Sebastian and the Slugs

Seb was happy enough in that there was no homework. There was no need to worry about grades either. Or exams. Well, how could there be? There was no school any more! And Tess, his older sister, said there never would be again. Of that, Seb was sceptical. If he’d learned anything from his time at Rushworth High, it was that school was always looking for a way to get you. It would surely never give up that easily.

Luckily there was still food. Some reports said that people were starving in different parts of the country and that many were dead already. Others claimed that the global population itself had been decimated. Seb wasn't sure about that. As their father had said, you couldn't believe anything you heard nowadays. It was either better than that, or much worse. Mother insisted on the former. Father, before he disappeared, preferred not to offer an opinion.

They were everywhere now. Just leaving your street required passing through checkpoints, to the extent to which you couldn't or wouldn't want to undertake a journey of any length unless you really needed to. And even then, with the best reason in the world and no obviously ill intent, they might block you anyway. Or simply finish you off on a whim. And it was getting worse. That wasn't mere gossip - that was fact. Seb had seen it with his own eyes in the quick and shocking way they'd dealt with Mr Underwood.

The exception, though, was children. The Slugs were lax about children. Maybe they didn't understand the concept of them. Or perhaps they thought kids were cute. Well, that was stretching it a bit: they didn't look like they could find anything cute. In any case, they were too busy. Searching, extracting. Collecting and transporting. They didn't have time for any sentimental considerations.

So nowadays Seb and his friends basically ran wild. There was nothing to do indoors so they just stayed out for as much of the day as they could. How that was going to work when winter came was probably in the back of their minds but, if they were anything like Seb, they made a concerted effort to keep it there. It wasn’t advisable to look too far ahead.

Mostly they played next to the woods opposite his house. The Slugs seemed to tolerate this and, although there was always a presence and the boys were technically under supervision, in practice they were free to pursue any activity they wished, be it sports, hide and seek, war games, or climbing trees.

At no time during the course of these entertainments did the boys ever see any non-Slugs. But that’s not to say that they didn’t hear anyone. Well, not Seb at least.

“Seb,” the voice said softly. “Seb, don’t look round. OK?”

Seb was by the edge of the bushes. He knew the voice at once. “Dad, you came back,” he whispered.

“I never really went away. There are others here, too. We’re trying to get ourselves organised and give these bastards something to think about.”

“How? They’re too strong.”

“Their strength might be their weakness. They’re high tech alright, but they’ve never met low cunning.”

“Can it work?”

“We have to give it a shot.” He paused. “Listen, Seb, I haven’t got much time to talk now. Can you do something for me?”

“Of course!”

“Find Liz Kelner and give her this.” He passed a rumpled note into Seb’s hand. “You can get through; we can’t. It’s the only chance we’ve got.”

“I’ll do it, Dad. I won’t let you down.”

Now this really was better than school!

II

Within a couple of years, Seb became the most celebrated juvenile alive: a kind of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn to the power of, well, quite a lot! And best of all, unlike Tom and Huck, Seb was real and so were the benefits of his endeavours. From a shockingly early age, his appetite for the grand triumvirate of wine, women and song was only matched by the ease of its accessibility. The pick of what remained on earth was readily available to the kid who’d basically secured its continued existence. And why wouldn’t it be? He’d helped to establish the resistance, organised the programme of youthful sabotage that had destabilised the Slugs, then finally led armies of all ages into battles that he conducted to the tunes of his own strategies. He’d been lucky. No doubt about that. But he’d also displayed an instinct that was akin to genius. Well, whatever it was, it was certainly too much for the Slugs. Outmanoeuvred, and sensing that they were in an unwinnable fight against lunatics and desperados, they suddenly slid off and fled.

But Seb’s success, and the self-indulgence that it subsequently afforded him, was a double-edged sword, to use a suitably martial analogy. It meant that he missed the Great Rebuild. Missed it, and didn’t even know that it was taking place around him, such was the anaesthetising effect of the good life. And it wasn’t that he didn’t have his chance.

“But Seb, don’t you see, you’re the perfect person to lead us forward!”

Seb momentarily let go of whatever, or whoever, he was toying with and laughed. “Don’t think so, Dan. I’m through with it all. Burned out. It’s time to let someone else have a go.”

