(no subject)
TITLE: Stars Fall on Sandford
FANDOM: Hot Fuzz
AUTHOR: annlarimer
WORD COUNT: 4,000
RATING: PG fer the cussin', and shit blows up
SUMMARY: Nicholas Angel, Destroyer of Worlds
NOTES: Crit is love. Story notes at the end.
DISCLAIMER: I not has Fuzzburger.
It was a lovely spring evening in Sandford. Clear and calm, just a bit warmer than was usual for the time of year.
Danny Butterman stepped out into the yard behind the new police station, momentarily silhouetted in the light that spilled out from inside. Party noises leaked out with the light -- pre-party, really, until the squad were off duty and could reconvene at the pub -- then muted as he closed the door. He stretched a bit, and looked up at the sky.
A few more weeks, and this time of the evening it'd still be daylight. You could never have too much daylight, as far as Danny was concerned. Darkness could be friendly and comforting, but too much made it easy for people to hide. And lose themselves.
Still, it let you see the stars. Danny knew a lot of the constellations, and even some single stars. His Dad had taught him a few, and he was perhaps the only child in the history of Sandford Primary School to keep their names in his head past exam times. The Plow (or, if you prefer, Bear), the Other Plow (or Extra Bear), the Girl Who Looks Like a W, The Flying Horse That's More Like A Square Than a Horse Really, Orion (Danny always remembered him from Men in Black) with his little belt -- missing a loop apparently, because it dangled -- and The Two Tiny-Headed Blokes.
They were all so still and tall.
He wondered who lived up there. Maybe, right now, on a Bear's snout or a Bloke's foot, somebody with a really good telescope was looking this way, and could see him.
Danny waved, just in case. Hello there. Sandford Welcomes You. We really mean it now.
The party was in his honor, a combination not-really-surprise birthday, station warming, and congratulations on making Sergeant. Amazing stuff, and Danny had every reason to be proud. He'd done amazing things in the last year. He'd sat the Sergeant exams and, appalling spelling aside, handily kicked their arses. He'd come as near to being a corpse as he cared to, at least for another forty or fifty years, and survived. He'd helped save his town from villains -- actual villains! -- and, somehow, somehow, he'd managed to find himself an unbelievably amazing fella. He'd even even taken the radical step of painting his sitting room, changing it to a pale beige that was hardly beige at all.
To sum up: amazing.
He was also tired, and the new station didn't smell right, and he missed his Dad.
The door opened again, sending another slice of light into the grass, and Nicholas Angel looked out.
"All right?"
"Yeah. I just wanted a moment away from people."
"Oh. I'll leave you alone, then."
Danny held out an arm. "You're not people, Nicholas."
"Oh. Well. Thanks very much." He sidled up next to Danny. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah. It's just...lot of changes lately. Good, mostly. But sometimes it hurts a fella's brain, thinkin' about it all."
Angel nodded. "Yes it does."
They looked at the stars.
"There's Orion," Angel said.
"Yeah. Say hello."
Nicholas gave Orion a small wave. "The stars don't change, at least," he said. "Well, they do, but not so we notice. He was up there before you and I were even thought of. And he'll be there long after we've gone."
***
When dealing with the vast distances of interstellar space, time -- and our concept of time -- starts to get tricky. The things we see in the sky are only as current as the speed of light allows. The moon we see is ten seconds old. The sun in the sky actually happened eight minutes ago.
The red giant Betelgeuse marks Orion's right shoulder (his right, our left). Betelgeuse, I'm sure you know, is getting on in years, and likely to go nova as soon as the mood strikes. Light from Betelgeuse only reaches us after 500 (and a bit) years of hard slog. So bear in mind that the following sentence, while accurate, is only accurate from a particular spatiotemporal point of view:
Just then, Betelgeuse exploded.
For a moment there was nothing but light.
The next thing either of them knew, Nicholas was on the ground, Danny on top of him. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then:
"Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"What...what are you doing?"
"Erm...shielding you from the rain of flaming debris?"
Nicholas kind of patted him. "Would...would you mind awfully getting off me?"
"Um. Yeah." Danny managed to avoid putting a knee into Nicholas' bits, and they sort of helped each other to their feet, blinking.
The star Betelgeuse had been replaced by something big and bright and fuzzy.
From all over Sandford -- indeed, all over England, if you had ears to hear -- came the sounds of roosters crowing, dogs barking, windows and doors opening, and people spilling out into the lanes. Also, for some reason, car alarms. Car alarms never like being left out.
"Whoah," said Danny.
"Jesus," said Angel.
"What the fuck was that?" A child of the Eighties, visions of limiting fire hazards and proceeding to the Inner Refuge before the fallout started danced in his head. But the light in the sky...seemed wrong for that sort of thing.
"It -- that star there just fucking exploded! I was looking right at it."
"How'd you do that?"
Nicholas gaped at the tiny new...well, it wasn't tiny, it was bigger and brighter than the old thing...what the hell was it called now? Certainly not a star. "I swear it wasn't me."
"For a minute I thought it was the bombs finally come."
"Yeah." Protect and Survive had been nightmare fodder for much of Nicholas' adolescence.
The door opened again, and Andy Wainwright stuck his head out. "If you two giant pooves don't mind, we're all ready to -- what the fucking hell's that?"
"It were Nicholas," said Danny. "He broke the universe."
"Again? Stop doing that!" Andy hit Nicholas in the head.
"It was not me!" Nicholas protested. "And don't hit the officer in charge."
