Relocation Pyramids To The Stars

Author's introduction: My teaching colleagues often tease me about my love for, and my enthusiastic readiness to discuss my love of sci-fi and fantasy films and tv programmes. I particularly love Star Trek: The Next Generation. This is my version of a storyline that combines the plots of two Star Trek movies (the original ones! See if you can guess which two!)

As in all of my stories, all participants are at least eighteen years of age, and all sexual activity is consensual.

Please take time to score this story, and to comment on it. All authors appreciate their work being critiqued.

Tillbury Docks, England. Mid October, 1924

Howard Carter hurried his labourers down the gang plank, and stood before them on the dockside on a damp, grey Monday morning.

"Well men," he began, "enjoy your leave back in Blighty! You must come back here next Monday morning, when we'll be returning to the Valley of the Kings. We know where the tombs are now. We're through the outer walls and this short trip home is merely to re-stock and gather those tools that we will need to break through the inner walls. Then, gentlemen, the riches of Croesus will be ours to share!"

"Aye, believe that and you'll believe pigs can fly," muttered a voice from the back of the group. "All we are are bloody skivvies, labourers to do your hard work, and for what? Two shillings a day! Fuck that! I can get just as much down the pit back in my own village, and go home to my wife every night!"

Carter looked up, his face red with fury.

"I heard that, Idris Morgan!" he shouted. "I took you on because you are a skilled miner, but I don't need your insolent, socialist clap trap! Go home then! And take that idle Gypo who seems to be so fond of you with you! Don't bother coming back next Monday! Your services are no longer required!"

Carter and his private secretary stormed off, and the group of working class men mulled around for a while before breaking up into smaller groups and heading off in search of alcohol or sex. Both were in plentiful supply down in the docks.

Idris Morgan slapped the small brown skinned man beside him on the back, and grinned.

"Right then, Abdul," he said in his soft, lilting Welsh accent, "let's see about getting home, shall we? I feel a bit of a fool now. I've chucked a steady, regularly paid job all because I couldn't take to that smarmy bastard, Howard Carter. I said I could get a job back down the pit, but it's been a while since I did any mining. I hope Megan is still taking washing in. Otherwise we're going to be skint till payday!"

Abdul grinned, showing a set of strong, gleaming white teeth.

"No worries there, my friend," he said, taking a battered gunney sack off his shoulder. "Mr Carter never paid any of us native workers. When you asked me to come home with you, I took a couple of things in lieu of wages. Look."

He opened the bag and took out a couple of tightly wrapped bundles which were wrapped in sacking to prevent them from banging together. When the protective sacking was removed, Idris could see that they were two elaborately carved serving trays, and they were made from solid gold. They seemed to be able to be fitted together to make one large serving platter. Either that or they could be used separately, Idris reckoned.

"Arglwydd mawr!" he swore, reverting to his native tongue. "Bloody hell, Abdul, you're a bloody marvel! We can sell these and live like kings in the village. They must be worth a fortune!"

Arm in arm the two men made their way to the railway station. They had both been provided with travel passes by Howard Carter's organisation, so they were able to get on a train to south Wales easily and without having to buy a ticket. It was a long journey, but eventually they arrived in Idris's village, and they made their way to the row of tiny cottages that the mining company had built to house its workers.

Idris opened the front door.

"Megan?" he called, "I'm home, love. And I've brought a friend with me."

Megan appeared from the back kitchen, her sleeves rolled up and her hands and arms red raw from being constantly immersed in the wash tub.

"Idris!" she cried, falling into his arms. "You daft bugger! You never said you were coming home! I've got nothing ready. You'll have to make do with bread and dripping until I can rustle up some proper food for you both. Come on in, mun! The kettle's on the hob. I'll make us all a nice pot of tea."

"Oh, hello," she continued, having caught sight of Abdul behind her husband. "Who are you, then?"

"Megan this is Abdul," Idris said, pushing the young man forward. "He's been a good friend to me and, like me, he's fed up with being used by Carter and his crew as poorly paid labourers. We've chucked the job in Egypt, and we're both going to work down the pit again. I'll go and see Evans the Fixer as soon as we've had that cuppa you were talking about. Don't worry about anything to eat. We had a fry-up in the station cafe whilst we were waiting for the train home."

