Bad Penny

Sequel to Off The Wall

Chapter 1

Sir James Lester was having a bad day.

There were no particular reasons for it being a bad day, it just was. Nothing seemed to be going right.

The geeks had broken a bit off their new toy and were now having to reorder the one piece they'd had to order in from abroad. The nutty professor was nuttier than usual, but at least he was being quiet about it. Lizard girl and the she-geek had been having a blazing row for half of the day so far, and it was only lunch time. What was worse, Becker had disappeared off with half his men to investigate a new anomaly and had neglected to take the boy wonder and his cronies with him. Now, to cap it all, there was tuna on his sandwiches. He hated tuna! All because he forgot one silly anniversary! It wasn't even as if it was his wedding anniversary: it was the anniversary of their first date, or first kiss or something. Didn't his wife realise he had slightly more important things to worry about? But she wouldn't talk about it. Oh no, never that. And so there was tuna.

James Lester threw his sandwiches in the bin, got up and headed in the direction of the canteen. As he left his office he passed a random secretary.

"Get someone to empty that bin, will you," he muttered, waving a hand in the direction of the offending article. "It stinks."

Once Lester's back was safely turned and disappearing, the secretary peeked a head into the office and glanced at the contents of the bin. It was empty with the exception of one small, forlorn, tinfoil wrapped package. The secretary frowned, picked up the package and threw it in the waste bin of the office next door. She walked on, more concerned with her own troublesome life, and the choices she would have to make at the hairdressers this Saturday, than with Sir James Lester's abhorrence of tinfoil packages.

XXXX

"Come on, Professor," Connor sighed, glancing over his shoulder at the door to Nick's office. "We need you here properly! Not just sitting staring into space!"

Nick stared blankly at the wall opposite. Connor didn't wave a hand in front of Nick's face: he'd tried that two weeks ago when they brought him back through the Triassic anomaly. It hadn't made any difference then and it wouldn't now. He had to keep trying, though: keep talking. For one thing, it seemed that Nick was the only person he could talk to without fear of putting his foot in it, or at least getting the backlash from putting his foot in it.

For the past two weeks, since they had returned from Cornwall, Nick Cutter had sat in his office staring into space. He hadn't moved, not that they'd noticed. He hadn't gone home. They'd been too concerned they'd never see him again if they'd taken him there themselves. He hadn't eaten, slept, drank or anything. Well, he might have slept, Connor thought: there wasn't someone watching him all night as well as all day.

The thing with the ARC was that there was everything there: beds, showers, kitchens. Whatever they needed, they had. Connor often wondered if someone had been considering the possibility of a siege when the place was built!

He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Look, Professor," he began. "I know it's been rough, these past few months. What with losing Stephen like that, and now Jenny disappearing. But we really need you here. I can't run this thing! Lester: he does the management side and all that, and Becker's good for the catching them and so on, but when that's done, they look to me to find out what they are and what to do with them. I'm the one they come to now for all the science stuff. I was fine when it was just computers and dinosaurs, but now! Now it's like the fate of the world rests on my shoulders and I haven't got a clue what's going on!

Come on, Professor: I can't manage my own ironing, never mind this place! I've got Abby sulking because everyone comes to me, not her; Nigel's besotted with his new version of the imploder; Peta keeps trying to talk to me about what's going on with that and every time she does, she ends up in an argument with Abby! I can't do this! It's too much! I'm not supposed to be the leader: I'm the accident prone one! The one who can't handle a gun! The one who shoots people in the leg with tranquillisers! The one gets conned by some woman working for a madman! If anyone should be taking a holiday from reality, it should be me: not you. At least you can actually do this job!"

XXXX

Becker and his men surrounded the small pool. It was just a hot tub actually. The owner had spotted something odd in it and had called the RSPCA. Luckily, all calls that may in any way, shape or form be linked to an anomaly were monitored and this one had been picked up quickly.

The anomaly itself had not been sighted. That was definite. The owner of the hot tub had no idea how the creature had managed to get where it was. He had just gone to switch it on and there it was, swimming quite happily round in circles.

It was still swimming happily round in circles, but Becker had no idea what it was, so there were currently half a dozen rifles following it round in circles. Even Becker was starting to get dizzy by the time someone brought a net!

It took another half hour to get the thing out and into the large goldfish bowl that their host had kindly provided, but up close it was clear that it was definitely more than just a large goldfish. It was a dull grey for starters and instead of scales it seemed to have some kind of armour plating.

"Let's see if this brings Cutter out of his trance," Becker muttered as they transferred their new find to the back of the land rover. A fresh-faced recruit looked up in horror as the bowl was placed in his lap.

"Why do I have to hold it, sir?"

"Just do it, Simmons!" Becker replied. "It's only a fish!"

XXXX

Mrs Trescothyck peered out between her kitchen curtains. That was the fourth lorry going along that road today. It was all very well asking if they could use her land to turn in, but what they were doing with their cargo was just plain odd.

The trucks stopped at the top of the gully and turned into her field, by the old barn that those nice people from the government had stayed in. Men in military uniforms unloaded large crates and boxes and disappeared down into the gully with them. Once the truck was empty, it would turn, disappear back up the road and return some hours later with another cargo. At least, well, she wasn't sure now: was it the same lorry or four different ones? They all looked so alike, you see.

Rumour had it that they were building down at the old Chenery place at the bottom of the valley. It certainly looked like there was something going on there. Why they would want to build anything down there was a mystery to Mrs Trescothyck. It was powerful difficult to get down there on foot, never mind carrying a big crate of whatever with you, even if you did have help.

Mrs Trescothyck tutted. She hadn't minded them at first: they'd got rid of whatever had taken her chickens and that young girl in charge had been ever so lovely to her. She'd felt sorry for them when the other young girl had turned up to tell her that her friend had been rushed to hospital and she would be collecting both their belongings. It was a shame they'd all had to leave so suddenly without really saying goodbye, or thank you, but she could understand it if someone had been hurt and they did all look very upset about it.

These men with their lorries and their boxes, now: they were different. Never a word to her. In and out at all times of the day and night. Churning up the mud in her low field. She sighed and tutted again, then turned away from the window. Ah well: she had work of her own to be getting on with and she didn't have teams of fine strapping young men to do it for her.