Wainwright cuffed him again. "I don't have a bin. Andy, holy fuck, get out here!" he called back into the station.
Andy Cartwright appeared at his shoulder, the rest of the squad close on his heels. "What the fuck? They got the Death Star!"
"I hope it's not Jesus come back," said a Turner. "There's a match this weekend."
Saxon the police dog squeezed out through the tangle of legs, barking furiously at the light.
"Shuddid, Sax!" said Bob Walker. "Sonlybeeljusasplodin."
Saxon looked at Bob doubtfully, or as close as he got where Bob was concerned, but his barks subsided to a low, simmering mutter.
"I hope nobody was livin' there," said the other Turner.
"I hope we're not next," said Doris.
"Nar, sunsgottanutherfeyvesigsbillnyears."
"Good. I like a body with stamina. Even a celestial one."
"Rogerin'," Bob agreed.
"What's happening?" said Tony Fisher from the back. "Ooo, pretty. Is it an advert?"
That was when all the phones started to ring.
***
Twenty minutes later, Nicholas and Danny were in Mrs. Poulter's kitchen, trying to convince her that there had not been an air disaster, terrorist attack, UFO landing, shuttle explosion, or doomsday asteroid, and that they were in no danger. Nicholas was drawing a diagram on a paper serviette. "Look. It's perfectly simple. Betelgeuse is five hundred light years away, right?"
"If you say so," said Mrs. Poulter.
"Approximately. That means that it's taken five centuries for just the light -- the bit we see -- to get here."
She looked doubtful. "Yes."
"Meanwhile, the actual bits are travelling, much, much more slowly. Like...like a snail trailing after a Ferrari."
"Yes."
"And even assuming any of the debris ever makes it this far..."
***
"Good news!" said Andy Cartwright, backing away from Mr. Murchison's garden fence. "Not, as reported, a space monster in the bin."
"Color me surprised," said Andy Wainwright.
"It is, however, a badger. And it's trapped. And a bit angry. Angry, trapped badger."
"This badger," said Wainwright, "Knows nothing of anger. It has never faced the righteous wrath of the CID."
"You're going to do something really stupid, aren't you?"
Wainwright grinned. "Don't be a twat. I am merely going to rescue this poor, trapped creature from its predicament and return it to its natural environment." He brandished the spade he'd taken from the boot of the car. "With this shovel."
"Oh God," Cartwright sighed. "Fine. I've got your back, then."
***
Nicholas was drinking a cup of tea, while Danny and Mrs. Poulter worked intently over the serviette. Now there were several sticky notes attached.
"Okay," said Danny. "It's really simple. You know Superman?"
"What?" said Nicholas.
"Yes," said Mrs Poulter.
"Okay. He escapes the destruction of the planet Krypton in his little rocket, thanks to his dad Jor-El being this amazing scientist, right?"
"Right."
"But the Kryptonite..."
***
Bob Walker sat in a folding chair, sipping a glass of cider, while Saxon played glo-Frisbee with a traveller's child. They had been sent to investigate a report of a crashed UFO in Mr. and Mrs. Sower's field. This turned out to be a group of local teenagers, a few travellers, and the farmers themselves, who had banded together in order to build an impromptu, firelit landing strip lined with candles in glass jars, and a bonfire beacon "in case there are any alien refugees, man, who need, like, a place to land where they won't be hassled by The Man. No offense."
But Bob had been hassled by The Man once or twice back in the day, and agreed that such a turn of events would, in fact, be a total bummer. He and Saxon remained on the scene in order to secure the area, and to make sure the silly fuckers didn't set fire to themselves.
He turned down the offer of a generous spliff. He was on duty, after all.
***
"An' that's what happened to Supergirl." Danny inscribed a broad arc on the serviette. "On the other hand, Beppo the Super Monkey goes this way..."
"Wait," said Nicholas. "The what monkey?"
"Beppo the Super Monkey," said Danny, patiently.
"He had a little cape," said Mrs. Poulter, nodding.
"Yeah," said Danny.
"There's also a horse," said Mrs. Poulter.
"Yeah. Comet," said Danny. "And a cat."
"Streaky," said Mrs. Poulter.
"Wait," said Nicholas. "Go back. A monkey?"
***
The traffic collision wasn't a bad one. The young driver, Sally Harper, was uninjured. But she had never been allowed to take the family car on her own, at night, and was sobbing hysterically at the thought of what her parents were going to say. She'd thought the sudden light of the explosion was a massive, oncoming lorry, and steered into a hedge to avoid it.
Doris Thatcher thought longingly of her assault rifle, and wondered if her entire Service career was gong to consist of patting the afflicted on the shoulder and saying, There, there. Stars blow up, she thought, and I have to say There, there.
In all fairness, poor Sally hadn't truly lost her composure until Tony Fisher had come up to her from behind, in the dark, and said, "Soooooooooooooooo, what do we have here, then?" to her. So really, it wasn't her fault, and just as well that Doris was there.
She would have to have a word with Tony about interacting with members of the public.
Better yet, she thought, she'd get Inspector Angel to do it.
***
"They hold television appeals on behalf of people like you," said Andy Cartwright.
"Hah!" Andy Wainwright grinned wolfishly. He was covered in mud, and had somehow lost his shovel.
"Pointless, ineffective appeals that no sane person would waste their hard-earned money on. Just what would you have done if the fucker had gone after you instead of breaking for the gate?"
"It'd never have taken me."
"It would've fucking bit the holy living shit out of you, and then we'd be sitting in Casualty and you'd be waiting for the first of a series of incredibly painful injections."
