Sabine Dolls

Chapter One

Dranyn took his place at the top end of the rectangular table. The Quistra usually met in the Meeting Chamber, but since the discussion would be about the Earth women; partly his project, the members decided to hold the meeting on his home ground, in the Science Building instead.

Silence ensued and everybody waited for Galbryn, their Ovitar, to speak. He took his gaze from the computer screen in front of him and faced the gathering.

This planet is thirty-thousand light years away. That’s the furthest we’ve ever sent our androids. Are you sure you can get them back safely?

Dranyn looked confident. We’ve made thorough checks of their biological composition. It’s certain that freezing them will preserve them for the journey. And they’re all young and healthy.

And you’ll be able to bring them round when they get here?

If it’s done slowly they should be all right. We’ve run tests on their specimens, so we’re pretty sure it’s going to be successful. However, it’ll be six months at least before we can introduce them to our society. We’ll have to keep them unconscious during that time, in order to wean them off Earth air and get them used to breathing ours. Noticing several surprised faces he added, We’re going to feed them with recordings of our language during that time, though. So it won’t be wasted.

No need for that, surely? We only want to breed with them, said a member.

Quite so, said the Ovitar. But wouldn’t it be rather cold and clinical of us, to be content to receive only a blank stare from them every time we uttered a pleasantry? He turned to Dranyn. But only five women? It’s a pity we can’t carry more.

Mantyn, Galbryn’s Vice-Ovitar and friend, leaned forward in his seat. But one would be enough, if it came to it, surely?

It would, replied Galbryn. But more would be better. There would be less pressure on us then, to make sure our zynoes fire to optimum level. The sound of muffled laughter distracted one or two of the more serious-minded among them. And we’ll need to make sure our zynoes aren’t wilting with age, which will be the case, if you don’t get these women here soon.

In the midst of more laughter, Galbryn’s android, Jyn, who never understood real persons’ humour, looked blankly from face to face, shaking his blue tuft of hair from side to side at the same time.

I can promise we’ll get them here in six months, said Dranyn.

Galbryn swivelled around in his chair and faced a white wall. What do they look like?

Dranyn spoke a command into the computer and two full-length pictures of the women projected onto the wall. The room became silent again.

Do they really look like that? asked Galbryn.

With a few minor variations of body shape, yes.

Shantz, they’re ugly. I thought you said they were the same as our women?

They are, said the scientist, while glaring at those still laughing. They’re as our women used to look, before the disaster. More importantly, they’re biologically composed the same as they were.

Galbryn thought of the computer library. He’d seen pictures of their women from one thousand years ago there, and knew Dranyn was right; they were the same.

Don’t worry, said Mantyn. Perhaps only one shot of our zynoes would do the trick. We needn’t bother with them any more after that. Or, we could do the business with a little help from technology. That way we needn’t have physical contact with them at all.

Galbryn turned to him and said, And have the Roizers say that the Catils are too lily-livered to perform a basic male function? I don’t think so. Anyway, my friend, the Roizers will probably salute our courage if we connect with these women in the natural way.

Dranyn waited for the laughter to die down again. We’d thought of taking their eggs away, fertilising them, and growing the offspring in the laboratory. That way, there’d be no need for physical contact. But tests proved that the female young will still finish up infertile, unless they have the protection of a human womb from start to finish. And it wouldn’t work to implant them in our women, of course.

But what, asked another member, if you took out a few of the Earth women’s eggs, sprinkled them with some of our sperm, then put them, fertilised, back into the Earth women?

That’s what I’m saying. It wouldn’t work on the female embryos, which after all is what we’re after. The sprinkled egg would still have spent its first spark of life outside the protection of the woman, which would have given it long enough to be contaminated by our air.

Some of the men still didn’t understand, and spoke among themselves for a while.

Galbryn turned back to Dranyn. When can you start the operation?

As soon as you give the word.

Galbryn looked down at his folded hands. There’s no reason for further delay, he thought. Most of the Quistra wanted this most ambitious of operations to begin. However, there were others, sceptics who saw nothing but bad in it. He didn’t share their view. To him, it was too exciting a project to abort at this stage. He looked up at the waiting members around the table. Then you might as well begin right away.

The room slowly emptied, but Galbryn and Dranyn stayed behind. Galbryn spoke into the computer and brought the images of the two women up on the small computer screen. Each one had beside her image, columns of data, giving technical specifications of the human genome. Not interested in these, he scrolled down until it came to their more personal information.

