The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Chapter Four: Taking Instruction


During the six months it took Heather to rewire the shuttle-craft and equip it with the projected force-screen she had developed – Mikhail learned how to navigate his way round such a craft, using an Xbox flight-simulator, with The Gawp having modified the programme quite extensively, so it would best represent any possible eventually, as accurately as possible.

He had learned where he ate and slept, in an old two to three berth caravan, surrounded by piles of dead metal. It might not have been spacious, but supplied all the basics a cooker and a shower.

Then, sitting cross-legged before the old CRT screen they were using, The Gawp had explained with fervour, the simplicity of the package and its realism.

One Mikhail could understand, the other had baffled him; until Geoff had explained to him with an irritated grin and several twitches, “Just... get into it...”

He had got it, eventually and, in so doing had gained new respect for Sparks son and decided that the horrible ignorant nickname would not pass his lips.

It had been this thought, which he had shared with Heather, that had led to a pleasant afternoon spent inside an old diesel motor car eating strawberries, as a storm raged outside...

The fact that they had been eaten could have been considered surprising, considering that their presence in either mouth depended on observation and since childhood, there had been those who had realised that this skill had passed Mikhail by, teachers and managers and even a wife, who had let him, as she'd felt he had hardly ever noticed her.

Yet here in the van, it had been Heather who had been making tea one afternoon and taken notice of the two sitting before the screen and watched the growing respect that Mikhail showed the tormented youth, so persecuted by his father, whenever he was present.

Over a week she had created opportunities to continue her observations, until one day she formed a plan, that would give her pleasure.

Then on a day when the sky above showed the potential for a rain, Heather set her tools aside and removed her peak-cap and shook her hair loose, a light grin on her face. Then left the shuttle-craft, where she'd been working, as usual.

She made her way to the caravan and entered quietly, then stood behind a battered old armchair, with crossed arms resting on the top, her chin on her arms, watching the two a smile on her face.

'So sweet,' Heather thought.

Geoff sitting on the sofa giving instruction had noticed her first and almost gave the game away, until Heather quickly put a finger to her lips.

Meanwhile, Mikhail continued to follow the last instructions given to him and, 'get into it'.

So intense was his concentration that he did not hear Heather approach. She had slipped her hands over his eyes then said, “Time to stop, places to see...”

Then she led the two out of the small caravan and around several piles of junk, until they neared the rear wall of the yard.

“C'mon,” she instructed, as the first spots of rain fell, on an over warm day, when the air practically sang with the electricity in the air.

Heather had led the two young men to an old, formerly orange VW Beetle, opening the passenger door and scrambling into the drivers seat.
Geoff had followed and got into the back, where the picnic sat, as Mikhail followed him, setting down his seat and closing the door.

Two lamps provided the light, as the storm clouds gathered overhead and Heather passed across to each a blue plastic mug, of a very fine Chilean red wine.

“Help yourself to eats,” she told them, pointing to open tupperware containers, holding cheese sandwiches made of wholemeal bread, a cheese and onion quiche Lorraine, cut into four slices and a whole heap of nachos and crisps. Next to these were two more tupperware containers, there lids still firmly in place.

“I've finished my work,” Heather announced, a contented smile on her face, “an we've a two day holiday, until I have them your father Geoff...”

He nodded, understanding that his days of tuition were over.

“So, why don't you take care of the music?” Heather said to Mikhail, opening the glove box and removing an old-style tape-machine, “just press play.”

He did so, 'n suddenly the battered old VW was filled with the sounds of the sixties and the cascades, singing 'Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain, Telling me just what a fool I've been
I wish that it would go and let me cry in vain, And let me be alone again...”

Heather reached into the back, to obtain the two sealed containers, aware that for a change, Mikhail had become observant, as she felt his eyes drawn to her backside.

As she sat back in to her seat, she looked directly to Mikhail and asked him, “Enjoy the view?”

He had blushed and grinned sheepishly, obviously caught out.

Otis Redding sang of the dock of the bay, as the rain fell hard and Heather returned his grin and offered him a strawberry from one container and cream, that the other held...

“Soon the holiday will end and, it'll be back to work, till then...” she smiled, pleased that the plan had gone as intended: 'nothing wrong with a little bonding,' she mused.

Outside the car lightning flashed and thunder struck, while inside... no-one cared.

Chapter Three: Beware The Rattler

The redhead was in her late twenties and possessed green eyes that held Mikhail in thrall, as she swept her red lustrous red hair away from the left side of her face and opened her lips to speak:

“So you’re the poor sap that Sparks roped in to pilot my ship?” She asked, with a grin.