Dan had grown up with Seb, baited the Slugs with him, and fought alongside him at the decisive Battle of Harlow. “It’s your time. You’ve won the war. Now win the peace.”

Seb’s expression was priceless. So much so that Dan couldn’t understand whether he was joking or serious when he replied: “I’m too old.”

“You’re barely seventeen.”

“I’m an old seventeen.”

Dan shook his head.

“Listen, not everyone’s cut out for politics, or waffle, or whatever else you want to call it. I’ve played my part. Obviously my strength is more on the active side-”

“You forget what you did!”

“I know what I did. And if necessary, I’ll do it again. But I didn’t do any of it so that I could rearrange the world. Don’t you get it? It was all just like a game. That’s what I’m good at. All I’m good at.”

“But the momentum’s with you! It can all be yours. Ours. We can remake the world. It’ll take time but it can be better than it ever was.”

“You do it.”

Dan spluttered something, muttered something else. Tess was more direct.

“You little shit!”

Seb just laughed. He’d always been easy-going and approachable but, especially now, he knew his own price. If anyone else had said that, he might not have looked on it so favourably. But Tess was Tess!

“You’re a good judge of character, Sis. I’ve always said it.”

“Get up off your arse and finish what you started.”

“Wait a minute, I didn’t start it. Remember that? They did. I just helped to finish it. And them!”

“You never take anything seriously!”

“If I did, you probably wouldn’t be sitting there.”

Tess scowled.

“Huh? How about that? Nothing to say? Thought not.” Sometimes it was easy for people to forget that Seb was a teenager. Every now and then he provided a reminder.

“Hopeless!”

“Hopeless? OK, I admit it. So what? I’ve done my bit. More than my bit, probably. I don’t have anything to beat myself up about.”

And that was that. Like the great leaders of the past - the ones whose achievements Seb had turned a deaf ear to during his time in the classroom - he had undeniably left his mark, not just on the land under his feet, but on civilisation itself. But crucially, unlike them, he was still young. Ridiculously young. He made Boudicca look like a grandma. And as for Churchill …

Being young was his USP. It was what attracted others to follow him, and what had undermined the Slugs. The only problem was that people now expected more from him. He had sixty or seventy years left to shape the world.

His father tried. His mother tried. Various aspiring statespeople tried. They all received the same answer.

“Nah.”

They asked him to be the architect of the new project.

“Nah.”

They asked him to be the figurehead.

“Nah.”

They asked him for the merest of involvements.

“Nah.”

And that was how Seb came to take his eye off the ball as humanity as he’d known it, and fought for it, came to disappear within two generations.

III

He knew it didn’t make it any the less true, but he always said it with a fraction of his tongue angled towards a portion of his cheek. He couldn’t help himself. Otherwise, it just sounded too wanky.

“So here's where I saved the human race.”

“It doesn't look like much.”

“It doesn't look like anything.”

They were a tough crowd, he thought.

And on the face of it, the place didn't look like much. A flat landscape which was, in fairness, only slightly flatter than when Seb had been a kid, as well as the remains of what had been a forest. Most of the houses had been destroyed in the Great Conflict and, perhaps in an attempt to maintain its historical authenticity or maybe just sheer neglect, the area had not been redeveloped. This was to Seb’s advantage in the coming years, as he scraped to gain Lifepoints and maintain his position. And at first he did what they’d used to call a roaring trade. But Battlefield Tours Inc. was a hard sell these days. Seb was 114 now and almost a century had passed since the heroics for which he’d become famous. Naturally, a great deal had changed in that time. Most specifically the fact that the species which he'd saved had been reduced to a bunch of stragglers who were dying out by the day.

The New Hybrids allowed a few representatives of the old guard to supervise the ruins of their civilisation, but they were not impressed. In fact, they probably had more sympathy for the Slugs. 

“Look at that!” one of the more excitable members of the morning’s tour party exclaimed upon seeing a life-sized mock-up of a Slug. “Now that’s what I call impressive!”

“A right big nasty fucker!” its buddy agreed.

“You’re telling me,” Seb thought.