Both women were short, he noted: one being five feet six and the other an inch higher. He checked the details of the other three women and found their heights were much the same. Tynai women were much taller; six foot or thereabouts, averaging one or two inches smaller than Tynai male. Why are these Earth women so short?

Dranyn sat and viewed the images with Galbryn. Unlike our women, they had sexual maturation to fulfil. He paused in the midst of his friend’s puzzlement for a moment. They grew outwards and not upwards, so they’d be the right shape for baby-growing.

Galbryn noted their developed breasts and wider hips with distaste. Why do they cut their hair so short? It makes them look even uglier. I swear by Fymeno I’ll never be able to copulate with one of them.

The scientist laughed and slapped his friend’s back. Sorry to have to say it, but you’re the Ovitar and only thirty-three in age. It’ll be expected of you and there’s nothing you can do about that.

Galbryn looked away in thought for a moment. All this grief because one thousand years ago, the Stennans released a chemical into our atmosphere, rendering Catil women infertile. He gave Dranyn a disappointed glance. I’m beginning to wonder whether all the preparation was worth it.

Indeed. But so much is riding on this experiment. Not only in terms of bearing children in the conventional sense, but possibly even being able to transfer these women’s procreative genetic codes into our own women. If we don’t do this, the Roizers will surely beat us to it, one day.

Huh, they don’t have the technology. Nothing to worry about there.

Dranyn stretched and got up. You’re probably right; not yet, at least. But I reckon when they get wind of this project, they’ll try to shore up their lycroms and get them to comb the galaxy for suitable biological matches as we’ve done. He paused for a moment, while thinking of their own spurzots’ superiority in comparison to the Roizers’ androids. It’s just as well that Roizer lycroms can’t withstand galaxy hopping like the spurzots can.

Galbryn faced the images of the women again and wondered what the Roizers, Catil’s nearest neighbours, would think when word got to them about his people starting a new generation of Catils with women who could reproduce; a race of people who never again would have to rely on a laboratory to produce young again. They would be envious he was sure.

Or would they? The Roizers, like all Tynai men, had grown used to present day manufactured women. These odd looking ones, therefore, might evoke nothing more than – abhorrence. Abhorrence or not, he knew that he’d soon have to get used to the idea of them. He got up and switched the computer off. I’ve a feeling that the remedy is going to be worse than the catastrophe.

Dranyn opened the door for him. You look as though you’re being forced into mating with the Medusa.

Who’s Medusa?

Oh, a snake-haired woman from Earth mythology. Jyn told me about her.

Galbryn laughed. Right now, she seems the better of the two options.

* * * *

Branca turned sideways then faced forwards in front of the mirror again. She wondered whether her rose pink cocktail dress would do for the party. She’d almost decided upon her black one, but its low cut wouldn’t be suitable in front of Hugo’s elderly mother.

Glancing out of the bedroom window, she saw the early winter darkness. If she had the time, she would have wrapped up and gone for a walk, to unwind before dinner. But that wasn’t possible now.

She zipped up the pink dress and turned her attention to her dark brown hair. Glancing in the mirror, she brushed the short strands and arranged six diamante clips over the top of her head. The effect was attractive. The sparkle of the clips seemed to light up the whole of her face, masking the tiredness she felt after such a busy day of teaching.

Her phone’s ringing waylaid her stepping into a mist of perfume. Stretching and striding, she swiped it off the dresser and got back into the mist, just before it floated too far down to envelope the upper part of her body.

May I offer Cinderella a lift, so she gets to the ball on time?

Mike. Yes I’d love a lift. It’s the least you can do for forgetting to remind me about tonight. Besides, I don’t fancy driving in these heels, my dress is tight and I’m dead beat.

My-my, she complains, even though the crystal coach awaits and the frog is due to turn into a handsome prince at midnight in order to pay very special attention to that tight dress.

She laughed for a moment. You’re mixing your fairy-tales, and taking up too much time talking, when you could be making better use of it coming here to get me.

Message received. Be there in thirty minutes.

After gathering up her bag and coat, she walked through to the lounge. The anniversary present for the party was in the cupboard. She got it and settled into an armchair. Oscar, her cat, poised himself to jump up, but she discouraged him with a pointed finger and a firm, No. Not with me in this dress. He settled himself into a curled ball at her feet instead.

