JACQUI was lost for words for a long time, as she tried her best to take in these revelations. That explains the security fence around Wistbourne, she realised. No wonder the story was being kept secret from the world at large! Real live extraterrestrials—non-human ones—and in England! A sort of ‘Roswell incident’—but in reality, not in the vivid imaginings of conspiracy-theorists. And she was actually going to meet these creatures. If only Grandad were still alive! Clearly, from his account, he must have suspected something—but he never learnt the whole truth.

And what was this task for which they wanted her participation? As soon as Jacqui had sufficiently collected herself, she put the question.

“We’re having little or no luck in communicating with these—beings.” said Captain Moon. “They are unable to speak, and we assume they cannot hear us. They do not need feeding, but they live in saline water from which they appear to be absorbing nutrients. You’ll see. They do not seem to possess the ‘disintegrating’ power—or if they do, they are not using it—which is just as well. But we are getting ‘messages’ of a sort from these beings. You may laugh at this, but it’s the only lead we’ve got. The messages are in the form of dreams.”

“Dreams?” asked Jacqui. “What sort of dreams? Have you been having dreams about alien planets?”

“Not me personally. One of my men: among his duties he has to often visit their habitat. You’ll meet him: it’s best that you get it from him at first hand. And in one of the dreams the name ‘Hartmead’ seems to have figured. They may be ‘asking’ for someone in the Hartmead family to come to them—and you’re the only living relative of Gavin and June Hartmead. It’s worth trying. That’s where you come in. I will also say this—off the record,” she added, with a glance at Major Dawson, who nodded. “I’ll be really relieved—and so will the whole MoD—to get these—things—off our backs. Perhaps you can find a way…?”

Now Jacqui understood. Perhaps the idea was to repatriate the beings to their home planet—but how? Earth-made unmanned space­craft had ventured as far as Pluto and the Kuiper belt, but these creatures must surely come from another star system, and she knew interstellar travel was utterly beyond human technology…

And it may be an old joke, but Jacqui certainly knew nothing about ‘rocket science’!

She took her leave of the two officers, who promised that they’d be in touch again in a week or two. So all she could do now was sit and wait.

*

Jacqui was afraid that Paul might quiz her closely about her meeting, but luckily he confined himself to the usual banter, which she could tolerate, however tiresome. “So, that woman you’ve been to see—she keeps a flying saucer in her back garden, I suppose. Did she take you for a ride?” Witticisms like these Jacqui had no difficulty in rebutting.

At length a message came from Captain Moon, inviting Jacqui to present herself, not in the vicinity of Wistbourne as she had expected, but at RAF Northolt, not far from Heathrow Airport. Autumn was already well advanced, and a steady cold drizzle was falling as she made her way there, wrapped in a warm overcoat. As she had already guessed, she found waiting for her, not a car, but a helicopter. Captain Moon greeted her on the tarmac. She seemed in a more affable mood: gone was the formality of the meeting in Joyce’s flat, and Helen insisted that she and Jacqui were now on first-name terms.

“We’ve got the go-ahead, Jacqui,” she explained. “This is the only way to get to Wistbourne. All ground access has been sealed off. I received the report that you’d been seen on the footpath next to the fence, but it doesn’t matter—you’d never have found out anything. And I’ve been given permission to reveal some more to you, before we fly. We’ve got about half an hour before our pilot arrives.” She gestured to Jacqui to follow her into a small building.

There, she took out a smartphone, busied herself with entering several passwords, and then handed it to Jacqui. “Please don’t be alarmed at what you’re about to see. It can be unnerving at first. But I can assure you, the creatures seem to be quite harmless.”

A video was running. Jacqui could see a small room apparently flooded with water a few inches deep. In it were three worm-like creatures, light greyish-green in colour, with darker brown bands spaced at intervals along their bodies. Some sort of eel, she sup­posed. Different lengths: Helen explained that the shortest was about two feet long and the longest just over seven feet. Occasionally the longest one would coil itself into a sort of spiral and raise one of its ends, which was most curiously adorned with a sort of flare—like the bell of a trumpet. Jacqui noticed that the other end of the creature, which remained underwater, had a similar flare, but much smaller in diameter. The rest of its body seemed to be roughly triangular in cross-section, about three or four inches across.