By contrast, the human models looked puny. Just as they had been in real life, of course. And Seb himself by this stage looked even worse. 114 had barely been possible in his day. He’d never heard of anyone reaching that age. Now it was perfectly feasible - technically, at least - and indeed most of the survivors were close to, or beyond, the century mark. Certainly nobody was under 50. There hadn’t been a natural human birth since the Hybrids had taken over. All of that had been phased out. The only way that any future humans would exist was by controlled experiment and, as of yet, the jury was out on whether the new masters were going to allow that to happen. Perhaps, just as they were beginning to run out of pets, they might decide that they missed having the little creatures around and embark on a selected reintroduction. Seb himself, and the few people he was in contact with, remained doubtful. And wasn’t that for the best?

“Man, how the fuck did you ever beat these things?” The question was delivered less with awe than with a disbelief that was mixed with arrogance and had a touch of contempt thrown in just for good measure.

Seb looked up at the Hybrid. He took in its muscular form. What was it they’d said during his schooldays? Brick shithouse? Yep, that’s what they looked like. Brick shithouses. Ironically (ridiculously perhaps, given their disregard for Homo sapiens) the majority of the Hybrids had settled on the human form as their mode of appearance. That’s not to say that there weren’t tigers or lions, bears or eagles, or other such noble beasts being utilised, but those were just outliers. The preserve of a few eccentrics. And, in any case, they could always revert to another shell whenever they wished. The exterior was just cosmetic after all. It was the inside, the mechanism, that was important.

“Certainly makes you wonder, right?” Seb replied with a wink and a smile that were as far from being genuine as it was possible to get.

“You little bastards!” he thought. Then he corrected himself. “Big bastards. Sorry.” For if peak Seb had been 6 feet 2, the Hybrids were 7 feet plus. Bigger was possible. Not as large as the Slugs, but it wasn’t necessary to be as large as the Slugs. Where had that got them anyway?

One of the Hybrids sneered. “You just put salt under them. Wasn’t that the story?”

It had obviously been a bit more curious than its fellows.

Seb chuckled. The memory of it took him away to what seemed, unbelievably, a better time and place. “Well, it did start like that. The disruption, I mean. I realised they might have a particular fallibility. And they did.”

The Hybrids were animated. The combination of salt and fallibility appeared to tickle them.

They, of course, had no use for salt. They didn’t eat. And fallibility was a foreign concept. One that had been wiped away by the transition.

“The lesson,” Seb began, “is that everybody, everything, has a vulnerable area. A place that’s open to attack.” He looked at their expressions and was encouraged to continue. “And if they themselves don’t realise it, then so much the better.”

The Hybrids scoffed in almost perfect unison. They were hyper-intelligent in many ways, Seb didn’t deny that. But he’d noticed how much they’d changed since the first times he’d conducted these tours and given his lectures. Then, they were more than willing to listen and absorb. Not now, though. They were dismissive. Cocky, even. And based on what? They were human-designed and designed as humans, but with the bonus of not having bodily functions or needs. The propensity towards physical failure had been excised and they could neither be sick nor die. They could only be repaired or upgraded or deactivated, and none of it was personal. And that was where they’d diverged. In simple terms, they’d now reached the stage where they were forgetting their roots.

“Well, nothing like those Slugs would ever dare to come here again,” one stated proudly.

“Those brainless lumps!” another added.

Seb nodded partially. “They did look a bit limited. I can’t disagree with you there. But they had a power we’d never even imagined before. Seeing that in action … ” And now a rare seriousness took over his face, “Well, seeing that - and hearing the damage it inflicted - was something you don’t forget, not even when you’re 114 years old.” He smiled again. “They looked weird. There’s no getting around that. But they were just the worst, the trickiest, the most horrible opponents.”

“But they just gave up!”

“They did. But they were noble warriors in their way, I’ll say that for them.”

“Wasn’t there a story that they saluted you as they left?” the educated one asked.

“That wasn’t a story. It was true.”

“They were Slugs. How could they salute you?”

This got a laugh.

“Well … saluted, let’s say, in their fashion.”

Scepticism abounded, as did objections. Seb had heard it all before but not, perhaps, with the same severity.

“If they were all you said they were, they wouldn’t give up. We would never give up!”

Seb stared at the speaker. “They took the antagonist out of you. That’s one of the 8 Fundamentals. You wouldn’t be in a position to start a war of aggression. You’re not like us, remember?”

“Of course I remember. We’re not like you. We’re better than you.”