"Those shots aren't near as painful nowadays."
"..." Cartwright had no words. Just little dots and an expression of utter disbelief.
Wainwright carried on. "Ferocious badgers, ha! Ferocious pansies, more like!"
"Yeah, yeah, you're a ferocious pansy..." Cartwright knocked on Mr. Glaser's back door. At least they could inform him that Operation: Get the Space Monster Out of the Bin was a complete success.
Chalk up another one for the CID.
***
"And so they banded together as the Legion of Super Pets!" Danny and Mrs. Poulter were on their third serviette, and second ink color. They'd also added a foil star sticker, and a couple of SIGN HERE sticky flags.
After a bit, Nicholas said, "I can't think of anything to say."
"Wait," Mrs. Poulter said. "I do see what you're saying. But...Krypton was just a planet. This thing tonight is a whole star."
Danny stared at her for a moment. "Oh," he said.
***
"I do see what you're saying," Sergeant Turner said into the phone. "I saw the thing, too. I'm not saying there's nothing there. It's even on the telly now."
Sky News was playing silently to itself, a graphic in one corner screaming FIRE IN THE SKY!
"The problem is, other solar systems, even if those solar systems are full of criminals and miscreants -- and I'm not saying that's the case here -- are not a part of the Sandford Constabulary's jurisdiction. And while you've got a pretty spectacular celestial event going on, as near as I can tell, it's not in violation of any British law.
"No, I promise I'm not part of any sort of vast government conspiracy. Really. Well, that I know of. Admittedly, I could be an unwitting stooge or pawn of great and sinister powers..."
The other Turner snorted derisively.
Turner put a hand over the phone. "Shut it, you!"
"Dunno what they expect us to do," said the other Turner. "We're not the...sky police."
Turner snorted, and went back to the phone. "I don't know. MI5? The RAF? The Royal Observatory at Greenwich? I'm sure they're still up... RAF it is, then! Let me find you the number..."
***
"You boys have a good night, now. I do feel better, thank you."
"It's why we're here," said Nicholas. "Good night, ma'am."
"Night, Mrs. Poulter," said Danny.
She shut the door.
Nicholas started down the steps, writing in his notebook with a little light-up pen he'd found at the stationer's (he'd removed the pink feathers and bobbly Gonk). "Well," he said, "That was certainly--"
Danny touched his arm. "Wait."
"What?"
"D'you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
There was a long sound, faint and low at first, but quickly building in pitch and volume.
"That...holy fuck!"
Danny shoved Nicholas off the steps, landing on top of him to -- as had become routine -- shield him from the rain of flaming debris.
The sound was a bit -- Danny always said afterwards -- like this:
mmmmmmmmmnnnnneeeeeeeoooooOOOOOOOMBOOSH!
The BOOSH! being Danny's approximation of the sound of a meteor smashing into their nearly-new squad car, which was parked in front of Mrs. Poulter's gate. It hit the bonnet (the mechanic showed them later), continued on along the windscreen, tore through the passenger seat, and finally settled somewhere in the boot. This caused the rear half of the car to implode, its tires sticking out like a toddler's feet.
The windscreen wipers, car alarm, lights, and siren all went off at once.
Nicholas and Danny could only stare.
"I really wish you'd stop doing that," said Nicholas. They had landed in a flower bed, still moist from the afternoon rain.
"Sorry," said Danny. "Reflex. It's, thingie, ingrained now."
"Oh good."
Once again, they helped each other to their feet.
"Huh." Danny shook his head. "Why didn't it--?"
The car exploded. One of the nave plates whistled across the yard and lodged in Mrs. Poulter's mail slot. The windows facing the lane all cracked.
"Jesus Christ!" said Nicholas.
Mrs. Poulter opened the door, took in the burning car, the smoke trail leading from the sky, and the aluminum disc jammed in her door. She glared down at Nicholas and Danny with an expression of utter betrayal, and shut the door again. Hard to blame her, really.
Danny looked at Nicholas. "D'you think she'll let us use her phone?"
Nicholas hit him with his notebook.
***
Ten minutes later, Nicholas, Danny, the Andies, Doris, Tony, Bob, and Saxon were all gathered round watching as the fire brigade put out the burning car.
"What did you do?" Andy Wainwright asked Nicholas.
"Stop blowing stuff up!" Andy Cartwright told him.
"I did NOT BLOW IT UP-- I did not blow it up. It blew it up."
"It were a meteor," Danny said. "Totally coincidental and unrelated."
"Meteorite," Nicholas corrected. "It hit the ground."
"Meteorite," Danny agreed.
(There was actually much beer-fueled disagreement on this point in later years, since the object had lodged in the very back of the car and never actually touched the ground. Occasionally some outsider would try to point out that of course it was a meteorite, and be shouted down for his trouble. Some people just don't understand the point of a good running argument.)
"I thought you said the..." Doris gestured up at the bright and fuzzy object that had once been Betelgeuse. "...couldn't actually do anything to us."
"It can't. This is a completely different phenomenon."
"Riiiiiiight," said Doris, Tony, and Bob.
"Phenomenon?" said Andy Wainwright.
"Do-doo do-doo-do," Andy Cartwright sang.
"Shut it!" Nicholas said.
The Andys grinned at each other. Sometimes, they could play Inspector Angel like a cranky violin.
"Wait," Nicholas said to Andy Wainwright. "Why are you covered in mud?"
Wainwright looked Nicholas up and down. "Why are you?"