(Evans the Fixer was the link between the pit owners and the men employed to work there. It was his job to 'fix it' for men to do the dirty, dangerous work deep in the bowels of the earth.)

A few minutes later, Idris, Megan and Abdul were seated around the kitchen table, drinking tea. Megan was speaking.

"Evans the Fixer has been round here asking about you," she told Idris. "Men have been laid off in the pit because they're talking about forming a union. Evans said conditions underground are dreadful, and all the bosses are interested in is getting as much coal out as they can. Safety takes a back seat, according to Evans. The owners are desperate for experienced miners."

Idris considered what his wife was telling him. He grinned cheekily at her.

"If you're worried about me going back down the put," he told her, taking her rough skinned hand in his own, "there's no need. Abdul and I don't need to work, do we?"

He looked at his Egyptian friend, and Abdul shook his head.

"Idris looked after me on the dig," he told Megan, "so now it is my turn to look after him. And you, Megan, of course," he added.

He reached into his gunney sack and pulled out the two trays, which were once more wrapped in the protective sacking. He put them on the kitchen table and smiled at Megan.

"Open them," he suggested, and Megan picked up the nearest bundle.

"It's very heavy," she said, beginning to unwrap it. "What on earth is it?"

She screamed and dropped the tray onto the table. It gave a loud clang and Megan looked at Idris.

"It's gold!" she gasped. "Where the hell did you get it? Is it stolen? If so, I want it out of my house this instant! We may be poor, but we're not thieves! Get rid of it Idris, and if your friend Abdul has stolen it, get rid of him too! I'm not having a thief under my roof!"

She stood up and glared at the two astonished men. She seemed to have regained her composure.

"I mean it, Idris," she said calmly. "I'm not having stolen property in my house. You need to arrange for them to be sent back to Egypt. I don't care if you don't take them yourself, and yes, of course Abdul can lodge here whether you both get work down the pit or not. I've missed you whilst you've been away, and I'm glad that you're back. Now go and see Evans the Fixer and we'll talk about getting rid of those trays when you get back."

Idris knew when he was beaten. Wordlessly, he got to his feet, and Abdul followed suite.

"Come on, butty," Idris said quietly to his friend. "We'll go down to Evans's house and see if he's in. If the coal owners are so desperate for miners, we should have no trouble getting a job.

A couple of hours later, Idris and Abdul returned home. Megan was in the back garden, hanging wet washing on the clothes line. When she heard the front door slam, she came back into the house. She looked at Idris and smiled.

"Well?" she asked.

"All done," replied her husband. "Evans was delighted when I told him that I was looking for work, and when I introduced Abdul, he looked as if his Christmas and his birthday had both come at once!"

"We start tomorrow, at six o'clock," he continued, "so on the way back home, I called in the village Post Office. Evans the Stamps said that if I need to send something back to Egypt, it will have to be boxed up properly and left with him. He'll arrange for it to be sent down to Cardiff, and they'll take it up to London. It can go back to Egypt from there."

"How much will it cost?" asked Megan anxiously. "I know you've been sending money home, but we're a bit strapped for cash at the moment. And if..."

She looked at Abdul, and Idris stepped in to save his wife any embarrassment.

"Evans the Stamps said he'd let me know how much it'll cost to send them back," he said, taking his wife in his arms and cuddling her.

"The trays can stay here until I know how much it will cost to send them back. There's no need to worry about Abdul. We saw an advert on the notice board in the Post Office. Mrs. Evans, Miner's Row, is looking for a lodger. Evans the Stamps told us that her old man was killed down the pit a couple of months ago. She's not got any money coming in, so she's looking for a lodger to help out with the bills. We've been to see her, and Abdul can move in tonight."

"Aye, tragic it was," Megan said sadly, remembering the latest pit disaster in the area. "The roof fell in when Evans was working in the two foot seam. They managed to get his body out after a couple of days. The whole village turned out for the funeral."

Abdul spoke up for the first time since he and Idris had returned to the house.

"Megan, I'm sorry that I brought shame on your house," he said sincerely. "Yes, I stole those artifacts. But I worked like a dog for Carter, and he never paid me a penny. I thought I was only getting my own back, but I can see now that I was wrong. Whatever it costs to send them back home, I will pay from my mining wages. Idris is not at fault here. He shouldn't have to pay for my mistake. So don't worry. You won't have any expense over me. It seems that I can move into Mrs. Evans's house right away."

