than to point out their mother's culinaryshortfalls. After all, they never went hungry and everythingwas always prepared with the best of ingredients, not tomention intentions.

It was getting dark now. As they sat down around thetable and prepared for their evening meal, their mothersaid Grace while the children fiddled expectantly with theircutlery.

Scott kicked Britsie mischievously under the table.

"Stop that, Scott!" she protested.

"Right, kids, time to put world war three on hold. Helpyourselves," she sighed as God was respectfully put on theback burner, at least until next time!

This whole 'God' thing seemed most confusing. Theirparents always thanked him for the food each time they satdown to eat but neither of them had ever seen Him bringany to the house. In fact neither of them had even seen Him.Perhaps he worked at the supermarket? Mum was alwaysthere.

They could now see an area of increasing brightness onthe horizon, clearly visible from the dining room window.

"They say that it's full moon tonight," said their mother.

"Who's 'they', mum?"

"Don't be clever and eat your lentils. They are good foryou."

So much for parental enlightenment, thought Britsie.

Moments later, they all observed the first sliver of lunarlandscape as it slowly peeped out above the silhouette of aforest in the distance.

The two children were obviously preoccupied as theyhastily transferred their meals from their plates to theirstomachs.

"Anyone for seconds?"

"No thanks, mum. That was very nice," they bothcondescended as they excused themselves from the tableand headed off for their traditional washing up and dryingduties; the last obstacle before a few hours of relativefreedom.

"You've got to start somewhere," giggled Scott as theyheaded for the kitchen, dreaming of their future endeavour.More importantly, they were extremely anxious to findout what on earth was going on down at the pond. Howcould supper time possibly have held a higher priority thansomething falling to earth and crashing into their pond?

It was Sunday night (15th March, 1998 to be precise) andso, eventually, having finished their chores, they were allowedto go outside to play until eight o'clock. After that it was'brush your teeth and off to bed'.

"Don't you kids go near the pond now!" instructed theirmother. "I've gathered enough washing for one day."

"Please, mum. We won't fall in. We just want to go andchat to the 'pond people'."

"'Pond people', faeries—No such thing!" she rebuked."You should rather be sitting in your bedrooms reading yourBible if you know what's good for you."

"Yes mum," they chorused rather unconvincingly.

"Well, off you go then. Now don't forget—eight o'clock isbed time, okay? No sob-stories."

"Yes mum," said Britsie.

"Race you there," said Scott.

In less than two shakes of a nanny goat's bootlace, theywere both out the back door, across the porch and headingdown the lawn towards the pond.

The moon was now in full view and its warm glow lit upthe entire premises including the large, somewhat 'pregnant'pond.

They arrived at the edge and peered at the gap in thewater lilies.

A steady stream of tiny bubbles could still clearly be seenrising through the water in the centre of this newly createdgap on the surface. There were pieces of water plant strewnall over the lawn with some bits even hanging from thewillow tree that overhung the corner of the pond nearest tothe house.

They were both now standing right at the edge of thepond. They leaned down and stuck their index fingers intothe water. This was the signal that they were taught.

Within seconds they heard the familiar 'Krik-krik'emanating from the middle of the pond where there werestill a few varieties of undamaged water lily growing, wellremoved from the dense reeds. By design they needed space.

It wasn't long before four small orbs, each approximatelytwo centimetres in diameter, headed towards them. Theyappeared to travel just above the surface of the water,moving in twos as if each pair were linked to a commonbody. Not too surprisingly, they were.

Two seconds later they had, all four, broken the surfaceto reveal no less than two of their amphibious friends. Thesedelightful and humble creatures were known as the 'pondpeople'; hardly original but that didn't seem to bother them.

"Perhaps one day mum may take the trouble to see forherself. Then she will believe what we have told her," saidBritsie as the two strange creatures approached the edge.

Each one had six limbs with webbed feet in keeping withtheir aquatic habitat. Their eyes were well above their headsand on stalk like appendages. The design was remarkable asthese eyes could rotate through 360 degrees and the stalkswere retractable. The upper eyelid sat on top like a hat andremained completely independent of the lower eyelid. Theydid, however, move towards each other and connect in orderto lubricate the orb as in blinking and also when sleeping.