Seb grinned.

IV

Was it really for the best?

Seb knew his own answer, but he had to canvass the others. And the concept of ‘others’, he realised, was something close to a joke. Who were the others exactly?

Well, there was Dan. Dear old Dan. Seb’s perpetually unacknowledged best friend. The last Seb had heard of him, he was vegetating in a Colony. Waiting to die. Expecting to die. Except there was nothing wrong with him, or any of them! The worst they were suffering from was malaise.

Unfortunately, Liz Kelner was dead. He knew that much. So too were his parents. They would have been close to 150 now. No chance of that! Then he thought again. Why not? If you can make 114, then why not 150 or even 200? If technology could create the Hybrids, it could surely extend the human lifespan. The idea of it both amused and repulsed him. 200? How shitty would that be?

And as for Tess, well, she was gone too. She’d never been as relaxed as Seb. The shake-up of the species hadn’t been for her and, after years of fruitless warnings and defiance, she’d finally sought a comprehensive exit.

Which left …

On this, Seb really struggled. Generally speaking, humans were difficult to find. They were concentrated here and there. Tolerated. Watched. Used. But always treated with suspicion by the Hybrids on account of their inherent slyness.

Seb was fortunate in that his status allowed him to live independently, though he knew that this could be revoked at any time. He was also, by choice, alone. None of his partners had lasted the distance and nor, in truth, had they ever been meant to. Nor was it that he lacked any offspring options to ease the burdens of his old age. On the contrary, it was alleged that he had twenty children, though he estimated it as being closer to thirty. Most of them he’d never met. And although he wouldn’t admit it, he’d probably never wanted to. The only ones he’d ever been close to - or indeed interested in - were the twins, Ned and Delilah. Most likely because they were a pair of utter bastards. Hyperactive, insufferable maniacs. But in Seb’s eyes, at least, none the worse for it. What would they be now? 50? 55? That’s if they were even still alive. There was no guarantee these days.

So what was he going to do? Convene a meeting? The idea of it made him laugh out loud.

No, he’d have to travel. Travel and research. It’d give him a bit of exercise if nothing else.

V

“Dan, you’re still here!”

“Where else would I be?”

“Yes, exactly. Where else?”

Dan’s rather watery eyes studied Seb carefully. He’d never really known with Seb if they were sharing the joke, or whether he himself was the object of it.

“Still ailing, Dan?”

There was no immediate answer. Dan took it for one of Seb’s traps.

“I’m … OK. As well as can be expected. How about you, Seb?”

“Oh, a bit crotchety. Aren’t we all?” He looked at the other humans who were scattered about the place. “But not bad. On the whole, not bad at all.” He paused. It seemed deliberate rather than an embarrassed silence. “So tell me Dan, how’s the wife?”

“Laura.”

“Laura!”

“She’s dead.”

“That’s unfortunate, Dan.”

“But you knew that already. That was 30 years ago.” Seb didn’t trouble himself to confirm or deny it. “Now you tell me, Seb. Why are you really here? After all these years?”

“OK. If you want to know. I came to tell you that you were right.”

Dan stared at him.

“You were right and I was wrong.”

Dan couldn’t help himself. He exploded with laughter. “Now I know that you’re not OK. Is your head going, Seb? Or are you dying? Is that it? You’re dying and you came here to play one last trick on your oldest victim?”

Seb was laughing too. “I know. I know. I deserve all of this. Go on, make the most of it.”

“Really, though. Why did you come here? Because I honestly don’t get it.”

“Honestly, I don’t get it myself. But what you said does have some truth in it. That bit about one last trick.”

Dan had no more words to offer.

“It sounds amazing just to say it, but one hundred years ago - more or less - you asked me, you told me, to begin the process of finishing what we started. I refused. Like the pig-headed little dope I was. And look where that got all of us. Not listening to you and the others was the biggest mistake I ever made. It only took me nearly a century to see it.”

“It could have happened anyway. We might have ballsed it up ourselves.”

“We wouldn’t. Not in this way at least. We were dumb enough sometimes but we had the right intentions.”

Dan couldn’t disagree. “But I don’t see. What can we do about it now? Our time’s past. We’re barely even alive!”

