Alistair sat dreamily in a quaint English garden, sipping tea from a fine china cup and saucer. Nothing short of idyllic, the air was sweet with the scent of freshly mown grass whilst robust county birds chirruped. A garden table was covered in a crocheted cloth and loaded with a fine array of silverware. Treats aplenty were on offer: cut sandwiches, layer cakes, iced sticky buns and an urn of English Breakfast tea. Alistair yawned and stretched contently before he helped himself to more pickled cucumber sandwiches.

"You pig," Chelsea said as he shoved the sandwich in his mouth and munched away happily. Perched on the edge of the wrought-iron garden table, Balderick flapped his bandaged wing as he nibbled at a plate of especially wriggly worms. Alistair wiped crumbs from his own chin with the back of his sleeve.

"Oh Alistair," Delilah sighed, embarrassed at his lack of etiquette. "You're in Charles III Gardens!!! Please don't act like a ravenous scavenger. I implore you to use your manners. Please!"

"Delilah," Alistair moaned, licking his lips as he reached for a custard tart.

"After what he's been through, I think we can let the children of the revolution relax a little," Julian countered. Delilah's mother hen cogs ground as she tried to pretend it didn't matter. Tentatively, Julian leaned forward and cut himself a slice of cream cake and began to eat it with a dainty fork. His pale face was shaded by a wide-brim sunhat and large flies-eyes sunglasses and the seat creaked as he shifted uncomfortably. Julian took delicate bites and winced as he swallowed. Thick layers of gauzing and bandages dressed his in-and-out bullet wound though befitting his dandy image, Julian had accessorised his bandages perfectly and even though he was on his way to healing, he was still miffed the medics who treated him had ruined his finest battle suit, cutting it from him with such recklessness.

The porter had positioned the jukebox exactly where Julian had wished and he raised the volume of the Wurlitzer, treating them to The Beatles Here Comes The Sun. Popping more painkillers and washing them down with a glass of Tizzer, Julian's medication had made him disagreeable and forgetful as he launched into his favourite diatribe once again.

"John Deacon, John Entwistle, John Paul Jones...geniuses all."

"That's a lot of Johns," Delilah noted.

"Yes, but no one...NO ONE...ever remembers the bassists! They're the backbone of groove," Julian cried.

"Mr Essex, what is a bassist?" Delilah asked, flummoxed.

"I'll pretend you didn't ask," Julian replied, resigned to being a one-man agitator for the rights and recognition for the plight of the chronically ignored.

"Jules, tell us something we don't already know?" Chelsea implored. As the patient and girl bickered - little had changed - Alistair gazed around the gardens feeling like he was in a cosy dream. He wondered when he would wake up, but of course, this was no dream.

"Earth to Alistair, d'ya wanna explore the garden maze?" Chelsea asked. "And we can sneak a peek at the ponds. I saw a row boat down there before."

"That sounds delightful," a regal lady's voice interposed as Julian hauled him self to attention.

"Ma'am," Julian said, in obvious discomfort as he tipped his hat, and the woman lifted her hand to politely wave away his gesture.

"Jules, what have I told you? Please, relax, don't do it...you know I'm not a fan of stuffy protocols," she smiled with embarrassment.

"Ha ha ha Lizzy."

"Quiet clearly the painkillers are making you misbehave. May I join you?" 

Delilah shot the children the evil eye, and they instantly hopped to their feet and stood for the Queen. Sir Richard and her handmaiden, Virginia Plain, accompanied Elizabeth and the porter carried over extra seats.

The Queen helped herself to a currant bun then peppered the children with questions about their adventures. She listened intently as Alistair and Chelsea told their tale, leaving out no small detail, enthusiastically recounting the Pleasuredome rescue, genuinely enthralling the Queen. Eventually, Elizabeth confessed to having viewed their gallant deeds on the Eye-Fi recordings but was no less impressed with the clarity of their own memories.

"Which reminds me. Sir Richard."

Sir Richard stepped up and deactivated their Eye-Fi.

"Time to get back to normal," Alistair supposed, blinking away the tickle in his corneas.

"Oh, I doubt that," Elizabeth winked. "Not around here anyway." Finishing her tea and placing the cup and saucer on the table she asked Alistair if he would like to join her for a stroll. Alistair was in no position to refuse and he stuffed a jam roly-poly in his mouth, horrifying Delilah, as the fabricant blushed in shame.

Together, the Queen and Alistair wandered down the garden path, in to a small cutting that led to a rambling courtyard and a pond, covered in a green scum with duckweed poking out and graceful swans paddling by. Elizabeth offered Alistair a seat on the wooden garden bench; sitting, Alistair was taken with her classic beauty, but he could see a brooding defiance just below the surface. She sat with her hands in her lap as he fidgeted nervously, flicking hair off his face.

"You remind me of my sons, Leo and Olly" she judged. "They're ragamuffins too. They're about your age and they need a good chum."

Alistair didn't know what to say but that was okay, Elizabeth did the talking for them both.

"I owe you a great debt, Alistair," she admitted. "Without your bravery and fortitude, I fear our plans would have most certainly gone awry. Along with your testimonial and Eye-Fi records, Capt Baker and Col Rose have given me a full report of the events leading up to Christmas Day. I must say, it does sound like an extraordinarily dangerous, not to mention dashing and daring tale. One thing I will say is Col Rose's men may have been a little too reckless with their Liquo calculations, which doesn't quite surprise me, but you're very lucky when all is said and done."