***
"...ask, once again, exactly what protocols the current government have in place to prevent the spontaneous self-destruction of our own solar system?"
"Booooooooooooooo!"
"I refer the honorable gentleman to the answer I gave earlier."
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"
"Boooooooooooooooo!"
Click.
"...I'll say it was a surprise, Barbara!"
Click.
"--avid Tennant is in the studio to give his reaction to--"
Click.
"END OF A WORLD, on CNN!"
Click.
"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my--"
Click.
"All right, then, Geoffrey, what do you say to the reports of a police car in the West Country destroyed by a piece of flaming stellar debris?"
"These are just rumors, David..."
Danny chuckled. Nicholas could feel the sound through his whole body, and hear it through the back of his head.
Click.
"--forty-four members of an evangelical sect in Texas have apparently committed suici--"
Click.
"--sont fous, ces Romains!"
Click.
They were stretched out on Danny's sofa, finally managing to unwind after a night and a day of ... not-quite-chaos. Brushfire freakouts, you might call them, that needed putting out.
"--ordwide nuclear alert--"
Click.
"--had a plan to get us off the island, but it depended on the frickin' polar bear still being alive!"
Click.
"--occupying a public park in Turin for the last 18 hours, in anticipation of the glorious appearing of Jesus Ch--"
Click.
Sandford had returned to normal. Though of course normal for Sandford was... well, Nicholas was still trying to figure out just what it was. Television, at least, had returned to its usual level of manufactured crisis.
"...spike in sales of telescopes and binoculars, while I SURVIVED THE DESTRUCTION OF BETELGEUSE t-shirts--"
Click.
"...claim that photographs of the new nebula show the image of Princess Diana..."
CLICK. Nicholas, after resisting temptation for the better part of ten minutes, poked the MUTE button with his index finger.
"I was watchin' that!" Danny objected.
"No you weren't. That was your fourth time through the channels."
"It was?"
"I counted."
"Oh."
Danny was strong and soft and warm against his back.
"It's all a bit scary."
"What is?"
"That." Danny gestured at the silent television with the remote. "It's like anything could just completely come apart at any time."
"Well, it could." Nicholas wedged himself in closer.
"Are you trying to help? 'Cause you ain't helping."
"Sorry." Nicholas did his best to sound contrite.
They lay in the blue light of the television for a bit. "2012 - APOCALYPSE SOON?" said a corner graphic.
"Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"I'd throw you to the ground and shield you from flaming debris, you know."
Danny chuckled. "You're too little."
I could throw you," Nicholas insisted. "I do judo."
"Yeah, but you'd be a completely crap shield."
Nicholas had to admit that this was so.
"Anyway..." Danny said.
"Anyway?"
"It might have sort of been my fault."
"What?"
"That there on the telly."
"There are a great many people who have to answer for Fox News, Danny, but you're not one of them."
"Not that. The whole...sky blooie thing."
"I am dying to know how."
"Just before you came outside? I was kind of thinking it would be nice if there were more light in the sky."
Nicholas nodded gravely. "So, the power of your subconscious mind..."
"I'm just saying."
"Huh."
They were quiet again.
"Well," said Nicholas, "I suppose it's like they say, 'Better to psychokinetically destroy a single solar system than curse the darkness.'"
"Yeah. Who says that?"
"Me, just now. Your birthday!"
"What?"
"We forgot your birthday, Danny."
"Oh. Yeah. Heh."
"I could--" He started to get up.
Danny held him back. "Nah. Leave it. This is nice."
Nicholas nodded. It was nice. He was going all sleepy and melty, and oh, fuck, he'd never got the cake from the baker's. Somebody in Sandford got a bargain on a HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANNY cowboy cake. He'd have to make apologies tomorrow. And order a new cake. And try to remember where he'd hidden Danny's present...
"Cake," Nicholas muttered.
"Night," Danny agreed.
The television carried on talking to itself. But then, that's what it did best.
***
The meteorite, and the demolished police car, can now be seen in the Sandford Museum (next to the National Trust shop). They were not the first bits of historical debris on display associated with Nicholas Angel's tenure with the Sandford Police Service, and very likely will not be the last.
Mrs. Poulter's insurance company and the local council are still arguing over who will pay for the damage done to her home. They expect to reach a final settlement within a year or two.
Danny's second birthday cake was a patisserie approximation of a shooting star, with tiny plastic aliens as passengers. His original cake, it turned out, had been purchased (at a discount) by the impromptu ET welcoming committee in the Sowers' field. They had all for some mysterious reason found themselves suddenly very hungry, just as the bakery was about to close for the night.
NOTES: Betelgeuse has not, as of this writing, exploded, but it could blow any...second...now! Or not. The science is as good as I can make it, but sources vary, God knows why, on exactly how far away Betelgeuse is. I went with the Britannica and an honest-to-God librarian. However, any errors are, of course, my fault. Danny is mistaken about the path taken by Beppo the Super-Monkey; he stowed away in baby Kal-El's ship. Bet they never showed you that on Smallville.
THANKS TO: crantz, cybertardis, viedma (h to g librarian, who also came up with the best joke), and violetisblue; The Universe; the collected works of Fred Hembeck; Mom, for tales of the Martian invasion of 1938; and my brother Donnie, who once explained gravitational lensing to me at the kitchen table with a ball-point pen and a paper napkin.
If you're desperate to know more, Wikipedia has the lowdown on Beppo the Super-Monkey, Krypto the Super-Dog, Comet the Super-Horse, and Streaky the Super-Cat. There may also be some science stuff on there, too.
