Chapter 6: Doctor Nostromus
Stella awoke to morning light glowing through unfamiliar curtains covered with yellow rockets. Helix was lying at the bottom of her bed, chewing on something whilst waiting for her to wake up.
She gave his ears a ruffle, and he stopped his chewing to give her hand a quick lick in reply. Thoughts of her parents and the Greddylick flooded into her head, but it all seemed too unreal for her to accept. She got out of bed and looked out of the window. It had obviously snowed during the night, and Greenwich was now transformed by a pristine white carpet of snow. The view out of the window overlooked a cluster of icy houses, and she could make out the river Thames as a grey streak in the distance. Stella sighed. If she were at home, she’d be eager to be outside: rushing off to her local park with Helix and ignoring the shouts to keep warm from her mum. Stella fought back tears at the thought that her mum would now only shout about the Pilades Cluster (wherever that was), and the Greddylick would probably be waiting for her in the park.
Banishing those thoughts from her mind, she got dressed and noticed what it was that Helix was chewing. Somehow, he had found another one of the jellied people. This one was bright red.
“You don’t give up with those things, do you?” she said, as she tugged it out of his jaws. “You couldn’t leave it at home?”
Stella felt disappointed that even throughout the unpleasant shocks of the previous day he had sneaked one of his toys into her bag. But he just maintained his innocence, saying that he’d found it under the bed. Stella was determined not to get into an argument, though, and decided to wake up Tom. His room was empty, but the smell of breakfast guided Stella down the stairs and back into the kitchen.
She found Tom sat at the table with Wendell hovering beside him. The Mechomator was busy frying some eggs on top of itself. A tall chef’s hat was perched on its kettle, and it was making a tinny humming sound.
“Hi, Stella,” Tom said.
“You could have woken me up,” Stella mumbled grumpily. She didn’t like the idea that she was somehow being left out.
“I tried to. I knocked on your door, but your dog just growled at me. Gladys said to let you sleep.”
“Where is Gladys?”
“She said she was going shopping.” Tom shrugged. “Although I’d have thought she’d get some pretty strange looks when she starts picking stuff up from the shelves.”
“What about Professor Botwing? Or Uncle Dodds?”
“I haven’t seen them,” Tom replied airily and took a large bite out of a fried egg sandwich that the Mechomator flipped onto his plate.
“Haven’t you looked?”
“What?” Tom squawked, choking on his sandwich. “And get caught in that hallway again, or worse. No thanks.”
“We’ve got to find them and work out what’s going on.”
“Will you keep the noise down,” Wendell moaned.
Stella noticed that Wendell seemed to be unwell. He had gone a grey colour and was so deflated he was drooping close to the floor.
“What’s the matter with you?” she asked.
“I don’t feel too good,” Wendell replied.
“He’s been like this all morning,” Tom said.
“It’s the helium. I had too much of it. I always feel like I’ve been sucked through a vacuum cleaner the morning afterwards.”
“I knew things were going to get weird when I said I’d follow you to this place, but never in a million years did I think I’d be having breakfast with a sick balloon,” Tom said.
“Why don’t you go, then?” Stella said. Nobody seemed to care that her world had been turned upside down. “Since you hate it so much. It’s not you who’s being hunted. It’s not your parents who’ve had a mind block slapped on them.”
“No,” Tom said quietly, “I don’t have any parents, and Shane Biggs picked on me every day until you blasted him into a tree. I’m going where you’re going until I find out how you did it.”
“You want to know how I did it? It was this!” She pulled out her pendant, which seemed to have caught Stella’s mood and was glowing balefully. “You want it? You can have it!” Stella shouted. She thrust the crystal star at Tom, who shied away from it. “Take it with you and go, since no one wants you here anyway.”
“Best put your necklace away, Stella. Oh my, it would indeed be best.” Professor Botwing had flown in unnoticed through the kitchen window. “I’m sure you don’t really intend to give it away. Tom doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want it at all.”
Tom had upended his chair and was pressed fearfully against the Mechomator. Wendell was cowering behind him and trying to avoid the fly swatter the Mechomator was using to fend him away from the breakfast.
Stella began to feel foolish at losing her temper. “I’m sorry, Professor,” she said.
“Not at all, my dear, not at all. Until Doctor Dodds gets back, though, it’s probably best if you keep the necklace safely tucked away, oh yes, quite the best thing to do. It’s me who is sorry, I should have been here when you woke up. Should have, no excuse. But I like to take a few turns over the park after breakfast. Oh yes, a bit of exercise helps the digestion, and today I just couldn’t help it. I do like to flutter the old feathers in the snow. Can’t resist.”