She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. Moments later, she jolted out of her snooze with the sound of Oscar’s spitting. Glancing downwards, she saw his arched back. He also paced sideways as cats do when they want to appear more formidable. Now alarmed, she nevertheless scoffed at herself and looked around the room. You silly old thing, she said. There’s nothing here. She bent to give the cat a reassuring stroke, but he shot to the end of the room, and sat by the door leading off to the kitchen.

Want to dive out into the night, to escape from an imaginary foe? She opened the door and, like an indulgent mother, watched him cross the kitchen and disappear through the cat-flap.

At that moment, something encircled her from behind and gripped her waist. Upon hearing the sound of spraying liquid, a horrible recollection came to her of being taken this way three months before, by the same strange creatures. They had taken her into a craft, run tests on her and deposited her back again as if nothing had happened. Consequently, she’d gone to work the next morning shell-shocked but unable to tell anyone lest she be thought quite mad.

Now, before she could even turn around, to look again at the same oval faces and the small dark eyes, she once again drifted away into blackness.

Chapter Two

Dranyn greeted Galbryn and Mantyn at the entrance of the Isolation Room, where the Earth women were being kept. It’s a pleasure to see you two at last. It’s taken three months for you to get here, but better late than not at all.

Curiosity finally got the better of us, said Galbryn. And we know the word’s getting about, from some Quistra members, that we haven’t come because we can’t bring ourselves to look at the women.

Which is true, said Mantyn, But we can see the folly in letting that be known.

The three men had been friends since childhood, and knew each other’s ways well. As a boy Galbryn had always stood out. Not because of his personality, but because of his golden blond hair. Usually, such a shade was given only to the female embryos, and the lightest a male Catil’s hair colour got was the same colour as Dranyn’s: a sandy brown. The majority of Catil men sported dark brown shades, similar to Mantyn’s, but by one mistake made by the genetic engineers, Galbryn’s hair had turned out that colour. The embryonic engineers almost destroyed him after they realised. However, they knew the specimen would also have dark brown eyes and would grow to be six foot three. On that basis, they decided he shouldn’t turn out to look effeminate. He didn’t, and woe-betide any of his school friends who dared tease him about his hair as well.

Even though the appearance of the three men had been in the hands of the genetic engineers, their personalities were exclusively their own. Nothing a scientist did could ever alter that, and with these particular men, it couldn’t be more obvious. Galbryn had a strong personality, a keen sense of humour, and a steadfast sense of honour. Had he not been the Ovitar, people often said he would have still been popular. If out of temper, however, nobody could smoulder for as long. Both men and women got out of the way at such times, and only his two closest friends took a chance and stayed the course of it.

Mantyn, a dry-witted character, was also known as a hot headed person at times. However, his mercurial temper rarely lasted more than a few minutes. Exacting with detail, he complemented Galbryn’s brash intelligence, by slowing down the pace when necessary, and applying the finishing touches. Women found his brown eyes irresistible and he wasted no time in taking every advantage of their admiration.

Dranyn often stood with a drink in his hand all evening, listening to the conversation. Sometimes, his discreetness made it almost impossible to know he was there. However, he often summed up an entire conversation after an hour or more, and stopped everyone in their tracks with his logical sense. His only problem was his shyness. Catil women never made the first move in the pairing process, and given that he felt he didn’t have the physical appeal of his two friends, he often passed on connecting with them. Yet he was tall, his eyes were greyish blue, and he belonged to the Science Rowing Team which, most of the women thought, took care of the rest.

The tour of the Isolation Room commenced. Dranyn noted the disappointed expressions on his friends’ faces. I take it you two aren’t impressed with the Earth women?

Mantyn shook his head. I half hoped that if we were to see the women in person, I might find something attractive about them, but I don’t.

Neither do I, said Galbryn.

Dranyn laughed at both of them. They’re not that bad, he said. And actually, they’re not too different from our women – just a few more bumps to negotiate that’s all. And their hair’s had time to grow, so their looks have improved a little. He faced Galbryn with a mocking smile. Perhaps you should pass a law forbidding them ever to cut their hair again."

So, how is it their hair’s still growing when they’ve been lying here almost dead for three months? asked Mantyn.