“Are we? Are we really? I feel just as alive, just as troublesome, just as bloody-minded, as I’ve ever done. More so, maybe. And look at them: these self-diagnosed crocks and cripples. What would it take to get them up, and others like them?”

Dan surveyed his surroundings.

“Could you do it, Dan?”

A faint smile gave way to a broader one. “I guess I could …”

“And one more thing. Is Frank still alive?”

“He is. Or he was last week.”

“Do you know where I can find him?”

VI

There were other museums around the surviving settlements, but Milly’s was the pick of the bunch. It was the one that contained the most artefacts and, owing to Milly’s devotion/fanaticism, the one that was also the best kept and catalogued.

Initially it had been established to demonstrate the broad sweep of human history to the humans themselves but in its latter years it became more of a reference point for those Hybrids who wanted or needed to extend their knowledge. As a result, by now, it was hardly ever visited and seemed to exist in vacuum of indifference. Not that anyone would have known that from the way Milly managed, or rather ruled, the place. She knew everything about it, could access any object instantly, and generally regarded it with a reverence that was almost spiritual.

“Milly, Milly, Milly!” How many Millys were enough? Seb wasn’t exactly sure but he had to stop somewhere.

Milly looked at him over her glasses, over a lamp, over her desk. They hadn’t seen each other for 50 years. 40 years before that, they’d been close. Very close. Seb had fond memories of Milly.

“Sebastian.”

Seb was reminded of his mother. And not those moments when she’d been at her best.

“Oh Milly, where have the years gone?”

She was breezy. “They’re right here. All around me.”

Seb wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a joke. Briefly, he felt some sympathy for Dan’s persistent confusion.

“Didn’t take you for a museum fan, Sebastian. Not your kind of thing, is it?” She arched an eyebrow. “Bit cerebral for you perhaps?”

Oh she was good, Milly. She was good.

“I’ve been here before. I’m sure you remember.”

“I remember everything!”

The implications of this almost caused Seb to blush. Something he hadn’t done, probably, for more than a century!

“I heard that you opened a wing in my honour…”

“News travels slowly in your neck of the woods then. That must have been, what, 40 years ago?”

“Time flies, right?”

“I suppose you just got your invitation in the post? You know, the one where I asked you to come and open it for us.”

“Er … it must have gone astray. You know only too well that I would have been here like a shot had I known. Anything for you, Milly …”

Her expression was indescribable.

“Anyway.”

“Anyway …”

“What can we do for a living legend, Sebastian?”

“Slug materials.”

“You’ll have to expand …”

“Yes. Yes, of course. Slug materials. You must have some. Many. I know you’ll have some.” He was jabbering. Milly’s grandness would have him in a sweat next.

“Well naturally. We’ve got the largest number of objects from the Great Conflict anywhere in existence.”

“Parts of their transporters?”

“Of course. We’ve got a whole ship. An original one.”

“Bits of their communication system?”

“More than ‘bits’!”

“Weapons?”

“Look, it’d be easier to ask what we haven’t got. We’ve got relics from every aspect of Slug life. We’ve even got dead Slugs. Dissected Slugs. Cross-sectioned Slugs.”

Seb couldn’t hide his surprise or his admiration.

“What is it, Sebastian? Are you feeling a bit of nostalgia? Did you miss your old buddies, the Slugs? Want to see them again, one last time?” She laughed for the first time since he’d arrived.

Seb was always up for a joke. Except on this occasion it wasn’t a joke.

“Yes, actually. Yes I am. Yes I did. And yes I do.”

Now it was Milly’s turn to wonder if he was descending into an age-related mental fog.

“Would it be possible to get a takeaway?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, of some of the objects?”

“We’re not a fast food establishment, Sebastian!”

“Er … you know, just for a few days. Weeks. Months?”

“We’re not a lending library either.”

“I’d bring them back …”

That look again.

“It’s not like anybody’s going to miss them-”

“I-”

“Other than you, of course.”

“Well …”

“Or, if you don’t mind, we can examine them here.”

“We?”

“Me and Frank.”

“Frank? That Frank?”

“Yes, that Frank.”

Milly put her head in her hands.

VII

“It’s madness.”

Seb laughed.

“No, it’s utter madness. Irresponsible. Deranged.”

“It’s right down your street then, Frank! Who’s more mad, irresponsible and deranged than you?”