He grinned and looked at the astonished Megan.

"Tell me," he continued, "is everybody but you and Idris called Evans in this village?"

Megan laughed.

"Pretty much so," she replied. "I was Megan Evans before I married this daft bugger here! Now, if you're moving out, the least I can do is send you off to Mrs. Evans with a full belly. Sit you down there at the kitchen table. And you, too Idris. I've got some bacon and fresh eggs in the larder which Evans the Farm brought this morning when he dropped his dirty washing off. I'll get you both a couple of rashers with fried eggs for your tea."

As darkness fell over the quiet valley, Idris and Megan climbed the stairs to bed. Mrs. Evans had been overjoyed to welcome Abdul into her house earlier on, and as they sat on the bed and began to undress, Idris looked slyly at his wife.

"If I remember rightly, Blodwen Evans won't be slow in welcoming Abdul into her bed," he said. "Before I left for Egypt, Dic Evans was forever boasting about how much sex it took to satisfy his wife. And now he's gone, poor bugger. I bet Abdul will be getting his hole tonight!"

"He's not the only one, I hope," replied Megan. "You've been away for months, Idris Morgan, and my finger is a poor substitute for your lovely cock! I've missed you! So don't bother putting that night shirt on. Come here, you gorgeous man. I want you so badly. Show me you haven't forgotten how to fuck!"

And in the quiet terraced house in the quiet street on the side of the quiet valley, the only sounds that were to be heard in the Morgan household that night were the creaking of the bed springs and the ecstatic moans of Megan and Idris Morgan as he indeed proved to her several times that night, that he certainly hadn't forgotten how to fuck his wife.

Megan got up with her husband early the next morning. Whilst he washed and shaved before dressing in his mining clothes, she prepared his snap box for him to take down the pit. A tin box containing bread and jam sandwiches, a lump of cheese and a flask of cold tea would see him right through his eight hour shift underground.

Megan kissed her husband goodbye on the doorstep as he joined the throng of men who were walking to the pit. She saw Abdul amongst them, and waved to him.

"I'll have the bath ready in front if the fire for you by the time you come home," Megan told Idris, "and after supper, what about an early night? I could do with some more of what we got up to last night again tonight!"

"You brazen hussey!" smiled Idris, giving his wife another kiss. "You're going to wear me out! But it's a very nice way to go!" he added as he walked down the path to join the group of men, all of whom already knew that Idris Morgan was back in the village, and ready to start work again.

It was about eleven o'clock that same morning when the pit siren started to go off. Megan, who was in the middle of doing some washing that had come in earlier, froze. She knew exactly what the sound meant, and by the time she had dried her hands and grabbed her shawl before running out of the house, most of the women in the village were already on their way down to the pit head.

They gathered in silence as the first cage came up. Several uninjured men were supporting colleagues who couldn't stand up alone. A collective sigh went up as the cage door opened and the survivors staggered out into the cool damp day.

"What happened?" someone called and one of the men climbed onto an empty dram and addressed the crowd.

"It's another roof fall," he told them. "A bad one. It's in the two foot seam again. We've warned the pit owners that they're not giving us sufficient pit props. If they don't change their ways, and make this damn hell hole safer, we're coming out on strike!"

"Now if you'll excuse me," he continued, "me and the rest of the boys who managed to get out need to go and get some more picks and shovels and get back down there. Those poor buggers who are buried behind the roof fall haven't got much time before the air goes bad!"

Megan scanned the group of survivors. She couldn't see Idris or Abdul, and her heart sank. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see who it was.

"Alright, girl?" said Blodwen Evans. "Did you see Idris?"

Megan shook her head silently, and a couple of big fat tears slid down her cheeks.

"I couldn't see Abdul either," said Blodwen, her face wreathed with anxiety. "Bloody typical, isn't it? I finally get a lodger who knows exactly what I need, and he gets trapped underground! By damn I enjoyed myself last night! He might not be as tall as many of the men round here, but he certainly has got a lovely cock! What a waste if he doesn't come up alive."

