Juxtaposing the scene with a group of working class friends in an English pub with a middle class writer and the politics of two factions of aliens. The intrigue mounts in Chapter 7:
‘OK lads and lasses,’ Billy announced. ‘I’ve been thinking long and hard…’
‘Don’t strain that brain cell,’ Foxy heckled.
Billy ignored him and pressed on. ‘It’s not good us all sitting around doing nothing while these bloody lizards make us their slaves. We’ve got to get off our arses and do something.’
‘At least they’ve got the busses running and people getting back to work,’ Bob asserted.
‘And the shops are open,’ Debbie added.
Billy gave the pair of them a withering glare. ‘I think we have to carry out some kind of protest. Make our voices heard. We can’t allow them to simply take our country off us without a fight.’
‘We’re not after us putting up flags and painting roundabouts, are you?’ Foxy asked cheekily.
‘No Foxy, I’m not. I think it’s got a bit beyond that. I’ve called a meeting of local residents for this evening.’
‘Where?’ Cheryl enquired.
‘Here,’ Billy said, turning towards her then gestured towards the bar. ‘I’ve checked with Nobby. He thinks it’s a great idea. Might drum up some business.’
‘Bit short notice, isn’t it?’ Foxy retorted.
‘How many do you think will come?’ Kathy asked.
‘If we get a dozen or so it’ll be worth it,’ Billy replied with a shrug. ‘At least it’ll make a point. We’ve got to do something, haven’t we?’
‘Fat lot of good that’ll do,’ Denby muttered morosely. He looked up at Billy. ‘Do you think those fucking lizards are all going to bugger off home because there’s a few dissatisfied customers in the Ashley Arms?’
‘No I don’t,’ Billy turned on him, ‘but we’ve got to do something. What do you suggest, big guy?’
‘I dunno.’ Denby looked flummoxed but then that was easily done.
‘We don’t want to rile them,’ John observed dubiously.
‘An’ we don’t want to allow the buggers to walk all over us, either,’ Charlene jumped to Billy’s defence. ‘At least our Billy is making a stand. He’s doing something. He’s put it out over facebook and the like. Had a lot of attention. There are a lot of people unhappy. We’ve gotta do something.’
‘I suppose,’ said Denby with a sigh.
‘Seven o’clock,’ Billy stated, peering challengingly round at all of them. ‘Right?’
Ron stood facing the giant lizard. His heart was racing but his mind seemed remarkably clear, given the circumstances. ‘What can I do for you?’ The words somehow came out without so much as a tremor despite the rush of panic that seemed to be threatening to overwhelm him.
The huge multi-coloured reptile stared at him and slowly nodded. Then in perfect English it began to speak. Ron found it mesmerising as he watched that bright blue forked tongue swish around helping form the words.
‘Are you Ron Forsythe?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ron Forsythe the writer.’
Yes.’
‘I have read all your works.’
‘You have?’ Ron was astounded. This was the last thing he had expected. Nobody had read all his books.
The more this conversation progressed the more unreal the whole thing seemed. Ron wasn’t sure if he shouldn’t invite the lizard in. It was bizarre for them to be holding a conversation stood here on the doorstep. Odd things started buzzing around in his head. Like would the chairs stand up to the weight of the large saurian? Would it fit under the ceiling? And how could it sit with that huge tail? Did it have to have special furniture? And how was that strange inflexible mouth and forked tongue forming words? What did their own language sound like? A series of clicks and barks? How the hell had this creature read all his hundred and twenty books? Nobody had ever done that. And where the hell was his notebook when he needed it?
Maybe he should ask the lizard to leave some reviews on Amazon?
‘You have an extraordinary mind.’
‘I do?’
‘Yes. I have greatly enjoyed the philosophy you have laid out along with your compassion and empathy. It perfectly aligns with my own.’
