The Ninth World

Alice's phone beeped on her desk as a message came. The sound, though muffled by the fluffy Minnie Mouse phone case which Alice had never got around to changing, made Lewis sit up. The display showed the sender's name: 'Lyttleton'.

"What does he want, Lewis?" wondered Alice.

She ignored the message for as long as she dared, continuing to type frantically on her laptop. Finally she unlocked the device and read the message.

Please report to the port sphere. I've got a job for you.
Regards
Lyttleton (Base Director)

"Sounds very boring," said Alice.

She knew it was a bad idea to talk to Lewis. It was becoming a habit. Maybe that was inevitable, given that she'd been stuck on Triton for three months and her only real companion was a white rabbit which she'd rescued from laboratory experiments. Triton was a dead world, four billion kilometres from home. There wasn't much to do there.

She pressed a button on her phone and made a quick remote upload from her laptop. Perhaps, she thought, she would get chance to look over her calculations later. She was reluctant to leave them now. She was so close to her goal.

She closed the laptop, thrust her phone into her pocket, and stood up.

"Don't go anywhere, Lewis!" she said, redundantly. Lewis was locked in his wire-fronted hutch.

She left the observatory and made her way though a series of glass spheres and walkways. Outside, the nitrogen frosts glimmered with a ghostly sapphire light beneath the vast blue orb of Neptune. When she got to the port sphere Lyttleton was already there, clipboard in hand. Swithenbank was there too. They were both staring at a gleaming new shuttle which had the name Mallard emblazoned on its side. Swithenbank looked up with a grin as Alice approached.

" 'Ello, Alice!" he said. "Are you coming with us?"

Alice could never quite get used to Swithenshaw's Yorkshire dialect. It made her think of steep cobbled streets and narrow terraced houses with smoking chimneys and it seemed out of place in a research base on Triton.

"I don't know," said Alice. "Where are you going?"

"We're 'aving a go in that, apparently" said Swithenbank, nodding at the shuttle.

"Really?"

"Aye," said Swithenbank. "The Mallard. It's new. Supposed to be fast."

"Why did they name it after a duck?" said Alice.

"There was a reason," said Swithenbank. "I've forgotten it, though."

"What's that got to do with me anyway?" said Alice. "I was busy. And I haven't changed my shoes."

"We need a science officer on the test flight," said Lyttleton, waving his clipboard at Alice. He was a pale, gangling figure with thinning hair. "It's protocol," he explained.

"I'm not a scientist," said Alice. "I'm a mathematician."

"Close enough," said Lyttleton. "You'll do."

"Aye," said Swithenbank, "you'll do. You'll 'ave to, I suppose."

"I was busy," Alice insisted.

"Doing what?" said Swithenbank. "Talking to your rabbit?"

"I don't talk to my rabbit," said Alice.

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't. I was in the middle of something important. I think I've located the ninth planet. Finally. I'm sure I have. I've worked out its position from perturbations in the orbit of Kuiper Belt objects. I've got its coordinates here!"

She brandished her phone at the two men; then, becoming suddenly aware of the Minnie Mouse case, thrust it back in her pocket.

"Hmm," said Lyttleton. "Maybe we'll talk about that another time. Franky, I fail to understand your lack of interest in the Mallard. It's the most advanced shuttle of its kind. It's a masterpiece of British engineering."

"Is it, bollocks," said Swithenbank.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Them fusion drives are Chinese. You told me so yourself."

"Hmm."

"And the fuselage were put together by a team from NASA."

"Er...."

"And t' life support system were designed in Munich."

"Yes, well, the key feature of the Mallard is its navigational computer, and that was designed and built exclusively by the Brass Farthing Academy."

"In that case, we really are doomed," said Swithenbank. "We'll probably end up in t' nearest black 'ole."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," said Lyttleton, in a voice which screamed his determination to keep calm, "as long as you're capable of piloting it."

The interior of the shuttle gleamed. It still had that antiseptic smell which Alice associated with new cars. Patterns of light shimmered softly across the flight desk consoles. Swithenbank took his place in the pilot's seat. Lyttleton manoeuvred his spidery form into the co-pilot's chair. Alice sat just behind them.

"Well, this shouldn't take too long," said Swithenbank, studying his clipboard. "Three hours, maximum."

"Is there an in-flight movie?" asked Alice.

"Just a quick run around Neptune," Lyttleton went on, as Swithenbank flicked switches on the console and they all strapped themselves in. "Enough to see how she performs and run tests on some of her systems."

"It looks like every other shuttle I've ever seen," said Alice as the shuttle's drives began to power up.

"What was that?" said Lyttleton. "I can't hear you."