Dranyn laughed at his friend’s lack of scientific knowledge. They’re nowhere near dead, my friend. We’re just keeping them in an artificially induced coma while introducing them to Tynai air. That means their hair and finger nails will still grow.

The three men stopped and looked at the rows of beds on either side of them. Each woman was encased in glass, had a tube up her nose and a drip feeder in an arm. In the background, language tutorials, transmitted via small bedside computers, droned like humming bees. In order for these sounds to permeate their minds and hypnotise them into learning the Catil language, the women were fitted with headsets, through which the foreign words were piped.

They came to the fourth bed and Galbryn picked up a diamante clip lying on the table.

What’s this?

The scientist shrugged. We found them in the woman’s hair. She’s an unusual subject.

The three men looked at her sleeping body.

She’s the only one who ever speaks over the top of the language programme. She opens her eyes a lot as well, though of course, she isn’t focussing properly.

What does she say?

No idea as a rule, because she speaks in her Earth language. As you know, I’ve got Jyn programmed to translate it. He said that most of her mutterings are about somebody called Mike. This word, apparently, is a derivative of an Earth man’s name. He placed his sheets of data down and beckoned to his two friends. Come and have a glass of malva in my office.

The office, sectioned out in crystal panelling, was situated just off the main observation room. Through the clear partition, the five women were still visible. Dranyn took three glasses from a small cabinet and poured the drinks. He handed Mantyn a glass and again noted the distaste on his face. Shantz, my friend, anybody would think they were untouchable. We’re not seeing them at their best, certainly. They’ll probably turn out quite pretty, when they’re up and about. I think the chatterer has very attractive blue eyes.

So do many of our women.

Of course they do. But I’ve never seen them combined with dark hair and pale skin before like that. He looked towards Branca, then back again. The other two men stared at their glasses with indifference. They drank in silence for a while.

You’re very quiet. What’s bothering you? Dranyn asked in response to Galbryn’s pensive mood.

Those women hold the key to Catil becoming real again. I’d hate to see it all go wrong.

I’d say we are real, said Mantyn.

In many ways, yes. Galbryn paused, looking down in thought for a moment. But it doesn’t seem right that the past six hundred years have seen successive Catil generations living and dying, having never produced their own offspring. That’s not what makes us real.

We do produce our own offspring. It just isn’t done in what once was the natural way, that’s all. So we come from the laboratory, what’s wrong with that? We all turn out all right, so why try and change things? We’ve all got used to our way of life now. Our women don’t feel inadequate, because we’ve learned to accept them as they are. And when they become too old to please us anymore, they still find fulfilment in being a Tratenna. They’ve always been happy. We’ve always been happy. What’s the problem?

Galbryn settled into a chair, clasped his hands behind his head and gazed at his friends for a moment. Haven’t you ever felt there’s something missing?

Mantyn thought for a moment then answered, Of course not.

There is. Galbryn continued. Oh all right, we’ve everything we want here. We live to a high standard, in an advanced society. We are one of the most respected planets in this universe, because we’ve mastered the combined challenge of being both strong and high-thinking. We live in peace, so there’s no bloodshed anymore. We’ve even learned to settle ourselves into civilised dislike for our enemies, such as the Roizers, in order to avoid the futility of killing. Our society is equal. We have spurzots to look after us, and do the jobs we hate doing. Nobody is too far beneath their neighbour, or is made to feel inadequate by that neighbour, because each shares the same material wealth. But for all that, something is missing.

If you mean that our women can’t have children, I don’t see the problem. It’s not as if we’re the only country with infertile women. It’s the same for all the women on Tynai.

Galbryn got up and looked through the partition. No, my friend, it’s not that. It’s the completeness. The satisfaction of knowing we’ve created a child, simply by committing a natural function. It’s not enough for us to be juggling about with x and y chromosomes in a test tube. We need to be fathers. Our women need to be mothers once more. And the last words we want on our lips before we die are, ‘I never really existed, because no offspring of mine is left behind’.

He sat again. But there’s something else none of us shares, and hasn’t for generations.

What’s that?

I honestly don’t know yet. But I’m sure the women in that room hold the key to it.

The door at the furthest end of the observation room opened and five spurzots entered.

They’ve come to wash the women, said Dranyn.

Galbryn and Mantyn got up to leave but then became rooted in fascination. The spruzots removed the glass casing and covering sheets from the women, revealing their nakedness. Dranyn, by now used to seeing the women naked, noticed his friends’ surprised faces.