‘It does?’ this was becoming weirder and weirder by the minute. He was beginning to doubt that it was really happening. Could he really be standing on his doorstep having a conversation with an alien lizard that was a fan of his work? You couldn’t write it let alone live it. Where was this heading? Was the bloody lizard going to ask him to sign a few copies? He nearly burst out laughing but it was hardly appropriate.
‘Ron Forsythe, I am Commander Chameakegra the officer in joint charge of this rehabilitation exercise. You may have seen me on your receiving device.’
Ron reached out automatically to shake hands but quickly, after a glimpse of those razor-sharp talons, changed his mind. ‘Yes. Ron Forsythe, writer.’
‘Ron, we are putting together an interim government to run the planet under our auspices until you Hydrans are fully ready to rule yourself. You have to understand that this is largely a titular role at this moment in time although it will give you the ability to discuss policy with us and help shape the actions we are taking. I am here to offer you a role in this administration.’ Chameakegra studied Ron with searching eyes. She could plainly see his horror at the thought of being offered a role in this new government. He did not believe it. She tried to reassure him. ‘The best people to rule are the ones who really don’t want to. They do not think they are wonderful and deserve to rule; they do not think they can do the job brilliantly so they work at it and really try hard, they do it because it needs doing and they care; they want it to work.’ Chameakegra smiled. Ron could see it was a smile. ‘Our H-craft Ness, using the data collected and processing all the information about everyone on your planet, has selected you.’
Ron stared at the lizard in total disbelief. This was definitely a dream. Nobody in the real world would appear out of nowhere and offer some useless failed writer a role in a new global government. That was too silly to be believable.
‘Ron Forsythe, I duly pronounce you ‘Protector of the Planet’.
He found his voice, though it seemed to be coming from a long way away. ‘What the fuck??? You gotta be kidding!!’
The government was put together, taking over the UN Headquarters in Turtle Bay New York – an ideal building for governing the world. The UN itself was disbanded, no longer necessary. A number of its delegates had been rounded up, along with the majority of politicians from around the world. No longer would self-serving greed be tolerated. The job of politicians was to serve the people and help the world to develop, not satisfy their urge for power and line their own pockets. This government was going to be different.
There were no longer any nations but the representatives were drawn from the remainder of ‘honest’ politicians along with creatives, scientists, technologists and engineers. It was a cabinet of doers and thinkers, none of which thought they were capable or equipped, but all of which were selected by Neff’s assessment as being ideal for the role.
Nobody knew what they were meant to be doing but that was understandable. They weren’t seasoned politicians. They had no back up system of civil servants. They were floundering in the dark. The lizards were running things anyway. They just had to find their feet. The dazed and confused team began the process of settling in to their environment and trying to come to terms with the presence of their saurian overlords. They were all completely shocked but they set about grappling with the role they had been given. What else could they do?
At the head of the organisation sat Ron Forsythe, a bewildered writer.
Chameakegra and Grrndakegra had fallen into their respective roles. Chameakegra handled the governance and public relations, Grrndakegra handled the excision, temporary housing of the excised and dismantling of the military and unneeded facilities. Chameakegra was eager to complete the facilities on the moon but that had fallen under Grrndakegra’s remit. She had a feeling that the temporary camps in which the errant Hydrans were housed might well be detrimental to the success of the operation but was helpless to do anything about it.
She had already developed an antithesis to Grrndakegra’s high-taloned tactics. The removal exercise seemed mere mechanical to Grrndakegra who really did not seem to grasp the emotional impact of the operation on the Hydrans. Perhaps she just did not care? Or was there a more sinister reason lurking behind the brusque way the Hydrans were being handled? Probably. Chameakegra knew that from what Grrndakegra herself had said. She had made it quite clear that she was not bothered either way about the outcome of the operation, but was it something more than that? If, as Chameakegra suspected, she was carrying out Beheggakegri’s orders she would be doing all in her power to ensure that the operation failed.
Chameakegra had a steely look on her face. She could not allow that to happen.