Without warning she hunched down, motioning Madeleine to do the same. Madeleine slid out of her chair to kneel on the patio deck, then turned to see why they were hiding.
A grey navy ship was easing backward out of the narrow eastern part of the bay. Even though she couldn’t see anyone on the deck, Madeleine shifted underneath the edge of the patio table, and Noi joined her, making a shooing motion at Min, who was staring out at them.
"Blues escaping?" Madeleine whispered, though there was no way they could be overheard.
"Green navy waiting at the headlands for anyone sneaking out of the harbour?"
It was the more likely explanation. Madeleine and Noi waited until the ship had gained reasonable distance, then slipped back into the apartment, joining the others in watching through the glass.
"Chances are good they’ll have something similar to stop people going up-river," Noi said.
"Not an insurmountable obstacle, however." Nash hadn’t slept very late for someone who’d had most of the night watch. "A small, unlit boat in the dark would have a good chance of–"
He broke off as Pan gripped his arm, and they all stared, speechless, at a ribbon of light following the ship.
Snake-like and perhaps the length of three buses, it was widest along the front third, where what seemed to be a dozen layers of diaphanous wings marked a lazy, complicated beat. The wings were shaped like sails, triangles of light which thinned to insubstantiality, just like the long trailing tail of the thing. It swooped, lifted, glided: a dandelion seed of a monster decorating the sky.
"Is there someone riding that?"
The distance made it difficult to be sure, but there did seem to be two points of solidity near the very front, before the wings.
They watched until their view was blocked by the eastern headland, then Min said: "So, no going out on the patio except at night?"
"And I was worried they’d have possessed some survivors who knew how to fly helicopters." Noi reluctantly slid the patio door shut. "Until we have some better idea of how often those things will fly over, and whether they happen to have night vision, no going out at all."
Chapter Eleven
Madeleine had taken to biting her nails, unable to settle to anything, shifting from room to room, scouring the internet for news then not wanting to read it. She had a most wondrous portrait boiling inside her and couldn’t let herself progress now the sketch was transferred, couldn’t immerse herself in paint and escape the new world. Pan wasn’t much better, debating plans of action with Min, who seemed to delight in pointing out problems with every idea, their squabbles getting on Madeleine’s nerves until she realised that Pan was less edgy after these minor spats.
The television delivered a constant stream of bad news. Stain appearing anywhere and everywhere, infection blown on the wind. Families on the fringes of dust zones where there’d been no rain, gambling with their lives when food supplies ran low. Millions of displaced overwhelming non-Spire cities. Fights over food, water, face masks. Glimpses of Moths making themselves at home while Greens buried bodies and restored services, even travelling out of their cities on errands. New religions, and established ones grown strange and angry, calling disaster a judgment, a test. Very occasionally a sighting of a creature of light, every description different from the last.
To Madeleine’s surprise, not a single government, pre-existing or hastily formed, agreed to obey the Moths' demand for Blues. Officially. But Blues were handed over all the same: countless quiet betrayals.
Once, a spectacular battle on the fringes of Buenos Aires had been streamed. Two girls running from, then fighting back against a group who’d been discreetly drugging and delivering up local Blues. The girls had shield-paralysed most of them, and killed one, before stumbling into an army detachment. No-one seemed able to decide who should go to jail.
The phrase "the greater good" reached fingernails-on-chalkboard frequency, and the fourth day after the attack at the beach the robotic Warning! Warning! of Min’s walkway alarm came almost as a relief.
Madeleine, sitting on the rug near the closed patio door, glanced at the laptop set on an ottoman next to the television, but whatever had triggered the alarm was already out of camera range, in the small foyer where they would have a choice of doors, an elevator, or stairs.
"Go! Go!"
Nash, voice sharp and low, was already scouring the room, while Pan turned off the television and bent to mute the walkway monitor and switch the laptop to camera mode before tucking it out of sight. Madeleine grabbed her big sketchbook and dashed to the main floor bathroom.
They’d made it a rule to wipe down the shower after use, and by the middle of the day it had had time to dry thoroughly. It was quick work to swipe a handtowel around the sink, and glance to ensure nothing looked out of the ordinary. Then a race for her bedroom, trying not to pound the metal of the circular stair, to double-check her en suite, and close the wardrobe doors before heading to the quickly-filling study.
She’d managed to be second-last, Fisher following her through the door with the garbage bag of kitchen scraps, which he tucked into a pre-cleared file drawer after pulling the bookshelf door closed. And then they settled in, Noi sitting next to the computer, Pan underneath the desk, and Emily perched on top of the filing cabinet. Min, Nash, Fisher and Madeleine sat on the floor, legs in a tangle because there really was no room – they’d had to remove the chair after the first practice run so they could all fit in.
The computer was already set split-screen between the walkway and lounge room webcams. Neither showed movement, and there was a frustrating wait while they all wished they’d dared risk more cameras, and wondered if it had been a false alarm. Minutes ticked by with no sign of movement.
Pan, playing with a laptop and headphones, suddenly sat upright, knocking his skull against the underside of the desk. The noise wasn’t truly loud, but in the strained silence it felt like a shout.
Rather than apologetic, Pan looked excited, waving the laptop in response to frowns. Nash made a get on with it gesture, and Pan paused a moment to launch a word-processor and type:
ALIEN OVERLORD SINGING ON YOUTUBE
He waited till they had all had a chance to be properly incredulous, then switched windows to show the Japanese Blue, the Core of Taiee. She seemed to just be standing, smiling cheerfully at the camera, but when Pan passed the headphone ear buds around they could all hear the oscillating song which was presumed to be the aliens' language.
Noi snagged a notepad and pen from the desk and scribbled: What’s the text say? Googletrans plz.
A few clicks later they could see the clip was titled: "First" and the text below, posted by "Taiee", said: "First challenge calclass="underline" Lot-nak".
This was hyperlinked, and Pan followed it to a site – a blog entry which was in Japanese but proved to also say "First challenge calclass="underline" Lot-nak" above a time and date, a map of a golf course with a line drawn around its borders, a hyperlink to the video, and last a picture of a small glowing ball which had just a suggestion of paws and trailing ears.
"That’s tomorrow?" Nash asked, then made an apologetic face.
Noi held up her pad: Why are they using the internet? Can’t they use their ships to talk to each other?
Min took the pad from her: Must have same limitations we do – without satellites, can’t communicate on other side of planet. Makes sense to use our tech, especially since they’re in human bodies.