Mantyn murmured with a note of distaste, Shantz, they’ve got hair in the same places as us. It’s revolting.

Galbryn swallowed down his disgust and didn’t answer.

Not quite, said Dranyn. They don’t have hair on their chests as we do.

They’ve got those things in the front instead, said Mantyn. What are they for? Keeping them afloat when swimming?

The other two laughed.

Walking out of the office, Mantyn turned to Galbryn and asked, How many women were you considering keeping in Shildor, my friend?

I planned on three staying here, with the other two going to Hintryn and Modanryn.

You’ll obviously have one of them. Did you have me in mind for one of the other two?

Of course.

Ahh, I don’t think so. Unlike you, I don’t have an overwhelming desire to become a father. They walked down the corridor. In fact, even if I was starved of female company for months on end, nothing would get me to have one of them.

Don’t you want to be one of the first to show them a Catil man’s metal?

I’ll leave that distinction to you and Dranyn…if you can persuade him.

* * * *

The day before the women were due to be brought round from their long sleep, Galbryn and Mantyn strolled across the lawn, from Shildor House, the Ovitar’s residence, towards the stables. Being busy men, they found the only time they could fit in an hour’s riding was before breakfast. Each man enjoyed the challenge of racing their kultrizers across the plains, just outside the town. They also liked to race each other and kept a running total of how many wins each had over the other. The two men thought that their good natured, competitive spirit helped to keep them sharp in mind as well as body.

We’re now entering Phase Three of the Earth women Plan, said Galbryn. which will mean familiarising them to our culture. Most people are curious about them and want to meet them, which is understandable.

Some of the Quistra are asking why we’re accommodating the Earth women in the Quadrangle as opposed to putting them in the Women’s House, said Mantyn

I know. But I’ve been advised that it would be too stressful to plunge them straight into our culture. They need a place where they can feel part of our society, but be distant enough to retreat if they feel the need.

I suppose it would be premature to accommodate them with our woman without a period of getting used to each other as well, Mantyn agreed.

Also on their minds that morning was an event, due to take place in four weeks time: a celebration of the Earth women’s arrival, in which representatives from all corners of Tynai were invited.

Now for another matter, said Mantyn. I think we should invite the Roizers to the celebration.

Why? It would only make them envious, and strain relations between us even more.

Nevertheless, it’s good diplomacy to invite them. It’ll keep Shamb sweet, and give Donta less ammunition to fire our way.

The two men lapsed into silence as they thought of Donta, the Roizer. Galbryn loathed him. Both were the same age, and had known each other since childhood. They used to visit each other’s schools on exchange visits, as part of the Roizer-Catil diplomatic relations plan. Often as a boy, Galbryn was sickened by Donta’s cruelty, for he used to indulge in dubious activities, such as nailing the young of a small feline creature to a tree-trunk by their back legs, while still alive.

Donta felt no respect whatsoever for women either. Galbryn always marvelled at how well he kept this hidden. When in their company, he impressed them with his feigned charm, his equally feigned gallantry and his good looks. In nature, however, Galbryn also knew that, apart from being cruel, Donta was dishonest, manipulative and clever. The latter also made him dangerous.

But Galbryn knew that Mantyn was right; Catil and Roizer relations were always on wobbly footing and not to invite them to the celebration could be seen as an outright insult. All right, invite them, he said. It won’t do much harm, I suppose.

They entered the stable courtyard and the spurzot grooms greeted them. The androids were in the middle of feeding and mucking out the stalls. The two men stopped at Lanso’s stall, the home of Mantyn’s mount. He greeted the snorting animal with a pat on the nose. Will the women be awake by tomorrow evening?

They’ll be awake early in the morning, according to the physicians. I’ve told Jyn to get their spurzots ready and waiting in the Quadrangle.

You’ll have first choice of the women, then?

The question pulled Galbryn up short. He placed his hands on his hips and looked down in thought for a moment. I hadn’t thought of that.

Been putting off thinking about the dreaded day?

Galbryn sighed. I suppose I’ll want the one who’ll give me the strongest sons and the most beautiful daughters. Isn’t that how our ancestors used to think?

The groom unbolted the stall and led the kultrizer out. It clip-clopped out onto the flagstones, and nuzzled its nose in Mantyn’s hands. My friend, judging by the look of them, you’ll be hard-pressed to find one who’s going to give you children with those assets.