“We’ve dubbed them ‘Sousaphones’—‘Sous’ for short,” said Helen, “because that’s what they remind us of, when they curl up like that.”

“What is a ‘Sousaphone’?” asked Jacqui.

“Don’t you know? It’s a brass band instrument, a bit like a huge trumpet, but coiled up so that the performer can wear it round their body. It sounds a very deep note like a tuba. A lot easier to march with than a big tuba, I can tell you! I used to play one myself. They were invented by an American composer named John Philip Sousa, who wrote a lot of well-known marching music, like The Washing­ton Post and The Liberty Bell.” Helen hummed bits of the tunes.

“Oh yes, I recognise those all right—the Monty Python music!—and yes I’ve seen those funny coiled trumpets: I just didn’t know what they were called. So that’s what you’re calling these … eel-things. I suppose it figures.”

“The two flared ends,” continued Helen, “we’re calling the ‘Big Bell’ and ‘Little Bell’—again from the trumpet-bell appearance. And we’ve also given them individual names. At first we thought of them as worms, so we call the long one ‘Wiggy’, the medium, ‘Wally’, and the short one ‘Weeny’. Sorry about the names—I’m sure you’d have come up with something better!”

Jacqui zoomed in on Wiggy’s ‘Bells’: both of which were now raised out of the water and apparently pointing at the camera. The inner surface of the larger one presented some sort of mottling, but there were no orifices that she could see. Maybe the bells were some sort of sense-organ. In a little while the video came to an end.

“Just before she gave birth, the girl-Foundling did give us some instructions. It was the first time any of them had spoken for a long time. Her offspring would have to be provided with water of a certain salinity, and an atmosphere somewhat enriched in CO2. Apart from that, they would need no feeding, and they would produce no visible waste—but the water had to be replaced from time to time with certain nutrients added. She seemed very anxious for us to look after the progeny, assuring us that they would do us no harm.

“When the ‘Sous’ were—er—born, the obstetrician was so taken aback that he fainted. But it appeared to be a simple delivery. There was no umbilical and no placenta. The girl didn’t seem to have anything wrong with her, afterwards, but as you know she and the two boys all died soon after. The girl didn’t show any signs of ‘bonding’ with the progeny, which were immediately taken from her and placed in the habitat we’d prepared.”

At this point a young man came into the building—evidently the pilot—and announced that he was ready to take off. So Jacqui and Helen followed him to the helicopter, carefully ducking under the rotors which were already spinning, and boarded.

*

The flight was a short one. As the aircraft came in to land, Jacqui thought she could make out Gomhurst below, and then the boundary fence surrounding Wistbourne: a complete circle. Various buildings were scattered inside the area bounded by the fence, with one larger cluster which she guessed was Wistbourne itself. Indeed, the helicopter set down gently on what she assumed had once been the village green, although it was now tarmac’d over.

Wistbourne was a dismal affair. The ‘picture-postcard’ village, as Grandad had described it, was long gone—although Jacqui felt that if Grandad were here he might recognise some of the buildings sur­rounding the former green. All the elms were gone—although that might have been the disease. The church was still in good repair, although boarded up like almost all the rest of the buildings, many of which were in a state of decrepitude: some of them even partially collapsed. A few of the houses seemed to be maintained as living quarters for the Army detachment that was based here. All the thatched roofs were gone, replaced in many cases by ugly corrugated cement. As for Wistbourne Brook, Jacqui could see no sign of it: probably culverted or diverted. There was still the War Memorial, carefully tended with a wreath lying against it and surrounded by a small circle of grass—the only greenery visible in the place. The roads leading out of the village were blocked off with heavy gates. Jacqui was almost in tears as she recalled Grandad’s account of a pretty, thriving village full of peaceful folk… until…

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But Jacqui had no time to explore what remained of the village, since she and Helen were hustled into a waiting jeep and driven the short distance to what she assumed was the Manor House, passing en route through yet another security gate.