“Do you know where Uncle Dodds is, Professor?”
“Oh yes, I know. Goodness me, of course I know.”
Before Stella could open her mouth to ask where. Botwing cut her off. “I’m afraid, my dear, there’s no help for it but to be patient, no help for it at all. I always try to keep busy if I’m worried, yes, keeping busy is always a good cure. Now, why don’t you two finish your breakfasts and then come up to my study, and maybe you can help me out with a few things? Plenty to be done. Oh my, always plenty to be done.”
Botwing gave his wings a shake, spraying a shower of melted snow over them, and then flew up the stairs.
It was probably a good thing for Stella and Tom that they were distracted through the rest of breakfast by Wendell, who complained about how badly his ions hurt. Apparently, a good cure for a helium hangover was to be held underwater. So Tom filled up the sink and pressed Wendell down until he started to turn a healthier orange colour.
“How exactly does this make you feel better?” he asked.
“Something to do with the pressure, I think. Ow, stop pinching!” Wendell gurgled.
After Wendell felt buoyant enough to make it up the stairs, they decided to find Professor Botwing. Neither Wendell nor Tom wanted to brave the cosmic hallway again, so Wendell took them by an alternative route. The house was very old and large and at some point must have had lots of people living in it. Every corner revealed a hidden stairwell or a cramped passageway, and they all led to many different rooms.
Some doorways that they passed were locked, and others led into normal dusty rooms. However, Wendell pointed out some rooms that held surprises.
“This is the laboratory,” Wendell told them.
He had guided them into a large chamber containing rows of old wooden benches holding a collection of different-sized glass vials and beakers full of strange liquids. Some of the jars gave off strange gargling noises. In one corner was an elaborate set-up of glass tubes spiralling into a huge glass bowl. A blue flame was warming the contraption from underneath and causing the mixture inside to fizz.
On another table, a selection of many different-coloured wires were attached with crocodile clips to two towering metal coils. Propped atop of each of them was a small hairy ball. A blue thread of electricity buzzed between the coils, and when it reached the top, the hair on each of the balls would fuzz out with a shocked, ‘Eek!’
“What’s this for?” Stella asked.
“Oh, it’s all very scientific,” Wendell said confidently. “Lots of important work done here.”
They were interrupted by the contents of the fizzing glass jar suddenly exploding, showering them with egg-smelling goo. The furry balls took that as their cue to shoot into the air and started spinni
ng around the room like spinning tops, in a trail of thick blue smoke.
They made a quick getaway after one of the balls swooped after Tom, narrowly missing his head. Despite the possible shocks, Stella found herself getting more and more curious as she peered into cupboards and explored the strange rooms of the house.
“What’s down there?” Stella asked, looking down a rickety stairway. At the bottom she could see a vivid white light glowing from a solid-looking door.
“Oh, that’s the cellar,” Wendell said nervously.
“I’m surprised you don’t live down there, Wendell,” Stella said. “You wouldn’t feel so exposed if you lived under the ground.” She walked down the stairs, although with every step she took, the air became more and more chilled.
“Doctor Nostromus already, err, lives there,” he said.
“Well, he must like things very cold. This door is covered in ice,” Stella said. Now she was so close to the door, she wondered whether it was actually a solid block of ice. It was so shiny she could see her reflection in it. She brushed her hand against the smooth, chill surface and snatched it back as if it had been bitten. The touch was so cold it felt like she’d put her hand in a freezer.
“She likes the door exactly the way it is – shut!” said a voice from the top of the stairwell. It belonged to the palest woman Stella had ever seen. She had straight black hair that framed a sharp, narrow face, and she wore a set of tinted goggles over her eyes.
“Hello, Doctor Nostromus, we don’t often see you up and about…this early,” Wendell said, with a slight wavering in his voice.
Doctor Nostromus ignored him and walked straight down to Stella. “Ah. Here stands the reason for old Dodds lifting up rocks that should be left where they are and disturbing nasty creatures that don’t need disturbing. Stella Mayweather with the seven-pointed star.”
“How do you know who I am?” Stella asked defiantly, although she felt more uneasy with every deliberate step the woman took towards her.