Galbryn walked off to his kultrizer’s stall, three places down, calling out, Then I’ll just choose the one who’s going to give me the least resistance.

His friend looked puzzled.

So I can get the job over with quickly.

Chapter Three

Branca woke up feeling refreshed and contented. She tried to think whether it was a Saturday or a Sunday. But for some reason, she knew it wasn’t a weekday. As she rolled over and lay on her back, she sensed that something was different. It was dark, as winter mornings are, but it didn’t smell like her bedroom. It was warmer than usual for one thing. Also, she couldn’t hear the central heating boiler hissing away in her kitchen. Moving her legs about, she realised that Oscar her cat wasn’t there either, and he always slept at the bottom of her bed in winter.

She turned to check the luminous dials on her clock, but felt nothing. Sitting up, she looked around, but it was still too dark to see anything. She saw only a few dim shapes in the room and these weren’t familiar at all. Something was definitely wrong.

Instead of touching her light-switch, when she got out of bed, she felt glass doors instead. Panic rose in her chest, but she forced it away and sat back on the bed to think.

Why, she whispered aloud, am I in a strange bedroom? What was the last thing I remember doing? She couldn’t recall anything. Maybe, she thought, I’m ill and in intensive care, or something? And the nurses aren’t about yet? She knew that people who’d been in car crashes couldn’t remember anything afterwards. But her body seemed whole and she felt no pain…so it wasn’t that.

After gathering a little more courage, she grappled about in the dark until she came to the glass doors again. These opened easily. It was warm outside. It can’t be January then, she thought, but…it was winter before, wasn’t it?

When her eyes became accustomed to the moonlight, she stepped forward and noticed she stood on a veranda. The night air smelled tropical as well; not at all like the damp, muskiness of England. Looking out, she saw a square lawn, edged with shadowy palm trees and flowering shrubs.

The veranda was rectangular, with doors leading off of it. It looked similar to a chalet hotel or a lodge of some kind. The whole place seemed light, even though it was night. That didn’t make sense to her, for she couldn’t see any outside lights on the veranda.

She looked up and knew…well…half knew. Never mind not being in England, she wasn’t even on Earth. Earth only has one moon, and up in this sky there were two. She felt scared then; scared enough to run…anywhere.

A door opened on the other side of the veranda and a woman appeared. The two of them stared like meerkats on watch at each other for a moment.

The stranger turned to retreat back to her room and Branca whispered for her to wait. It flashed across her mind at that moment that she had just made this request in a different language. In pure reflex action, she stopped to consolidate that bombshell, before tiptoeing around the veranda.

Branca noted that the other woman was approximately the same height as herself, but unlike her, she had shoulder length blonde hair. Her large greyish-green eyes looked glacial and frightened.

I think my name’s Marianne, she whispered. But I’m not sure. I’ve no idea what I’m doing here. I don’t suppose you know, do you?

I don’t know why I’m here either.

I…I’m not even speaking in my own language. For some reason, I’m thinking in French and converting to…what language are we speaking?

I don’t know that either, but whatever it is, I’m thinking in English and converting to it as well.

They paused again for a moment as though trying to find the answers to questions in each other’s faces. Branca wondered whether she should tell Marianne about the two moons, but the other woman looked too frightened to take any additional shock.

Marianne gripped Branca’s arm and pulled her inside to a room that was large, luxurious and air conditioned, making a pleasant contrast to the sticky heat outside. The furniture looked as though it was made of raffia; similar to that in an expensive Earth conservatory. Branca ran her hands over the top of a small sofa and was surprised to feel its silky, woven fabric.

What’s happened to us? asked Marianne. They both sat on the sofa.

I think we’ve been abducted.

Abducted.

Glancing beyond the other woman’s shoulder, Branca saw the beginning of a strange redness in the morning sky. Red sky in the morning, shepherd’s warning, she rambled to herself. But not – Earth shepherds, surely?

What do you mean, abducted? asked the other woman? If we were prisoners, we wouldn’t be allowed to wander about, would we?

Perhaps they know there’s nowhere for us to escape to, Branca answered, while still gazing at the red phenomenon.

In the confused silence, both women sank back into the softness of the sofa as if to find comfort there.