Inside the Manor, they were given a briefing, mainly for Jacqui’s benefit, by the Sergeant on duty. The aliens were much the same as they had always been, he told them. In the thirty-four or so years that they had been kept there, they had shown no sign of growth nor indeed any other physical change. They still could not speak or communicate in any way other than these mysterious ‘dreams’. It was not even known if they could see or hear.

Helen asked the Sergeant to send for Corporal Townsend—explaining to Jacqui while they were waiting that this was the man who had had the dreams. A short, slightly dumpy man in his twenties, with ginger hair, and wearing a corporal’s uniform, came into the room.

“Corporal Townsend, may I introduce you to Mrs Jacqueline Coombes—formerly Jacqueline Hartmead.” Upon hearing that name the corporal raised his eyebrows. “Yes,” continued Helen, “she is the granddaughter of Gavin and June Hartmead. So tell her all you can.”

“Well,” began the corporal, “I’d just gone into the habitat for the routine check on the … does Ms Hartmead know about our charges, Sir?” As Helen was nodding, Jacqui registered some surprise at a female officer being addressed as ‘Sir’—but Helen whispered that this was normal practice.

“Very well, Sir,” continued the corporal, “I was checking over the Sous to make sure they were OK, when I felt all dizzy for a moment. I thought I was fainting, but I didn’t. I recovered after a minute or so, but I felt unable to continue with the check, so I reported back to my Sergeant that I was feeling a bit unwell, and he told me to go to my quarters and take a short break. I lay down on the bunk and immediately fell asleep. Then I had this mysterious dream.

“In it, two of the Sous appeared before me—but not in their habitat. They were coiled up on a sort of grassy area surrounded by cottages—like a village green—and were gesturing towards two humans who were also standing before me—a young man and woman. The woman was wearing a nurse’s uniform—a rather old-fashioned uniform consisting of a blue dress, apron, and white cap. This I remember quite clearly. You don’t see nurses dressed in that sort of kit nowadays, do you?—they all wear scrubs. Anyway, the Sous were gesturing to me that I should approach this couple. I did so, and noticed a badge the woman was wearing. It read ‘Nurse June Hartmead’. I’m absolutely sure of the words. Neither of them spoke to me. Then I woke up.”

“I should explain,” put in Helen, “that Corporal Townsend had never heard of Gavin and June Hartmead. Nor had I—nor had anyone posted here in Wistbourne at present. But the two details: the outdated uniform and the village green—suggested that Townsend had somehow had a vision from the past. I contacted Major Dawson and she told me that yes, there had been a couple named Hartmead living in the village at the time of the Changelings’ first appearance, in 1950—and that Mrs Hartmead—Mrs June Hartmead—was the District nurse at the time. And, by pure coincidence, Major Dawson said she had just been forwarded an enquiry from you—the Hart­meads’ granddaughter.”

Helen paused, and Jacqui felt it was her turn to speak. “This is incredible. So you think that these creatures—these ‘Sousaphones’—somehow imparted the knowledge of my grandparents to your corporal? Corporal Townsend, can you give any description of the couple you saw?”

“Well, Ms Hartmead, both of them were fairly tall. The man had a moustache and short, light brown hair. The woman was a bit shorter, with black hair tied up in a bun, partly hidden by her nurse’s cap. That’s all I can recall—”

“—and as good a description of my grandparents when they were young, as anyone could have given. This is amazing, corporal. Have you any more to tell us?”

“After I told Sarge, he wanted to post me as off sick for a few days, but I insisted that I felt quite OK—well enough to resume work. So I did so. But on my next visit to the habitat, the same thing happened. I felt dizzy, then later fell asleep as before and had another dream. It was almost the same as the last one, but this time there was a sort of oval object like an airship hovering above the green. Then it slowly came down and settled on the grass. The Sous were gesturing frantically towards it and towards the Hartmead couple. Then, once again, I woke up. That’s all there is.”

“Many thanks, Corporal,” said Helen, and Jacqui too was effusive in her thanks. “As it happens,” continued Helen, after the corporal had left them, “I did know about the ‘blimp’ UFO sighting, but the lower ranks, including Corporal Townsend, hadn’t been briefed on it.”