It was a fair point and Frank didn’t even think to contest it.

Now if there was still any doubt about Seb’s genius, connected though it was to an intense period nearly a century before, there was surely no dispute when it came to Frank’s, given his long and varied list of achievements. Hadn’t it been young Frank, in combination with his partner KC, who’d cracked the previously unfathomable linguistic pattern of the Slugs and then proceeded to jam their communications chain? Hadn’t it also been him who’d improvised the rudimentary radio system that enabled the resistance to operate nationwide rather than in isolation? A development which marked the beginning of the end of the Great Conflict. Not only this, but Frank had been an integral figure in the rapid prosperity of the post-war years and, as such, it had been him to whom the new leaders had turned when they first had the idea of bypassing evolution and creating an impregnable human. ‘No man, woman or child will ever shit again’, was the unofficial slogan of the time. And, indeed, they never did. But as time went on, and as Frank’s enhancements became increasingly sophisticated, were they actually still human in any real sense? KC thought not and made this objection quite clear. Frank disagreed, causing their separation to become both professional and personal. And when the Hybrids had assimilated his knowledge and his methods, they dismissed him.

Of course, his capabilities and his standing made him dangerous. Rather like Seb, he’d accrued enough Lifepoints to be permitted more than the average amount of freedom. Also like Seb, he lived alone, but less by choice than the fact that his fellow humans basically shunned him. More than anyone else - even those by now deceased post-war leaders - Frank had been saddled with the blame for the inexorable rise of the Hybrids.

“I don’t disagree with what you say. But this is not the way.”

Seb didn’t have any beef with Frank. He didn’t have any beef with anybody! In fact, he liked the old boy a lot.

“Well tell me another way, brainbox. I’m all ears.”

Frank didn’t even make any attempt. He had nothing to offer.

“How about you, other brainbox?”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at Milly. Yes, she was in on it. She wouldn’t let them take anything out of the museum, so they’d had to establish their HQ, such as it was, here. And in Seb’s eyes that was no great hardship, even if it guaranteed a sarcasm overload.

But Milly wasn’t sarcastic on this occasion. Just bemused.

“I’m with him.” She aimed a hostile nod at Frank. “Something I never thought I’d say.”

“OK. Let’s take it back to basics. We have an issue. That issue is not going away. In fact, it’s getting worse and worse.”

Their faces gave him nothing to work with.

“Agreed?”

Still nothing.

“Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Frank said, absently.

“Yes. Yes. Agreed. But so what?”

“So we take action.”

Milly remained testy. “We’re not in a position to take action!”

“We’re too old!” Frank whined.

“Old, old! We’re still the same people. It’s what we would have done at any time in our lives, so why not now?”

“I think you forget rather easily,” Milly said, with little attempt to hide her impatience.

“Now just wait a minute! I don’t forget anything. I was there, right at the forefront of it all, day after day, night after night. I never hid and I saw things that I hope neither of you will ever see-”

Milly was only slightly placated. “Then of all people-”

“Look: we’ve had it. Not this year. Not the next. But it’s over. Look at the way most of us live. The three of us aren’t a representative sample, don’t forget that.”

“But there’s this …” Milly waved her arms expansively to indicate the contents of the museum.

“This is like us. It’s barely hanging on. Admit it, Milly. Face it.”

Frank’s expression was mournful. Seb couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“Cheer up, Frank. Because if you listen to me, it really might never happen.”

VIII

They were in. But only because they realised that they were nearly out.

“Can you still remember how this works?”

Frank looked insulted. “Of course I can. Can you still remember how to piss?”

“I can remember. Whether I can do it or not is another matter …”

Milly couldn’t resist it. “I doubt there’s much movement of any sort down there.”

Seb refrained from giving her the reply that was in his mind. Maybe later. If this all went wrong, never.

Frank was in his own world. “The only hitch with this is that so much time has passed … there’s no guarantee they’re running the same system. Why would they be?”

“Maybe this period of time is nothing for them. Just a click of the fingers.” And yes, Seb had to support this by clicking his fingers.

Frank wasn’t convinced. “Well … In any case, a lot of questions remain.”

“Do you even know how far away they were?” Milly asked.