Alistair tried to feign indifference.

"I guess I was just doing my duty," he offered humbly. "It was my fault anyway."

The Queen contemplated his admission.

"Many people struggle with duty. It goes without saying that if you had not inspired the men to soldier on, perhaps all would have been lost. Quite rightly, many people will one day recognise your efforts in scratching the first chink in the Futurists' armour. You are already a hero in the eyes of some."

Alistair thought of Elvis and could not agree.

"I'm not a hero," Alistair countered. "Elvis is the hero. His hard work made victory possible. Julian was banged up pretty bad. And the Brigadier...he is a hero too, even if he was a hologram. Then there was Shadowplay and Snowblind and other brave soldiers who died in the fight. Robert Thompson sacrificed his life to get me out of a jam. So no, I don't think I'm a hero."

The Queen considered his humbleness.

"Alistair, a true hero continues on in the face of doubt and despair and loss. You my boy have saved the day."

Again Alistair shrugged.

"I was just trying to..." Alistair paused. "I don't know what I was trying to do actually. At the end of the day, I caused the mess. And I couldn't save Alice Mould," he admitted. "Or your crown."

"All things must pass. I saw the Eye-Fi...Alice Mould chose her fate. We must try to forgive others, even those who perpetrate vile acts and posses black hearts. It may not be right, but many have seen her passing as the toppling of tyranny. As for the crown, it is a symbolic token," the Queen smiled. "And it can be replaced. If truth be known, I am uncomfortable with pomp and ceremony. I just want to be me,"

"But you're the Queen," Alistair exclaimed and the Queen chuckled.

"Airs and graces are not what I am about," she revealed. "I am a wife and mother. I am a woman of the world and a member of the human race before anything else. I want freedom and justice served. If being the Queen opens doors and inspires others to share my principles and mission to unshackle people from tyranny then so be it."

"However, I do not seek platitudes or reward. As grateful as I am, the crown is not important. The monarchy is not important. You...you are important. The safety and prosperity of all people is paramount."

"One must rule with their heart and live with their conscience. That is something worth remembering Alistair. Goodness knows I've made plenty of mistakes in my time. Mistakes are evidence we are trying and errors of judgment can happen to the best of us. Learn from your mistakes Alistair, and grow with confidence."

Alistair realised she was much kinder than he thought she would be.

"You certainly inspire me to be a better person," Alistair admitted then stuck out his hand. "Can we be friends?"

The Queen's face softened as she held out her hand whereas Alistair clasped and shook it.

"Friends," the Queen confirmed. "Right to the end."

Sealing their pact with a broad grin and a firm handshake, they eased off the bench and strolled around the pond. Reaching a fork in the path, Queen Elizabeth III showed Alistair a small gadget.

"Julian tells me you're somewhat fond of classical music," the Queen noted as Alistair accepted her gift with a thank you. "This is the latest in high-end audio-tech developed by Morris Hamley and he's pre-loaded it with all my favourite tunes. Some amazing songs on there. Truly, amazing."

"For real?!" Alistair exclaimed, taking the gadget. "Wow! This is tops!"

"You're welcome to peruse my personal collection anytime," the Queen offered, "though I'm sure it's not half as good as Julian's."

"Thanks," said Alistair giddily.

"I have a feeling things will never be the same," Elizabeth supposed as they came to the end of their stroll. "It was lovely to make your acquaintance Alistair Raven. Be sure to visit me from time to time so we can chat."

Elizabeth departed following a pathway that lead out of the gardens, and back to official duties whilst Alistair skipped up the alternate path that brought him back out to the periphery of the garden where a giant window gifted him a breathtaking view. With warm sun on his face, he plugged in the earphones and lent against a railing. Pressing play, the sound of guitars kicked in and a man's aggressive vocals belched with bile. Alistair read the song title on the display - God Save the Queen - and began to bop his head along in time with the thrashing drumbeat.

Whilst the brevity of the incendiary song roared in his ears, Alistair was full of excitement, for he was aboard the giant flagship HMS Britannia.  The ship was bigger, better and far more thrilling than any airship Alistair could have ever dreamed of escaping New London upon. Viewing his new world from a viewing deck at the edge of the garden, he saw the Saskatoon tethered below, dwarfed on the HMS Britannia's decking. Waves of Royal Air Force fighters ran manoeuvres; a fleet of frigates and battle cruisers of Her Majesty's Navy soared above the clouds, sailing alongside the HMS Britannia. And the Queen had been most correct: the song was amazing and things would never be the same again.

From the treetops, Balderick flew over and settled on his shoulder and the irony of the punk song was not lost on Alistair, the final lyrics ringing in his ears: there's no future, no future for youuuuuuu... Removing the earbuds, Alistair sighed contently as his new friends joined him at the viewing window and Delilah fought an impulse to comb his hair. Julian watched sailors toiling on the decks whilst Chelsea nudged Alistair in the hip with her elbow.

"Hey, if you thought Christmas was exciting, you should see what they have planned for New Year's!"

He smiled. It had been a Christmas to remember and now, having waited a lifetime to escape, Alistair was not disappointed. He decided on the spot that there was a future, a future that included him exploring every last corner of this exciting brave new world. And now that he had seen the unfiltered sun, having it warm his cheeks, he decided, he never wanted to see it set upon him again.