by Vance Huxley
“You just fancy a bath, maybe with a Diva to wash your back.” Magpie grinned. “My back is lovely and clean.”
“Do we let them know about Magpie? Seeing her with Hood, or with her longer hair and no makeup to look unshaven, its bledrin obvious really.” Bobby grinned at her. “If they’re serious about us killing their Super we could use you to do it?”
“No!” Mickey sighed. “Sorry, but I get twitchy when you start on about topping Supers. Though if it turns out he’s a problem, and Les Putes aren’t against it?” Mickey shook his head. “I’m corrupted.”
“A realist.” Bobby laughed. “He might get used to the idea of having allies. I’ll be dealing with that Fleur so I might find out if they really will care if you or Magpie tops him. He sent Red to open that door so I can see why she might not cry if he carks it.” He nodded towards Magpie. “Try not to talk to them. Put on the makeup to look a bit unshaven and pull up the neck seal on the suit to disguise your hair. Even if our hair has grown the same, yours makes you look womanish.” Bobby smiled. “No kissing and hand holding in front of them.” Magpie produced a magnificent pout that would have showed the Putes exactly what she was, then agreed but kissed Hood while she could.
They beat it around and around for a while, then sucked a reduced food ration. Everyone agreed the Putes didn’t need to know about the bridge, or that Mickey had been in contact with Aggie and there would be no food on the capsule. If the Frog capsule had been badly damaged their Super wouldn’t be able to report so they couldn’t get extras from the rocket. Since the Basteds now knew the Rangers were killing off the opposition, Siflis stayed by the ladders as a guard. He did so from the doorway, so he could watch the corridor towards the Putes as well.
* * *
The rest went to inspect the two locked doors again. Once again everything short of physical violence had no effect at all. By the time they’d tried every idea on both doors, including some attempts at levering them open, Siflis called out for Bobby. Fleur stood in the middle of the corridor, arms outstretched and hands open.
Bobby beckoned, and she walked slowly forward with her arms open. She turned round to show there were no extras this time, just a laser pistol and a knife on her belt. Bobby waved her forward again. “There are more bins in here.”
“Water first? Show me the water.” Bobby took her into the washroom or bog and filled a dog bowl, then drank. Fleur drank a little, then more, and lowered the bowl with a huge smile. That disappeared as Mickey started to come into the room. “Non! Just one.”
Bobby waved him back outside. “Why?”
Fleur didn’t have a hint of humour or mischief in her eyes or voice. “Pooching will hurt too much now. Your Troopers haven’t had a Diva for long time.” A hint of her smile showed. “Maybe I can get away from one of you, or make enough noise so the rest know why you want us.”
“I’d only want a souvenir just now, though I don’t know how long that will last?” Bobby grinned. “Bells might put up with a bit of pain.”
“I will warn Ecarlate.” Fleur looked round. “Will one of your men take water back so that everyone knows? We are very worried about water. We found no food in la capsule, and the Allemande laser let the water out.” She sighed. “We open la huche, a bin, but there wasn’t any water or any other liquid in them.”
“What’s in them?”
“I will show you, once we have water. Our Super didn’t let us drink before leaving the capsule, to save the water for later. Then the laser let it all out into space. We’ve been rationing water, but now everyone is thirsty and getting worried.”
“Once we get out of this room I’ll send Hood in to fill a couple of bowls. You can come and get more, one at a time. You can keep a bowl.” Bobby pointed. “Don’t use the end one.” He didn’t tell her they used it as a toilet, because a woman trying to strip and do the same might be too much for Bells’s self-control. He didn’t have much. Bobby called to Hood and explained, before leaving him to organise water deliveries. Bobby took Fleur into a room full of bins. “This I’ve got to see.”
Fleur laughed. “We tried to burn the doors open but it doesn’t work. We tried burning out the controls, and found if we got them really hot the doors opened. We used the trick on the bins, but they didn’t open.” Fleur smiled. “We used the same laser each time to keep the rest fully charged until it ran down.” She took out her laser and turned it down, showing Bobby as she did. “The next bin only got a little bit warm but we tried it anyway.” Fleur played the beam on a bin lock for a few moments then slid the little bulge up and pulled up the lid. “Open it while the lock is warm, or it will lock again. Doors work the same way, but must be much hotter and won’t close unless they’re heated again.” She pulled out a container and unscrewed it, the opposite way to the usual. “This is new.”
The black granules looked like black sand to Bobby. “Stop flickin me. What did you find in your bins?”
Fleur’s smile blazed out. “Food.” She leant forward and kissed Bobby gently on the cheek. “Lots of food. You saved us outside, from the Allemande laser, you saved Ecarlate, and you found us water. A life for a life, now we have given you plenty of food for Beebi Basted’s.” The mischief showed briefly. “Now we should find a bath. I could wash your back to thank you properly?”
Bobby grinned and shook his head. “Are you Divas or Troopers? You looked a lot more dangerous in training than any Diva I ever met, but then you start kissing.” She really had confused Bobby because that wasn’t a Diva kiss, but it sure as hell wasn’t anything a bledrin Trooper would do!