FANDOM: Hot Fuzz
AUTHOR: annlarimer
WORD COUNT: 4,000
RATING: PG fer the cussin', and shit blows up
SUMMARY: Nicholas Angel, Destroyer of Worlds
NOTES: Crit is love. Story notes at the end.
DISCLAIMER: I not has Fuzzburger.
It was a lovely spring evening in Sandford. Clear and calm, just a bit warmer than was usual for the time of year.
Danny Butterman stepped out into the yard behind the new police station, momentarily silhouetted in the light that spilled out from inside. Party noises leaked out with the light -- pre-party, really, until the squad were off duty and could reconvene at the pub -- then muted as he closed the door. He stretched a bit, and looked up at the sky.
A few more weeks, and this time of the evening it'd still be daylight. You could never have too much daylight, as far as Danny was concerned. Darkness could be friendly and comforting, but too much made it easy for people to hide. And lose themselves.
Still, it let you see the stars. Danny knew a lot of the constellations, and even some single stars. His Dad had taught him a few, and he was perhaps the only child in the history of Sandford Primary School to keep their names in his head past exam times. The Plow (or, if you prefer, Bear), the Other Plow (or Extra Bear), the Girl Who Looks Like a W, The Flying Horse That's More Like A Square Than a Horse Really, Orion (Danny always remembered him from Men in Black) with his little belt -- missing a loop apparently, because it dangled -- and The Two Tiny-Headed Blokes.
They were all so still and tall.
He wondered who lived up there. Maybe, right now, on a Bear's snout or a Bloke's foot, somebody with a really good telescope was looking this way, and could see him.
Danny waved, just in case. Hello there. Sandford Welcomes You. We really mean it now.
The party was in his honor, a combination not-really-surprise birthday, station warming, and congratulations on making Sergeant. Amazing stuff, and Danny had every reason to be proud. He'd done amazing things in the last year. He'd sat the Sergeant exams and, appalling spelling aside, handily kicked their arses. He'd come as near to being a corpse as he cared to, at least for another forty or fifty years, and survived. He'd helped save his town from villains -- actual villains! -- and, somehow, somehow, he'd managed to find himself an unbelievably amazing fella. He'd even even taken the radical step of painting his sitting room, changing it to a pale beige that was hardly beige at all.
To sum up: amazing.
He was also tired, and the new station didn't smell right, and he missed his Dad.
The door opened again, sending another slice of light into the grass, and Nicholas Angel looked out.
"All right?"
"Yeah. I just wanted a moment away from people."
"Oh. I'll leave you alone, then."
Danny held out an arm. "You're not people, Nicholas."
"Oh. Well. Thanks very much." He sidled up next to Danny. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah. It's just...lot of changes lately. Good, mostly. But sometimes it hurts a fella's brain, thinkin' about it all."
Angel nodded. "Yes it does."
They looked at the stars.
"There's Orion," Angel said.
"Yeah. Say hello."
Nicholas gave Orion a small wave. "The stars don't change, at least," he said. "Well, they do, but not so we notice. He was up there before you and I were even thought of. And he'll be there long after we've gone."
***
When dealing with the vast distances of interstellar space, time -- and our concept of time -- starts to get tricky. The things we see in the sky are only as current as the speed of light allows. The moon we see is ten seconds old. The sun in the sky actually happened eight minutes ago.
The red giant Betelgeuse marks Orion's right shoulder (his right, our left). Betelgeuse, I'm sure you know, is getting on in years, and likely to go nova as soon as the mood strikes. Light from Betelgeuse only reaches us after 500 (and a bit) years of hard slog. So bear in mind that the following sentence, while accurate, is only accurate from a particular spatiotemporal point of view:
Just then, Betelgeuse exploded.
For a moment there was nothing but light.
The next thing either of them knew, Nicholas was on the ground, Danny on top of him. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then:
"Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"What...what are you doing?"
"Erm...shielding you from the rain of flaming debris?"
Nicholas kind of patted him. "Would...would you mind awfully getting off me?"
"Um. Yeah." Danny managed to avoid putting a knee into Nicholas' bits, and they sort of helped each other to their feet, blinking.
The star Betelgeuse had been replaced by something big and bright and fuzzy.
From all over Sandford -- indeed, all over England, if you had ears to hear -- came the sounds of roosters crowing, dogs barking, windows and doors opening, and people spilling out into the lanes. Also, for some reason, car alarms. Car alarms never like being left out.
"Whoah," said Danny.
"Jesus," said Angel.
"What the fuck was that?" A child of the Eighties, visions of limiting fire hazards and proceeding to the Inner Refuge before the fallout started danced in his head. But the light in the sky...seemed wrong for that sort of thing.
"It -- that star there just fucking exploded! I was looking right at it."
"How'd you do that?"
Nicholas gaped at the tiny new...well, it wasn't tiny, it was bigger and brighter than the old thing...what the hell was it called now? Certainly not a star. "I swear it wasn't me."
"For a minute I thought it was the bombs finally come."
"Yeah." Protect and Survive had been nightmare fodder for much of Nicholas' adolescence.
The door opened again, and Andy Wainwright stuck his head out. "If you two giant pooves don't mind, we're all ready to -- what the fucking hell's that?"
"It were Nicholas," said Danny. "He broke the universe."
"Again? Stop doing that!" Andy hit Nicholas in the head.
"It was not me!" Nicholas protested. "And don't hit the officer in charge."
Wainwright cuffed him again. "I don't have a bin. Andy, holy fuck, get out here!" he called back into the station.