Megan looked at her neighbour in disgust.

"Is that all you can think about?" she asked. "If my Idris comes out of there alive, I'll never worry if he never fucks me again! All I want is for him to come back to me safe and sound!"

But Idris never did come back to Megan. Together with thirty two other men, including Abdul, his body was eventually brought up to the surface three days later. It took a month for all the victims to be buried in the village cemetery, and the local chapel was full for days on end as funeral services took place one after the other.

It was the day of Idris's funeral, and Megan was about to leave the house for the chapel when she felt violently sick. She managed to get down the garden path to the toilet before vomiting into the pan. Having washed her face, she carried on to the chapel, and from there to the cemetery where she laid her beloved Idris to rest. The whole village turned out to support and comfort her.

She was sick the next morning too, and the following day. She made an appointment with Dr. Evans, the village GP, and was informed, after a very detailed examination, that she was pregnant.

The whole village rallied round, and by the time Megan delivered a healthy baby girl into the world, a community fund had been set up by a committee of working miners, and those who had lost husbands, brothers and fathers in the great pit disaster of '24 were being looked after by their friends and neighbours.

August 1995

Richard Simpson parked the car outside Martha Morgan's house, and turned off the engine. He looked at his wife, who was sitting in the passenger seat beside him, and smiled.

"Ready?" he asked. "It's been six weeks since your mother had her fall. Now that she's home from hospital, we need to see that she's settled back in her own home. Come on, let's not keep her waiting any longer."

Olwen Simpson undid her seat belt and sighed.

"You wanted mam to come and live with us after she'd had that fall," she said, taking Richard's hand and giving it a grateful squeeze, "but I've always said that she wouldn't approve of our lifestyle. I was right, especially now that we seem to be well in with the swinging set. Not a word to mam that we both fuck other people, mind! She won't understand, and I can do without having to explain our alternative style marriage to her today!"

"My lips are sealed," grinned Richard, "at least until tonight, anyway. And after tonight's party, I can't wait to reclaim you. I wonder who we will be fucking tonight?"

"Whoever it is, I promise you can have your cream pie after you've reclaimed me," replied Olwen, giving her husband a quick peck on the mouth.

"Now come on, let's go and see mam. And remember, not a word about swinging or fucking complete strangers!"

Olwen hung the strap of her tote bag over one shoulder and hand in hand she and Richard walked up the garden path to Martha's cottage. It was where she had been born, and where she'd lived for all of the seventy odd years of her life. She'd been married from here, and given birth to her only daughter, Olwen, in the tiny upstairs bedroom, twenty nine years ago.

Olwen and Richard opened the front door, which was unlocked, as usual. No-one in this village locked their front doors, because neighbours came and went as they pleased.

"Mam?" called Olwen as they went in, "it's only us. Are you ok?"

"I'm perfectly fine, cariad," (darling) replied Martha, emerging from the back kitchen into the living room. "Well let me look at you both. You look so happy, the pair of you! Married life certainly suits you. How long is it now?"

"Three years, Martha," smiled Richard, giving his mother-in-law a peck on the cheek. "Your lovely daughter has made an honest man out of me! You're looking good after your fall. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm alright, I suppose," replied Martha, sitting down in her rocking chair by the fire. "I miss Efan of course, but I've got good neighbours, and you both visit regularly."

She looked at Olwen and smiled mischievously.

"All I need now is some grandchildren to spoil before my time's up."

Olwen winked at her mother.

"Well, we're doing an awful lot of practise mam," she grinned. "I'm sure that you'll be a mam-gu (grandmother) before too very long!"

Martha looked at them both and smiled.

"Listen," she said, "I know how hard it is for a young married couple at the beginning. I've made up my mind. I have something I want to give you both before I go."

"Now Martha, there's no need," interrupted Richard. "You keep your money. We're both working, and we're managing very nicely, aren't we Olwen?"

Olwen nodded.

"And stop all this nonsense about dying, mam. You're as tough as old boots! You'll be around for years yet!"

Martha shook her head in annoyance.

"I'm not talking about money!" she said. "I'm talking about a family heirloom. I want you to get it valued for me, so that I can put it in my will and leave it in trust for my grandchildren."

Olwen looked at her mother. She knew exactly what she was referring to.