“So, you’re suggesting, the Sous were responsible for all this?” said Jacqui. “That they somehow ‘planted’ this subconscious inform­ation in Corporal Townsend’s brain, which then surfaced in a dream? Did anyone else in your unit have these dreams?”

“Not to my knowledge,” replied Helen. “So, Jacqui—what are your thoughts as to whether there’s any ‘message’ in these dreams?”

Jacqui hesitated. “My Grandad guessed that the ‘blimp’ might well be the spaceship in which the Changeling babies were brought to Earth. So maybe … maybe these Sous are now asking us to summon a similar ship to transport them back to their home world. How we’re to do that is anyone’s guess! And they also have a ‘memory’ of my grandmother inherited from their mother—from the Changeling girl who gave birth to them. Possibly they nursed (if that’s the right word) good recollections of Grandma June, and wanted to summon her too. But since both my Hartmead grandparents are dead, they ‘summoned’ me instead. And I’m here. Does any of this make sense?”

“Yes: I think it does,” replied Helen. “At any rate, it’s as good an interpretation of these ‘messages’ as anything we can come up with. But what these Sous expect you to be able to do for them is a total mystery. I think it’s now time to meet them in ‘person’.”

*

The Sergeant had returned while Helen was speaking, and he led her and Jacqui into a smaller room containing a number of breathing kits, which looked a bit like scuba diving equipment without the wetsuit.

“You need to put on one of these before we go into the habitat,” explained Helen. “The air in there has too much CO2 in it to be breathable.”

Jacqui chose one that seemed to be more or less her size, and put the mask on her face—Helen showing her how to control the air supply and breathe through it; then she led the way out of the house and to a smaller, windowless, square outbuilding built of concrete panels with a flat corrugated roof—very ugly, Jacqui thought, but she supposed it served its purpose.

“The building is mostly about knee-deep in water, but there’s a walkway with handrails round the edge, above the water level,” said Helen, her voice muffled by the mask. “You could safely wade into the pool if you want to, but you probably won’t need to. The walls are still lined with depleted uranium, though we don’t think that’s needed any more.” She began to work the mechanism of a sort of airlock with steps leading up to it. She closed the outer door once they were inside, then opened the inner door. Jacqui found herself in a spacious room tiled all over with white tiles, and lit with a subdued yellow light. There were two or three steps down into the pool which covered the entire floor except for the walkway which ran all round the perimeter.

The three Sous were weaving their way lethargically around the pool, looking for all the world like eels—but they immediately appeared to sense the entry of visitors. They became more active at once, and the longest one, ‘Wiggy’, wriggled rapidly towards them. It placed itself sideways-on to the two women; then it coiled itself up like its namesake and reared both its ‘Bells’ out of the water, point­ing them specifically towards Jacqui. She wondered if she was recognised as being a ‘newcomer’ and hence more ‘interesting’.

Clearly the creatures had some sort of sensory perception.

“That’s all they do,” said Helen. “They won’t talk to us, and they don’t seem to hear messages spoken to them. They just look at us with their strange ‘eyes’—if those flared ends—those ‘Bells’—have eyes in them. I wish I knew what they’re thinking—if they can think. Are they intelligent? They seem to be.”

“Have you tried showing them pictures? Or text?” asked Jacqui, speaking as best she could through the mask.

“Yes. Also music. No reaction at all. As I’ve said before, we’re stumped.”

As they watched, the second Sou, ‘Wally’, also swam towards them, and pointed its Big Bell at Helen. It seemed to be making quick gestures, first towards Helen and then towards the airlock door.

“I think it’s asking you to go out through the door—to leave us,” said Jacqui. “What do you make of that?”

“I wasn’t prepared for this—but if it’ll help, OK. I’ll stay in the airlock though—and I’ll keep an eye on things through my phone. We’ve got CCTV covering this room, in case you didn’t notice. I’ll be back at once if you’re in any trouble.” And Helen re-opened the airlock door and slipped outside, gently closing the door behind her.