Andy Cartwright appeared at his shoulder, the rest of the squad close on his heels. "What the fuck? They got the Death Star!"
"I hope it's not Jesus come back," said a Turner. "There's a match this weekend."
Saxon the police dog squeezed out through the tangle of legs, barking furiously at the light.
"Shuddid, Sax!" said Bob Walker. "Sonlybeeljusasplodin."
Saxon looked at Bob doubtfully, or as close as he got where Bob was concerned, but his barks subsided to a low, simmering mutter.
"I hope nobody was livin' there," said the other Turner.
"I hope we're not next," said Doris.
"Nar, sunsgottanutherfeyvesigsbillnyears."
"Good. I like a body with stamina. Even a celestial one."
"Rogerin'," Bob agreed.
"What's happening?" said Tony Fisher from the back. "Ooo, pretty. Is it an advert?"
That was when all the phones started to ring.
***
Twenty minutes later, Nicholas and Danny were in Mrs. Poulter's kitchen, trying to convince her that there had not been an air disaster, terrorist attack, UFO landing, shuttle explosion, or doomsday asteroid, and that they were in no danger. Nicholas was drawing a diagram on a paper serviette. "Look. It's perfectly simple. Betelgeuse is five hundred light years away, right?"
"If you say so," said Mrs. Poulter.
"Approximately. That means that it's taken five centuries for just the light -- the bit we see -- to get here."
She looked doubtful. "Yes."
"Meanwhile, the actual bits are travelling, much, much more slowly. Like...like a snail trailing after a Ferrari."
"Yes."
"And even assuming any of the debris ever makes it this far..."
***
"Good news!" said Andy Cartwright, backing away from Mr. Murchison's garden fence. "Not, as reported, a space monster in the bin."
"Color me surprised," said Andy Wainwright.
"It is, however, a badger. And it's trapped. And a bit angry. Angry, trapped badger."
"This badger," said Wainwright, "Knows nothing of anger. It has never faced the righteous wrath of the CID."
"You're going to do something really stupid, aren't you?"
Wainwright grinned. "Don't be a twat. I am merely going to rescue this poor, trapped creature from its predicament and return it to its natural environment." He brandished the spade he'd taken from the boot of the car. "With this shovel."
"Oh God," Cartwright sighed. "Fine. I've got your back, then."
***
Nicholas was drinking a cup of tea, while Danny and Mrs. Poulter worked intently over the serviette. Now there were several sticky notes attached.
"Okay," said Danny. "It's really simple. You know Superman?"
"What?" said Nicholas.
"Yes," said Mrs Poulter.
"Okay. He escapes the destruction of the planet Krypton in his little rocket, thanks to his dad Jor-El being this amazing scientist, right?"
"Right."
"But the Kryptonite..."
***
Bob Walker sat in a folding chair, sipping a glass of cider, while Saxon played glo-Frisbee with a traveller's child. They had been sent to investigate a report of a crashed UFO in Mr. and Mrs. Sower's field. This turned out to be a group of local teenagers, a few travellers, and the farmers themselves, who had banded together in order to build an impromptu, firelit landing strip lined with candles in glass jars, and a bonfire beacon "in case there are any alien refugees, man, who need, like, a place to land where they won't be hassled by The Man. No offense."
But Bob had been hassled by The Man once or twice back in the day, and agreed that such a turn of events would, in fact, be a total bummer. He and Saxon remained on the scene in order to secure the area, and to make sure the silly fuckers didn't set fire to themselves.
He turned down the offer of a generous spliff. He was on duty, after all.
***
"An' that's what happened to Supergirl." Danny inscribed a broad arc on the serviette. "On the other hand, Beppo the Super Monkey goes this way..."
"Wait," said Nicholas. "The what monkey?"
"Beppo the Super Monkey," said Danny, patiently.
"He had a little cape," said Mrs. Poulter, nodding.
"Yeah," said Danny.
"There's also a horse," said Mrs. Poulter.
"Yeah. Comet," said Danny. "And a cat."
"Streaky," said Mrs. Poulter.
"Wait," said Nicholas. "Go back. A monkey?"
***
The traffic collision wasn't a bad one. The young driver, Sally Harper, was uninjured. But she had never been allowed to take the family car on her own, at night, and was sobbing hysterically at the thought of what her parents were going to say. She'd thought the sudden light of the explosion was a massive, oncoming lorry, and steered into a hedge to avoid it.
Doris Thatcher thought longingly of her assault rifle, and wondered if her entire Service career was gong to consist of patting the afflicted on the shoulder and saying, There, there. Stars blow up, she thought, and I have to say There, there.
In all fairness, poor Sally hadn't truly lost her composure until Tony Fisher had come up to her from behind, in the dark, and said, "Soooooooooooooooo, what do we have here, then?" to her. So really, it wasn't her fault, and just as well that Doris was there.
She would have to have a word with Tony about interacting with members of the public.
Better yet, she thought, she'd get Inspector Angel to do it.
***
"They hold television appeals on behalf of people like you," said Andy Cartwright.
"Hah!" Andy Wainwright grinned wolfishly. He was covered in mud, and had somehow lost his shovel.
"Pointless, ineffective appeals that no sane person would waste their hard-earned money on. Just what would you have done if the fucker had gone after you instead of breaking for the gate?"
"It'd never have taken me."
"It would've fucking bit the holy living shit out of you, and then we'd be sitting in Casualty and you'd be waiting for the first of a series of incredibly painful injections."
"Those shots aren't near as painful nowadays."
