P Hillard - The Knower of Truths

Michael adjusted his hat, tightened his tie and slipped on his jacket. It was a horrible thing, pure brilliant white, with a gaudy golden lining. He hated it. It was a nightmare to clean alongside simply being awful to look at. He reached into the inside pocket and removed a small metal rectangle. He prised it apart and placed the front half to the front of the jacket, and the rear half inside. It snapped shut, magnets pulling them together. Approved Tour Guide, read the text across the badge. He sighed, pushed open his front door and stepped out into the street.

Around him the city bustled, tourists clicking away at cameras excitedly taking pictures of anything and everything. Michael had grown up in London and was used to dodging through foreign tourists on his way to whatever awful job he had that week. It was different now though, everything was, once the Council had arrived. Michael stepped carefully around a family who had decided to stop and photograph a passing bus. They clasped their cameras in clawed talons, scales covering their hide. They chittered amongst themselves, words on their alien tongue slithering through snakelike heads. One of the children, or at least Michael was assuming it was a child, seeing as it was only three feet as opposed to the larger seven-foot-tall creatures, shot him an awkward smile, its face twisting in a way it had never been designed too. He gave the child a wave and it turned to one of the adults, chattering away happily.

They had been nice enough, the Council. It had certainly been a surprise to them at least, after millennia of crusading war, rampaging towards their prophesied holy planet, to find another race already living there. Michael sort of understood their predicament, a society living on your supposed Eden was certainly a wrench in their rhetoric from what he had absorbed. If the planet was holy, surely the race the creatures on that planet were also holy? Climate change had been a little bit of a sticking point in the first negotiations between humans and the Council, but eventually, they had decided to fold humanity into their membership somewhat begrudgingly.

Michael hopped onto the bus, gripping tight to the railing. It was full. Again. Pilgrims and tourists had poured in from Council conquered space, the aliens religion was certainly persuasive it seemed. Michael had seen Council soldiers dealing with the other races on occasion, and he wondered just how mandatory the religion was. It wasnt his problem anyway, life for him had simply carried on as it had before, just a little more Doctor Who than he had imagined it being.

Ok, so on your right youll see the Houses of Parliament, he said, his voice echoing through the buss ancient speakers, the microphone weighing heavy in his free hand. The Council had welcomed humans into their Empire, but technology had been frustratingly off the table. This was where the leaders of this country decided matters of importance, before the coming of the Council and their holy benevolence of course. His voice was mono-tone, boring, he had repeated the same script ten times a day for the last month and had long since lost any kind of pep from his performance.

One of the aliens raised its hand, its blue fingers spread wide. Excuse me, it said, the voice rattling from a translation unit clipped to a long silver robe. Is there a bathroom on this vehicle?

Bathroom breaks are scheduled every hour, as per your timetable, Michael said as he rolled his eyes. The next one is in fifteen minutes.

I do not believe I can wait that long. There was an odd delay as it spoke, words pouring from its mouth in its own tongue before being repeated by the machine.

You should have gone before we left. Now, are there any questions? An array of hands, tentacles and claws shot up. Any questions about the Houses of Parliament, not the bathroom. The assembled limbs dropped. Ok. Attached to the houses is the famous Elizabeth Tower. Normally known as Big Ben, that name actually refers to the bell inside.

Michael leant against the door of the bus, a cigarette clutched between his fingers. The driver had followed the line of aliens, clearly just as in need of the bathroom. Michael took a long drag, letting the smoke fill his lungs. It was against the rules of his employment, smoking was not considered holy. He didnt care.

Excuse me, came a voice. It was odd, the slow deliberate speech of someone trying to speak an unfamiliar language. It had come from a tall alien woman, or at least what Michael was assuming was a woman. She had mint green skin, but was mostly humanoid, aside from her eyes, which were pitch black and numbered six. Two were placed where human eyes would be, but each had two smaller tiny eyes next to them on the temples of her head. The alien had thick black hair, curled at the bottom. She was wearing a basic brown jacket and khaki pants, a look drastically more understated than most pilgrims.

Oh hello, Im on break at the moment, but I would be happy to answer any questions once were back on the bus.

The alien fumbled around inside her jacket. Come with me, she said. Danger.

This city is perfectly safe, as Ive said many times Council troopers are always nearby if something we

The alien tapped hard on his chest interrupting Michael. She had fished a small glass tablet from her jacket pocket and was showing it to him. On it was an image, a picture of a man stepping through a door. Of Michael leaving for work that morning. You. In Danger, the alien said again. She opened the jacket a second time, and Michael saw it. The handle of a weapon tucked into the waistband of her trousers. You come.

Michael stared at it, the grip of the small pistol looming large against the simple plain white shirt the alien was wearing. She stared at him with all of her eyes, the tablet in her hands. She was nearly forcing the image into Michaels face. When did they take that? This morning? Is that from a drone? The questions were dancing through his mind. It all seemed so unreal. It had been strange for the first few years, almost scary to see aliens on the streets, but people had adapted to it. Become complacent even. After all, humans were sacred, no one would dare hurt them.

Is this a joke? Are you from YouTube? Listen, lady, you dont want to go around giving people the idea youve got a gun. The Council troopers dont mess about, Michael said. His words were fast, nerves pushing out of his throat in much the same way he had shooed the tourists off his bus.

You. You know things. You must come. The alien woman was struggling. She lacked the translation unit the other guests did. Was she even on the bus? Please. She placed her hand on the pistol grip. I will shoot. Her voice was shaky, almost unsure of her words. She closed her jacket again, placing the tablet into one of its outer pockets. Please.

Ok, look, Im not sure whats going on here. Im just a tour guide. And a pretty shitty one at that. I havent even been doing it very long. I dont know what you think I am, or who, or whatever, but you dont want me. Trust me on that. Michael flicked the ash of his cigarette. The alien seemed like she wasnt entirely sure what she was doing, and Michael had decided to lay into that angle. Look, love, just walk away and Ill forget this even happened. Wont mention it to the troopers or anything.

The woman stepped forward, hand slipping behind her coat towards her waist. Towards the pistol.

Come. Her voice was sterner now, a low rumble in the tone sneaking in. Now. She looked at him, her eyes blinking in a wave outwards. There was a strange noise, a low whine. Michael had no idea how guns worked, not even the regular human kind, but it was obvious something had been switched on.