Johnny Mackintosh and the Spirit of London by Keith Mansfield

it unleashed them. Satisfied, it walked over to a cube the size of a big car and inserted one of its free hands into a hole in the side. The walls fell away to reveal a giant brown floating ball, with leathery skin like an elephant’s, chained to the floor. The krun took hold of the chains and whipped the ball, fleetingly turning its surface red.
    Meanwhile Stevens walked over to the wall and touched it beside one of the squares of orange goo. Slime began to ooze out onto the floor. “My turn,” he said, now walking into the same DNA shower that the other “man” had entered. There was so much going on, Johnny didn’t know where to look. Stevens began to transform before them, while the chained giant ball floated toward the wall, but Johnny’s eyes were drawn awayfrom them both. Instead he stared at the inside of the cavity that was appearing as the slime emptied out from it and a strange sight began to emerge.
    In the center, nearly three meters tall and dressed, if that was the right word, in shimmering metallic robes with the most vivid colors that reminded Johnny of dragonfly wings, was a bottle green alien with a long thin head—almost a meter long—with two antenna sprouting from the top, only to droop feebly down the side of the thing’s face. Any arms or legs were covered by the robes. At its feet was a little brown creature, very much smaller, that waddled around its larger companion on four bowed legs, like those of a piano stool. It was attempting to remove clumps of dirty orange goo from the bigger alien, while straightening out its robes with two spindly arms.
    The two creatures completely ignored Johnny, who felt a push in the back sending him toward the wall. Clara was thrust forward too, as the krun that had been Stevens shoved them with two of his arms. A circular hole widened in front of them, like a camera shutter, and their momentum carried Johnny and Clara through. Clara froze. They were now standing on the beginning of a very narrow walkway, stretching across to a distant wall like a giant ligament and so high above the floor of an enormous cavern that machines were flying around beneath them. There were no railings on either side and a very long drop, but another push from Stevens saw them forced out onto it. Clara stared resolutely ahead, but Johnny turned round to look behind. Both krun, the floating ball and the other two aliens had followed them through the opening and were walking behind, causing the walkway to bounce alarmingly. The creature that had been Stevens began making strange clicks using two arms and his snout and the other krun started whipping the leathery ball, turning its surface a vibrant red. A voice, Stevens’s voicespeaking in English, boomed out, “We are the krun—you are our prisoners. You will make your way to the transit tube and transfer to an Andromedan vessel.”
    â€œTransit tube? They simply cannot be serious,” squeaked a voice from the tall alien. “Just how primitive is this ship? I, the Dauphin taking …”
    As the surface of the ball returned to its original coloring, the voice was replaced by chirping sounds. Clara had managed to turn round by holding onto Johnny, but was determinedly not looking down. The krun began the whipping again. With every lash Clara’s fingernails dug deeper into Johnny’s arm.
    â€œÂ â€¦ the indignity of it all. I will not transfer through a transit tube. I will not be treated the same as these primitives.” The voice was still coming from the tall creature who seemed to be gesturing toward Johnny and Clara. “I am the Dauphin of …”
    â€œSilence!” boomed Stevens, as the other krun whipped the leather ball again, this time far more violently than before. “I don’t care if you’re the Emperor himself. You will do exactly as you are told. Do you understand or do you want to die?” As he said this, the other