"Nothing!" said Alice.

The sliding section of the port sphere rolled back, and Alice had to admit to herself that she became slightly more impressed with the shuttle once it had taken off. It was fast, and it was smooth and manoeuvrable. The pale surface of Triton dropped swiftly away beneath them and Alice hardly felt a thing as they picked up speed and headed out into deeper space. Lyttleton and Swithenbank murmured to each other, checking instruments and taking readings. Lyttleton scribbled sporadically on his clipboard.

Alice pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through her calculations. She was right; she was sure of it. After months of painstaking observations and calculations, she'd located the ninth planet, whose existence had long been suspected by astronomers, but never proved. If only, she thought, Lyttleton would listen to her. If only he'd send a shuttle to check it out.

She flicked aimlessly through the apps and databases on her phone. Then she opened the music app and scrolled through her track list.

"Hey, Lyttleton," she called.

"Yes?"

"Has this shuttle got bluetooth?"

"Of course it has. It's got everything."

"Can I play some music? From my phone?"

"This reminds me of driving with my kids in the back of the car."

"Well, can I?"

"I suppose so."

"Alright," said Alice. "What do you think, guys - Beatles or Rolling Stones?"

"Beatles," said Lyttleton.

"Rolling Stones," said Swithenbank.

"Yeah, I think we'll go with David Bowie," said Alice, as she activated the bluetooth function on her phone. "He seems appropriate for a trip around Neptune. I've got - "

Before she could say another word the Mallard lurched so violently that Alice's phone was torn from her hand and hurled to the back of the craft, where it clattered to the floor. It was followed by Lyttleton's clipboard. The shuttle veered away from Neptune and leaped towards the outer reaches of the solar system. The fusion drives screamed and a vicious acceleration kicked in, so powerful that Alice was pinned helplessly to her seat. She could hardly breathe. Lyttleton and Swithenbank struggled to retain control of the craft.

"What happened?" she gasped.

"Lost control," was all that Lyttleton could say.

He and Swithenbank battled with the shuttle's controls but nothing made any difference. It had developed a will of its own. The bone-crushing acceleration went on, becoming, if anything, even more savage. Alice couldn't move. Lyttleton and Swithenbank, too, soon gave up their struggle and flopped back in their seats, unable to lift their arms any more. The acceleration became so ferocious that Alice's vision swam. She saw spots and circles. She felt herself losing consciousness. The last thing she was aware of before she slid into oblivion were the plangent tones of David Bowie's Space Oddity, just audible below the sceam of the fusion drives. Or was it in her imagination? Afterwards, she was never quite sure.

When she opened her eyes, she had no idea how much time had passed. All she knew was that the terrible acceleration had stopped. The shuttle was still. Silence had returned to the craft, flooding back like a great, gentle sea. Alice felt as limp as a rag doll.

Lyttleton and Swithenbank were stirring in the cockpit.

"Are we alive?" Lyttleton moaned.

"Uh.... think so," said Swithenbank, massaging his face with the palms of his hands.

"Where are we?" said Lyttleton.

Swithenbank hoisted himself and leaned towards the console.

"Bloody 'ell," he said. "We're nearly three times as far out as Neptune."

Lyttleton peered at the console too.

"We've been out for sixteen hours," he said. "The life support sytem must have put us to sleep with a sedative. It can do that, when the crew's under stress, like in periods of extreme acceleration. But I don't understand why."

Swithenbank didn't reply.

"What's it brought us out here for, anyway?" said Lyttleton, still staring at the console.

"Maybe it's something to do with that," said Swithenbank, pointing at the cockpit window..

Lyttleton and Alice followed his pointing finger.

"Oh my God," whispered Alice. "It's beautiful...."

It was a planet. A vast, dim sphere, glimmering faintly in the pale light of the distant sun. It was gaseous, like Neptune, but darker, and striated with red and ochre bands. It's ghostly rings shimmered. The Mallard hung before it like a pilgrim in the court of a gloomy deity.

"The ninth planet," said Alice. "The Mallard's brought us to it."

"I don't...." stammered Lyttleton. "How did it know?"

"I think.... I've got the coordinates on my phone," said Alice.

"Bloody 'ell," said Swithenbank. "Bluetooth."

"Yeah," said Alice. "The Mallard must have uploaded the coordinates when I activated bluetooth and just.... just decided to bring us here."

"Clearly, there's been a minor malfunction," said Lyttleton.

"You could say that," said Swithenbank.

The crew of the Mallard stared and stared at the newly discovered world.

"You know what?" said Alice finally. "I think I'm going to name it 'Bowie'."