The dawn’s coming up already. I wonder what the time is, Branca finally said. There are no clocks anywhere. She got up and looked around the room. Nor telephones. Glancing down at Marianne, she noticed that her companion wore the same clothes as her own. And why are we dressed like this? She glanced at the mirror on the wall. My God, my hair’s grown. It used to be short, right up to my ears. And now look, it’s right down by back. She turned and whispered, No wonder we can’t remember anything. We must have been here for months.

But…how could so much time pass, without us knowing about it?

Maybe, maybe we’ve been asleep. No that’s absurd.

Somebody from outside screamed, Don’t you come anywhere near me!

Both women ran out of the apartment.

In the centre of the veranda three other women, dressed in the same white shifts, stood with rigid bodies and scared expressions.

Opposite them on the other side of the balustrade, a group of spurzots gazed back at the women. Their small dark eyes, set in oval faces, conveyed a kindly message. All were clad in blue shorts, revealing stick thin legs, minus knee joints. Their white T-shirts displayed arms as thin as their legs, and on their feet, red laced boots completed a picture of effete creatures, only just falling into the male gender category. The tufts of light blue hair on the tops of their heads, waving about in the breeze, might even have given them a comical appearance, had the women not been so frightened.

Branca knew she’d seen the spurzots before, but couldn’t remember where. Then she remembered. These were the same creatures who had taken her to the spacecraft that night.

Even though they all looked similar, one of the spurzots stood out from the rest. He continually wrung his hands in front of him and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if standing on something hot.

Red dawn, completely up now, shone on the spurzots’ faces, giving their papery skin a pinkish appearance. Still nobody said anything. The situation grew more bizarre when the five women, though strangers, gravitated together as would lifelong friends.

Eventually, Branca called out, Who are you? Why have you brought us here?

One of the spurzots stepped forward in a wobbling sort of way. Good morning, Ralyestas. We are spurzots, and have come to be your personal helpers. The creature’s voice, had an inhuman but pleasant sound.

A woman with red hair whispered, I hope they don’t, you know, get the idea of moving in on us.

She spoke in English, with an Australian accent and Branca cheered up a little to hear it.

They don’t look as if they do, she answered. They look, well, too effeminate and small.

Nah. You’re right. The Australian relaxed and gave a dismissive snort.

The spruzots moved forward again. The other women screamed and Branca said,

You’d better stay where you are. At least until you’ve told us where we are, and why we’re here.

Ralyestas, said Jyn, the head spurzot. You are in Shildor, the chief city of Catil.

The women turned to each other. Next to Marianne and the Australian an Asian woman shivered with fright. Another woman with long dark hair, retreated back until leaning against an apartment’s wall.

Branca turned back to the spurzots. We’re not on Earth are we?

No, Ralyesta. You are on Tynai, answered Jyn.

And we’ve been here…how long?

Six months. We froze you to get you here, and then kept you in a deep coma for that amount of time.

The women mumbled to each other. Branca stepped forward a little. And you’ve trained us to speak in your language, haven’t you?

You are speaking in the Catil language, yes.

Indignation welled up in her. Why? What do you want from us? We’re nothing like you.

But you are very much like us.

That, the women realised, was a real man’s voice. They swung round towards it to see six men coming through the Quadrangle’s large, double gates. The men were dressed in tunics of various muted colours, long narrow trousers and boots.

The men joined the spurzots on the lawn, each standing with his feet apart and his hands behind his back. The spurzots, who were five feet seven inches in height, looked small beside the men, who were at least seven inches taller.

The blond haired man spoke first. I’m Ovitar Galbryn. As Jyn has just said, you’re now living on a world called Tynai. He waited for a response, but got nothing. Instead, the women bunched even closer together and placed themselves behind Branca.

Tynai is sixty thousand light years away from your Earth, he continued.

More shocked mumbling came from the women and Branca asked, Why?

Galbryn turned to consult with Mantyn and Dranyn. Moments later, he turned and faced the women again. We want to be honest with you. We’ve brought you here to bear our children.

The dark haired woman fainted. The rest, being stunned into immobility, could only gaze down at her prostrate body on the wooden floor.

Somewhat shaken now, Galbryn ordered one of the spruzots to fetch her a drink of water.

Marianne whispered to Branca, This is a bad joke, isn’t it?

"I don’t think it is. I saw two moons in the sky, just before the sun came up. We’re definitely not on Earth. And unless a miracle happens, we’re never likely to get back there either. Not