Doctor Nostromus’s mouth curved into a smile, which only heightened Stella’s unease. “Let’s just say, you are not the only one with a taste for interesting jewellery.” She held out a hand with long thin fingers and sharp nails. On her third finger she wore a large ring that held a glistening gem. The jewel was round and about the same size as a marble. It had the markings of an eye with a blood-red iris. The eyeball moved, and Stella gasped. Its crimson gaze locked onto hers. Stella felt she couldn’t tear herself away. She saw a reflection of herself in the eye, and then the image switched to a seven-pointed star blazing with fiery light.
Then there was an incandescent flash that caused Stella to squeeze her eyes shut. Trying to blink away purple splotches, Stella could just make out the back of Nostromus’s cloak disappearing into the cellar. Her voice rang behind her.
“Unlike you, I can tell you exactly where I got mine. It was donated by the last poor soul who felt they needed to peek in my room uninvited,” Nostromus said, before the door of ice shut firmly behind her with a clang.
The encounter with Doctor Nostromus had made Stella’s legs feel a bit wobbly, and she found it took her a while to climb back up the stairs.
“She doesn’t seem all that nice,” Tom said.
“Yeah, how come Uncle Dodds lets her creep around down here?” Stella asked.
“Oh, she keeps herself to herself most of the time,” Wendell said. “I think she just likes her privacy. She can get a bit grumpy, so I tend to steer clear of her.”
Stella found her taste for exploration had waned a little and was anxious to find Professor Botwing. Wendell guided them through a narrow corridor to a small door with ‘Professor BB Botwing’ stencilled on it.
Wendell, however, seemed reluctant to go near it.
“I’d love to come with you,” he said, “but Botwing’s office scares the life out of me.”
With that worrying comment, Wendell bobbed nervously away.
“Maybe we should go with him,” Tom said.
Although she suspected that Tom could be right, Stella ignored his comment and knocked loudly on the door. The muffled voice of Botwing could be heard saying, “Come in, oh my, come in.”
Trying not to think about what had scared Wendell, or the disturbing encounter with Doctor Nostromus, Stella opened the door. One look at the room told Stella why it would upset somebody who was scared of open spaces. Stella’s gaze was drawn upwards by tall bookcases, stuffed with books, that stretched high up to a glass-domed skylight. The windows in the roof revealed snow flurries swirling in the sky. A spiral staircase wound up to a gallery that hugged the sides of the room, and a narrow walkway spanned the middle of the space, a bridge from one side of the room to the other. Botwing was perched on one of the balconies, dictating a letter to Gladys, who was sat in a comfortable armchair taking notes with one pair of hands, whilst the other pair were knitting some socks.
“…it is with great regret that I must cancel my subscription to Martian Monthly, oh yes, a great shame. However, I feel the recent rise in your fee to five cosmo-dollars per issue is far too expensive a sum for your publication, oh my, you should be ashamed. Yours sincerely, Professor BB Botwing.”
“You do realise this has already missed the Christmas post, don’t you?” Gladys sighed. “The last mail orbited past yesterday. I did say.”
Botwing ruffled his feathers. “Did you? I don’t remember. Can’t have told me, oh my, no. You must let me know these things, Gladys. Yes, keep me informed.”
Gladys mumbled something about professors with flighty memories, but Botwing brushed her objections aside with an airy flap of his wing.
“Ah, visitors!” he said, turning his attention to Stella and Tom. “Did you have a nice breakfast? What can I do for you?”
“You said we could help out, Professor,” Stella said.
“Oh yes, of course I did. Clean forgot, memory like a sieve.”
Gladys gave a snort.
“I want to help, but what is it that you actually do here?” Stella asked.
“Do? You are inside the Greenwich Interplanetary Society!” Botwing declared.
“Yeah, we read that on the door,” Tom said.
“Am I to understand…you don’t mean to say…you’ve not heard of the Greenwich Interplanetary Society?” Botwing spluttered.
“No,” said Stella and Tom at the same time.
“But we have links throughout the known universe? Oh yes, and even a couple in the unknown universe,” Botwing said. He was so flustered he had started to flap his wings and was rising from the banister.
“It is written in our founding charter that the Greenwich Interplanetary Society is pledged to promote understanding between all planets and cultures in the galaxy. To push against the frontiers of exploration and knowledge. To oppose those that threaten Galactic liberty! A member of the Intergalactic Society works to uphold these noble ideals. Oh my, yes. Our work lights up the galaxy.”
“Oh lovely. New volunteers,” Gladys gushed. “We always need help with the filing.”
***