"..." Cartwright had no words. Just little dots and an expression of utter disbelief.
Wainwright carried on. "Ferocious badgers, ha! Ferocious pansies, more like!"
"Yeah, yeah, you're a ferocious pansy..." Cartwright knocked on Mr. Glaser's back door. At least they could inform him that Operation: Get the Space Monster Out of the Bin was a complete success.
Chalk up another one for the CID.
***
"And so they banded together as the Legion of Super Pets!" Danny and Mrs. Poulter were on their third serviette, and second ink color. They'd also added a foil star sticker, and a couple of SIGN HERE sticky flags.
After a bit, Nicholas said, "I can't think of anything to say."
"Wait," Mrs. Poulter said. "I do see what you're saying. But...Krypton was just a planet. This thing tonight is a whole star."
Danny stared at her for a moment. "Oh," he said.
***
"I do see what you're saying," Sergeant Turner said into the phone. "I saw the thing, too. I'm not saying there's nothing there. It's even on the telly now."
Sky News was playing silently to itself, a graphic in one corner screaming FIRE IN THE SKY!
"The problem is, other solar systems, even if those solar systems are full of criminals and miscreants -- and I'm not saying that's the case here -- are not a part of the Sandford Constabulary's jurisdiction. And while you've got a pretty spectacular celestial event going on, as near as I can tell, it's not in violation of any British law.
"No, I promise I'm not part of any sort of vast government conspiracy. Really. Well, that I know of. Admittedly, I could be an unwitting stooge or pawn of great and sinister powers..."
The other Turner snorted derisively.
Turner put a hand over the phone. "Shut it, you!"
"Dunno what they expect us to do," said the other Turner. "We're not the...sky police."
Turner snorted, and went back to the phone. "I don't know. MI5? The RAF? The Royal Observatory at Greenwich? I'm sure they're still up... RAF it is, then! Let me find you the number..."
***
"You boys have a good night, now. I do feel better, thank you."
"It's why we're here," said Nicholas. "Good night, ma'am."
"Night, Mrs. Poulter," said Danny.
She shut the door.
Nicholas started down the steps, writing in his notebook with a little light-up pen he'd found at the stationer's (he'd removed the pink feathers and bobbly Gonk). "Well," he said, "That was certainly--"
Danny touched his arm. "Wait."
"What?"
"D'you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
There was a long sound, faint and low at first, but quickly building in pitch and volume.
"That...holy fuck!"
Danny shoved Nicholas off the steps, landing on top of him to -- as had become routine -- shield him from the rain of flaming debris.
The sound was a bit -- Danny always said afterwards -- like this:
mmmmmmmmmnnnnneeeeeeeoooooOOOOOOOMBOOSH!
The BOOSH! being Danny's approximation of the sound of a meteor smashing into their nearly-new squad car, which was parked in front of Mrs. Poulter's gate. It hit the bonnet (the mechanic showed them later), continued on along the windscreen, tore through the passenger seat, and finally settled somewhere in the boot. This caused the rear half of the car to implode, its tires sticking out like a toddler's feet.
The windscreen wipers, car alarm, lights, and siren all went off at once.
Nicholas and Danny could only stare.
"I really wish you'd stop doing that," said Nicholas. They had landed in a flower bed, still moist from the afternoon rain.
"Sorry," said Danny. "Reflex. It's, thingie, ingrained now."
"Oh good."
Once again, they helped each other to their feet.
"Huh." Danny shook his head. "Why didn't it--?"
The car exploded. One of the nave plates whistled across the yard and lodged in Mrs. Poulter's mail slot. The windows facing the lane all cracked.
"Jesus Christ!" said Nicholas.
Mrs. Poulter opened the door, took in the burning car, the smoke trail leading from the sky, and the aluminum disc jammed in her door. She glared down at Nicholas and Danny with an expression of utter betrayal, and shut the door again. Hard to blame her, really.
Danny looked at Nicholas. "D'you think she'll let us use her phone?"
Nicholas hit him with his notebook.
***
Ten minutes later, Nicholas, Danny, the Andies, Doris, Tony, Bob, and Saxon were all gathered round watching as the fire brigade put out the burning car.
"What did you do?" Andy Wainwright asked Nicholas.
"Stop blowing stuff up!" Andy Cartwright told him.
"I did NOT BLOW IT UP-- I did not blow it up. It blew it up."
"It were a meteor," Danny said. "Totally coincidental and unrelated."
"Meteorite," Nicholas corrected. "It hit the ground."
"Meteorite," Danny agreed.
(There was actually much beer-fueled disagreement on this point in later years, since the object had lodged in the very back of the car and never actually touched the ground. Occasionally some outsider would try to point out that of course it was a meteorite, and be shouted down for his trouble. Some people just don't understand the point of a good running argument.)
"I thought you said the..." Doris gestured up at the bright and fuzzy object that had once been Betelgeuse. "...couldn't actually do anything to us."
"It can't. This is a completely different phenomenon."
"Riiiiiiight," said Doris, Tony, and Bob.
"Phenomenon?" said Andy Wainwright.
"Do-doo do-doo-do," Andy Cartwright sang.
"Shut it!" Nicholas said.
The Andys grinned at each other. Sometimes, they could play Inspector Angel like a cranky violin.
"Wait," Nicholas said to Andy Wainwright. "Why are you covered in mud?"
Wainwright looked Nicholas up and down. "Why are you?"
***
"...ask, once again, exactly what protocols the current government have in place to prevent the spontaneous self-destruction of our own solar system?"