“I know. We monitored the signal. Beyond our range, of course. But for them accessing us was probably just like a trip to the shops. There’s every chance that they can even see us. Or if not, that they left some method of watching us.”

Seb was horrified. “Do you really believe that?”

“I’d say it’s highly possible.”

“And I’d say he’s highly nuts.” Milly was still on his case.

“Do you think they still use the same language?”

Frank’s expression made Seb feel rather stupid.

“OK, strike that question. More to the point, do you still know it?”

“Believe me, once you’ve learned that, you can never unlearn it.”

Seb gave Milly a stealthy look. The glance she gave him in return took him back 70 years.

“But I think you’re both neglecting the most vital concern.” Frank waited for an answer that never came. “Are they still there?”

IX

Yep, that was a good one. Got to hand it to old Frank. He wasn’t afraid to ask uncomfortable questions. Speaking of which, here was another: “What if they’re the type who hold a grudge?”

Seb couldn’t hide his appreciation for the workings of Milly’s mind. He gave her a clap that echoed around the lofty ceiling of the museum. “Very good. Very good.”

“No, I mean really. Do you know? You don’t, do you?”

Frank chimed in. “Now there’s your unknown factor.”

“You’re always glad to tell us how well you know them. How you’ve seen them up close and personal. Killing and being killed, and all the rest of it. So what about it? This could be the fastest and stupidest mistake that any of us have ever made.” Milly looked at them both. “And I don’t say that lightly. For here we have two people who are absolutely no strangers to catastrophic errors of judgement.”

Seb loved it. Frank not so much.

“OK Miss Perfect. Or Professor Perfect. Or Great-Great Grandma Perfect. I’m willing to take every rap that’s coming for me. As for Frank, he can speak much more eloquently on his own behalf than I can. But I remember some old ditty along the lines of it’s not how you start …”

Frankly briefly stopped grappling with his latest challenge. “Always liked that one!”

“… And to answer your question … I’ll have to be honest and say I haven’t a clue.”

X

“Been a while!”

“Sure has!”

“What have you been doing with yourself?”

“Oh, you know. Ducking and diving. It’s amazing what you can get up to, even in such a limited space. But I don’t need to tell that to you, huh?” Ned winked. “Ah, here she is!”

“Delilah!”

“Daddy, you old legend you!”

Seb would have had no trouble recognising them in a crowd. Even though they were in their fifties, they looked fresh and no less sparkly than they’d done as kids. “Still a great team, eh?”

“Inseparable!” they said in unison. It was obviously a well-rehearsed routine but Seb was a more than willing recipient.

“It’s great to see you.” And Seb genuinely felt that it was. For him, reunions always followed the same pattern: he needed to see someone for some reason or other, met them, enjoyed it immensely, asked himself why he’d left it so long, promised himself that he’d see them again soon … and then didn’t.

He looked around. “This place. This place. It’s depressing.”

The twins put on the bravest of faces but fundamentally they couldn’t disagree.

Ned looked thoughtful. “What’s that phrase? ‘It is what it is’? Well, no one bothers to say that any more. It’s gone beyond that.”

The three of them sat in silence as they digested the implications of his words.

“Still, got to keep laughing, eh?” Delilah offered.

“Or you’ll forget how to …”

Seb smiled. “You two, you don’t change.”

“Bit late now,” Ned said.

“Especially with the rotten genes you passed down.”

“Touché, my dear. But what if I said I could get you out?”

Delilah looked at Ned. “Then I’d say do it.”

“And I’d say about bloody time!”

Delilah continued: “But what I’d really say is: how? We’re marked in here. Because of you.”

Seb looked sheepish. “I know.”

“Oh, we do OK,” Ned said. “We get around. We have our noses in this and that. But there’s no way we can get out of here. The Colony. Not alive anyway!”

“Then death it is! But not yours, mine.”

“You’re not really dying, are you Daddy?”

“No. Well, not any more than anyone else. But let’s just say I could do with a little bit of young blood. Young blood that matches mine.”

They looked puzzled.

“Don’t worry yourselves about it. I’ll tell you later. Just hang on here for a bit longer until it’s all finalised. I’ll arrange to get you some passes on medical grounds. And I’ll guarantee this: whatever happens, they’re going to be one-way tickets. Firstly for you. Then, with your help, for all the others in dumps like this.”

