Tunnels 04, Closer

-- it's all about these giant robots that come to Earth from outer space and have to battle its population in order to save it... to avert an ecological disaster."
    Chester had no idea how to react to this, simply going over to Eddie to take the films from him. "Er... great... thanks," he mumbled. He turned to Drake, looking more than a little sheepish. "This operation... are you sure you don't want me along with you? I could act as a lookout? Or I could just help carry some of the kit?"
    No need, Chester -- we've got it covered," Drake replied. "Two of us will be enough -- we're just going to slip in and get the job done -- shouldn't take more than a couple of hours once we're on the ground."
    "S'pose I'll go and watch my films then," Chester said, as he shuffled out of the room.

    * * * * *

    "Hallelujah!" Eliza shouted as she heard the clack of horses' hooves on the cobbled road outside. She ran to the window to peer out. "Yes, they're here!" she confirmed with another exultant shout as the cart drew up outside.
    "The day we've been hopin' and prayin' for 'as finally arrived," her mother proclaimed as she tore out of the kitchen, drying her hands on her pinafore.
    A thickset Colonist in a gray smock coat jumped down from beside the driver, the cart rocking as it was relieved of his not insignificant bulk. In a workaday manner, he began to trundle toward the house. After a few paces he stopped abruptly, swearing as if he'd forgotten something, then swung around to the cart again.
    Eliza was still watching through the window. "No... what is it now? Don't go back! Can't we just get this over with?" she urged, as he went to the rear of the cart. Leaning over the side, he retrieved a clipboard, then resumed his lumbering walk toward the house. He had raised his meaty, club-like hand, and was about to rap on the door when Eliza whisked it open.
    "Oh," he said. Eliza couldn't help but stare at the man's eyebrows -- they were so full and white and bushy they reminded her of the blight of giant penny-white caterpillars the rural areas of the North Cavern had suffered a few years ago. Surprised at how promptly the door had been opened, the man's eyebrows now seemed to be moving independently of each other, and it was all Eliza could do to fight the temptation to swat them.
    "G'd morning," he mumbled, his hand still poised in the air. He slowly lowered it, and the twin caterpillars ended their act of levitation as they settled on the ridge of his brow. Then he squinted at the printed papers on the clipboard. "Is this the residence of the Second Officer?" he inquired.
    "It is," Eliza answered eagerly. "But he's not here. He's at work."
    "No matter. I can serve this notice anyway," the man said and, clearing his throat, began to read. "Under Order 366, Edict 23, for the furtherance of the Scientists' knowledge, you are hereby required to provide--"
    The Second Officer's mother poked her head out from behind her daughter. "You've come for the Topsoiler," she cut him short.
    "Er... I have," the man confirmed.
    "Then don't bother with all that offissal 'ogwash. She's in 'ere," the old lady said. Although her aged body was small and shrunken, she pulled hard on the man's arm, tugging him into the sitting room where Mrs. Burrows was in her bath chair. "Just get rid of 'er."
    "This is the person?" he inquired.
    "She's not a person, she's a Topsoiler. Now, please, just get her out of here," Eliza said impatiently. 'But leave the bath chair because it's not ours and we have to give it back."
    Placing his papers on the sideboard, the man rolled up the sleeves of his smock. He made clicking noises with his tongue as he looked Mrs. Burrows over, trying to work out how much she weighed, as if she was a piece of unwieldy furniture. However, the oversized dress that swamped her slim frame made it rather difficult for him to make an assessment. With a last click of his tongue, he stepped closer to her, tentatively lifting her arm in the billowing sleeve of her dress.
    "And we want to keep the clothes, undergarments and all," Eliza informed him.
    Aghast at the suggestion, the man turned to her, one of his caterpillars almost doing a handstand on his sloped forehead. "What do you expect me to do -- take them off her? I can't do that -- wouldn't be decent."
    "No, not now ," Eliza laughed. "My brother can pick them up later."
    Relieved, the man continued his assessment of Mrs. Burrows. "She doesn't walk?"
    "No," Eliza laughed bitterly. "She's