"Booooooooooooooo!"
"I refer the honorable gentleman to the answer I gave earlier."
"Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!"
"Boooooooooooooooo!"
Click.
"...I'll say it was a surprise, Barbara!"
Click.
"--avid Tennant is in the studio to give his reaction to--"
Click.
"END OF A WORLD, on CNN!"
Click.
"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my--"
Click.
"All right, then, Geoffrey, what do you say to the reports of a police car in the West Country destroyed by a piece of flaming stellar debris?"
"These are just rumors, David..."
Danny chuckled. Nicholas could feel the sound through his whole body, and hear it through the back of his head.
Click.
"--forty-four members of an evangelical sect in Texas have apparently committed suici--"
Click.
"--sont fous, ces Romains!"
Click.
They were stretched out on Danny's sofa, finally managing to unwind after a night and a day of ... not-quite-chaos. Brushfire freakouts, you might call them, that needed putting out.
"--ordwide nuclear alert--"
Click.
"--had a plan to get us off the island, but it depended on the frickin' polar bear still being alive!"
Click.
"--occupying a public park in Turin for the last 18 hours, in anticipation of the glorious appearing of Jesus Ch--"
Click.
Sandford had returned to normal. Though of course normal for Sandford was... well, Nicholas was still trying to figure out just what it was. Television, at least, had returned to its usual level of manufactured crisis.
"...spike in sales of telescopes and binoculars, while I SURVIVED THE DESTRUCTION OF BETELGEUSE t-shirts--"
Click.
"...claim that photographs of the new nebula show the image of Princess Diana..."
CLICK. Nicholas, after resisting temptation for the better part of ten minutes, poked the MUTE button with his index finger.
"I was watchin' that!" Danny objected.
"No you weren't. That was your fourth time through the channels."
"It was?"
"I counted."
"Oh."
Danny was strong and soft and warm against his back.
"It's all a bit scary."
"What is?"
"That." Danny gestured at the silent television with the remote. "It's like anything could just completely come apart at any time."
"Well, it could." Nicholas wedged himself in closer.
"Are you trying to help? 'Cause you ain't helping."
"Sorry." Nicholas did his best to sound contrite.
They lay in the blue light of the television for a bit. "2012 - APOCALYPSE SOON?" said a corner graphic.
"Danny?"
"Yeah?"
"I'd throw you to the ground and shield you from flaming debris, you know."
Danny chuckled. "You're too little."
I could throw you," Nicholas insisted. "I do judo."
"Yeah, but you'd be a completely crap shield."
Nicholas had to admit that this was so.
"Anyway..." Danny said.
"Anyway?"
"It might have sort of been my fault."
"What?"
"That there on the telly."
"There are a great many people who have to answer for Fox News, Danny, but you're not one of them."
"Not that. The whole...sky blooie thing."
"I am dying to know how."
"Just before you came outside? I was kind of thinking it would be nice if there were more light in the sky."
Nicholas nodded gravely. "So, the power of your subconscious mind..."
"I'm just saying."
"Huh."
They were quiet again.
"Well," said Nicholas, "I suppose it's like they say, 'Better to psychokinetically destroy a single solar system than curse the darkness.'"
"Yeah. Who says that?"
"Me, just now. Your birthday!"
"What?"
"We forgot your birthday, Danny."
"Oh. Yeah. Heh."
"I could--" He started to get up.
Danny held him back. "Nah. Leave it. This is nice."
Nicholas nodded. It was nice. He was going all sleepy and melty, and oh, fuck, he'd never got the cake from the baker's. Somebody in Sandford got a bargain on a HAPPY BIRTHDAY DANNY cowboy cake. He'd have to make apologies tomorrow. And order a new cake. And try to remember where he'd hidden Danny's present...
"Cake," Nicholas muttered.
"Night," Danny agreed.
The television carried on talking to itself. But then, that's what it did best.
***
The meteorite, and the demolished police car, can now be seen in the Sandford Museum (next to the National Trust shop). They were not the first bits of historical debris on display associated with Nicholas Angel's tenure with the Sandford Police Service, and very likely will not be the last.
Mrs. Poulter's insurance company and the local council are still arguing over who will pay for the damage done to her home. They expect to reach a final settlement within a year or two.
Danny's second birthday cake was a patisserie approximation of a shooting star, with tiny plastic aliens as passengers. His original cake, it turned out, had been purchased (at a discount) by the impromptu ET welcoming committee in the Sowers' field. They had all for some mysterious reason found themselves suddenly very hungry, just as the bakery was about to close for the night.
NOTES: Betelgeuse has not, as of this writing, exploded, but it could blow any...second...now! Or not. The science is as good as I can make it, but sources vary, God knows why, on exactly how far away Betelgeuse is. I went with the Britannica and an honest-to-God librarian. However, any errors are, of course, my fault. Danny is mistaken about the path taken by Beppo the Super-Monkey; he stowed away in baby Kal-El's ship. Bet they never showed you that on Smallville.
THANKS TO: crantz, cybertardis, viedma (h to g librarian, who also came up with the best joke), and violetisblue; The Universe; the collected works of Fred Hembeck; Mom, for tales of the Martian invasion of 1938; and my brother Donnie, who once explained gravitational lensing to me at the kitchen table with a ball-point pen and a paper napkin.
If you're desperate to know more, Wikipedia has the lowdown on Beppo the Super-Monkey, Krypto the Super-Dog, Comet the Super-Horse, and Streaky the Super-Cat. There may also be some science stuff on there, too.