“Erm…” Mikhail muttered. He had met the businessman Stanley T. Sparks just a few hours earlier at his local, where the fellow’s weasel of a rat-like lawyer had approached him, with an offer.

“My employer is looking for an enterprising young man, willing to work for him and earn… a lot of money…” then added, “probably.”

He had said ‘yes’ then and did so again, “Yes, I guess I am…”


Mikhail was bewildered, bothered and bewildered. Furthermore the sun was high in the sky and he felt hot, talking to this beautiful woman.

“Is everything he said true? This crafts being built… erm rebuilt, to go do salvage work…?” He quizzed, frowning.

The redhead smiled.

“I suppose it depends how much he was trying to sell my life’s work?” She answered. Then noting his confusion, she had placed an arm round his shoulders, much as Sparks had earlier.

“Come to my place of work and I’ll try to answer your questions. Sound good, to you?” She asked, as she squeezed his shoulder briefly.

Then the two walked between towering piles of metal and toward the shuttle-craft that the young woman had emerged from earlier.

“We’ll have to chat as I work, there’s so much to do and just me and Geoff to do it…” she explained, standing at the bottom of the ladder, leading into the cockpit, high above.

“Is Geoff the guy that Sparks called The Gawp Ms. Richards?” Mikhail asked, craning his neck as he made a brief attempt not to check out her overall clad derriere and failing.

“Don’t ever let me hear you call him that,” she snapped, then added, “And don’t call me Ms. Richards, it’s Heather, alright… and, stop staring at my backside!”

Abashed, Mikhail looked to the tops of his black work-boots muttering, “I was only waiting for the ladder to be free… that’s all…”

Finally, he heard hear call him from inside the craft, “So you coming up perv?”

“It’s not perv,” he told her defiantly, as he began to climb the ladder, “It’s Mikhail…”

“So you’re not English then?” Heather surmised, as his head popped up, into the cockpit.

“Grandmother was polish, an I got named after her third husband,” he told her with a grin, as he entered, noting how cramped everything was.

He looked to the controls, strewn all over the floor, amidst piles of wiring, then looked to the young woman and asked curiously, “Is this all really possible?”

From amidst the pile of equipment on the floor legs had emerged, then a spotty young man wearing glasses emerged, also wearing a blue overall, that looked decidedly baggy on his small frame.

“She’s the professor lady and knows it all,” he squawked, in a voice that reminded Mikhail of chalk being scrawped across a blackboard.

“Hardly Geoff,” she began gently, “But the project was my baby. It was funding that was an issue. Especially in this age of cut-backs and stuff…”

She had joined Geoff, inspecting his work.

Then after a few minutes, she too disappeared beneath the piles of metal, plastic and wire: “I had been going to seek crowd-funding, or go on Dragons Den, something like that…” Heather told him as she soldered; “And then… I met Sparks… or should I say that dweeb of a lawyer of his found me!?! Pass… either way, I’m here…”

Then after a few minutes she emerged, grime on her forehead and a look of satisfaction on her face: “I’m not going to tell him yet…” then rounding on Geoff she added, “and neither are you… but I do think I’m nearly finished…”

Mikhail looked to Geoff who stared at Heather Richards with distinct fear on his face, as he cowered from her, then at the equipment still strewn amidst the confines of the small cabin, doubtful that she might have finished anything, at all.

As for Geoff, he suddenly began to understand his father rotten knickname, as he continued to stare at his mentor, mouth open wide.

“You’ll catch flies Geoff,” Heather teased lightly, setting aside her soldering iron and picking up a large hammer.

“Finished? Erm… finished what? Mikhail asked, his incredulity evident in his voice.

“You, if you keep sounding so darned negative…” Heather looked to him, hammer in hand and looking serious, for all of ten seconds.

Then a broad grin spread across her face, that immediately lightening the mood, somewhat.

“I was just kidding… except…” she turned to Geoff, “No blabbing to your father alright?”
The craven youth looked suitably terrified, as intended.

“An yes Mikhail, I have nearly finished… the defence field,” she clarified, “That was the priority, without that, there’d be no mission… we’d be vulnerable to every bit of debris up there, big or small… and they can all damage, whether big or small…”

Heather paused for breath: this was the most she had said in months, having spent much of her time on the project, with no chance at a social life, of any kind: “Up there, we’ll need every trick I can think of, just to survive. And that’s before we start the real job of clearing up one hell of a mess…”

“Oh, you’re going as well…” Mikhail muttered.

“Ah… you’re joining me and Geoff,” she clarified, “is what is happening Mikhail… after all, this is my baby… you’ll be coming along to fill a seat and take instruction.”

As this sank in, Mikhail heard Heather Richards ask, “You can take instruction, can’t you?”