“Intrigued, but delighted …”

“Delighted, but intrigued …”

XI

“You look … different.”

Seb first glanced at Frank, then at Dan, before fixing his eyes more carefully on his interlocutor. What could he say? Certainly not: “So do you.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t distinguish one from another. Seb didn’t have any time for people who said they all looked the same. They absolutely didn’t. They were of numerous shapes and sizes and different shades. But all that being the case, he couldn’t recognise any of them in particular. Not after all this time. He honestly had no idea if they were the same ones he’d fought against.

But even more of a test was the fact they and he were speaking at all. It was the first time he’d ever communicated with them in anything other than a form of rudimentary, and often deadly, body language. Novel didn’t begin to cover it. And it was all thanks to Frank, who’d excelled himself in establishing contact, getting through a message that led to a dialogue, and then hastily arranging a summit, here, in the wilderness of the east coast, that went quite literally under the radar.

First, Milly had thought it couldn’t be done. Then she’d thought that communication would be utterly impossible.

“How long have you had this thing?”

“Been working on it, on and off, since … well, since the last time they were here. Fortunately - or not - I’ve had plenty of time to refine it in the last few years.”

Seb was full of admiration. “Well, I must say, I didn’t think things like this were possible. Not outside of films and stories. How did you know it would work?”

“I didn’t.”

But it did. And suddenly the differences between them and the Slugs no longer seemed so enormous.

“First of all, I want to thank you for coming.”

“There was no chance that we would refuse your invitation. You are revered on our planet. Some of us even wanted to take you with us when we left. They wanted you to be our supreme leader.”

Seb blew out his cheeks and exhaled a very quiet “Wow …”

“But they were overruled. We knew your people needed you.”

Even Milly, whose sense of shock was usually hard to locate, seemed to lose some of the colour from her cheeks. Perhaps, Seb thought, she was just trying not to laugh.

“Well, as I believe Frank told you, from a human angle the period after our conflict hasn’t been as distinguished as it might have been. In fact, we’re closer to extinction than ever before.”

The small group of Slugs remained impassive. But there was nothing unusual about that. They always seemed impassive!

“That’s why we humbly ask you for your assistance.”

“Our assistance is yours. It has long been believed that we came to you in error. That our actions were reprehensible. I can assure you that such crudity is no longer a feature of our behaviour.”

“Of course we wouldn’t expect you to help us for nothing.” As soon as it came out of his mouth, Seb didn’t like the sound of it. He’d been right in one regard all those years ago: speechifying was not his forte. The Slug commander, on the other hand, sounded much more stately.

“Anything we can do, we will do, in honour of your valour and as a small means of reparation for our wrongdoings. But I must caution you that we are now strictly committed to non-violence in anything other than a defensive capacity.”

“Understood. It’s not violence we need, it’s a numerical advantage. Oh, and a little shock value. We’ll be the ones who do the heavy lifting.” He looked at Frank. “We have the father of the Hybrids on our side, and we’re lucky that he’s not a sentimental parent.”

The Slug seemed to bow.

“And in return for your help, any of the nutrients you need will be yours to take freely and amicably.”

“Thank you. But are you sure you have the right to grant this favour?”

Seb thought it over. “I’m taking the right.”

“Finally,” Dan murmured.

“Then we gratefully accept your kind offer.”

And so began the Compact. The unlikely alliance of humans and Slugs that led to the ‘decommissioning’ of the Hybrids. (Who, incidentally, proved to be neither as courageous nor as astute as they’d believed.)

“How do we know we can trust them?” Milly asked a few months later, as she watched a group of Slug transporters land, fill up, and fly away.

“How do they know they can trust us?”

“Because we have you. And for them, you’re some kind of deity.” It still made her laugh. “What happens to us when you’re gone?”

“When I’m gone, watch out. Because then there’s them.” He gestured towards Ned and Delilah. And, of course, the products of Frank’s last great project: the repopulation of the world.”

“He’d better get a move on with that one …”

“Well, he’s assembling a team as we speak. Though I’m not sure how hands-on he’s planning to be …” He smiled. “Anyway, they can all wait their turn. No one’s getting rid of me that easily. And especially not you.”

Milly tried to give him one of her stern looks. It wasn’t wholly successful.