“That kiss? You only kiss Divas? You haven’t had an amie, girl?” Fleur seemed puzzled, then the mischief came back. “If we are allies, maybe I should teach you the difference?”
Bobby laughed. “French kissing? I know about that.”
Fleur laughed as well. “I will show you amie kissing, not French kissing. It’s not for Divas. I forgot there are no women in your Troopers. Units like us are all women Troopers, except our officers.” Her smile became less happy. “The rest of our Troopers call us chiennes, bitches. We kill a few now and then, the ones who try to treat us like Divas, to remind the rest we are not.” She smiled at Bobby’s puzzled look. “I will explain later.”
“That should be fun.” Bobby really couldn’t quite get it. They were Les Putes which he knew meant Divas, but killed who, Frog Troopers? So they weren’t Divas. But their Sarge was the Super’s poochy-girl? That would be some explanation. “You’d better get back or they’ll think I’ve kidnapped you.”
Fleur looked disgusted. “The Super will not care as long as he gets water. He would order us to pooch you for water if that’s what you wanted. Morceau de merde! Piece of shit!” She stopped and took a breath. “Je suis desole, I am sorry. Will you let me explain another time? Just now I feel much too happy, because with water we will to live.” Her grin came back. “On top of that we are joining with Beebi’s Basteds to kill the Rangers.”
“I can live with that.” Bobby hesitated. “Do you want to look in these bins, or get back and check the others?” He shrugged. “Or tell me what food looks like?”
“Some bins are cold inside and contain raw meat, and other things. Baiser, the blonde, ate a little of the meat raw and had no trouble, no bad belly. The Super used up more laser to cook his.” She looked at her laser.
Beebi realised they must have used up quite a bit of charge if they also opened doors with lasers. “I’ll use mine to open the bins. What about other food?” Bobby reset his laser and warmed the next bin lock.
“That’s enough.” Bobby stopped and sure enough the bin opened. “We only tried a few. Each one of us tried something different, something that might be food, then we waited. One made Pepee sick. Those were blue flakes, cereale?” Fleur looked in the bin. “We didn’t try any of these. Another?” Three bins down she pounced. “These. I ate these.” She bit the end off a light brown stick. “Not fromage, cheese, but close. Maybe from an extraterrestre c
ow?” She pointed. “You can eat those, and these. Then try some others.”
Bobby tried the stick and it tasted like strong cheese, but not quite right. Good enough for his first real meal in six months. He grinned. “I feel really happy with these right now. This bin will do until I organise some tasting to try the rest.” On impulse he tried out one of those gentle kisses on her cheek. “Ammee kiss? For the food.”
“Amie, yes. If you let me go back now we will eat and drink, and rest. The Super will let me come and talk again, to work out how to kill the Rangers. He likes the Rangers less than the UKs.” Bobby escorted her back to the last junction, chewing a food stick and passing a few to Siflis and Mickey on the way. Then he explained food to the rest, and that Fleur at least had a real thing about killing Rangers. After opening more bins Bobby found a cold one with meat, though the outside temperature gave no hint. The meat tasted pretty good raw but nobody ate much because as Mickey reminded them, their stomachs had only taken in liquid for six months.
* * *
Mickey used his laser for warming bin locks to keep the charges in the rest. The rest of the day passed in opening bins and moving recognisable food towards their rooms, though some meat bins were allowed to relock themselves rather than spoil. One whole stack of bins remained sealed in case the food spoiled once the lock had been opened. There were sheets of cloth in some, and substances without smell or smelling disgusting. Others held blocks of unidentifiable metals and softer materials, and a few held what might be electrical components.
Bobby had two more meetings with Fleur, and again she preferred to stay one on one. Now he wasn’t sure if she preferred to get him alone to sucker him with those smiles and ammee kisses, or if Fleur still thought the Basteds might want a pooching party.
While discussing the chain of command, it became clear that Fleur’s supervisor would be a major problem. Fleur had to take every decision back to him, and in combat he would insist on commanding Les Putes. Fleur warned he’d already caused one death and wasted a weapon. The Super had insisted on launching the rocket at the Kraut capsule as retaliation for the property damage to his, even though the Krauts were all dead by then.
Then, once inside the spaceship, after exploring for hours, the Putes had found the Amazon with five extra legs and two spare backpacks. He’d already been negotiating with the Rangers. The Frog Super had offered to take him in, then threatened to shoot when the man didn’t agree to surrender there and then without any further negotiation. The Amazon ran down a corridor towards the Rangers. They might have thought he was attacking, because the Rangers shot him down. Fleur’s Super insisted that Aigu, the scout, retrieved some of the Amazon’s extra gear, and even threatened her with his shotgun when she said it would be suicide.
Aigu used a doorway to get nearer, getting inside before the Rangers realised she could open the door. Then she’d thrown her rope with a loop, trying to hook some gear. She’d hooked a pack, but as she pulled it back the Rangers sprang their trap. Suddenly the Shiva’s fired on the Putes from a side corridor. The Frog Super ordered a retreat. He wouldn’t allow them to lay down covering fire first for Aigu. The Rangers had been waiting when she ran, hitting her with a storm of flechettes and maybe some sort of solid shot. Ecarlate and Fleur had been hit on the retreat, Fleur claimed because the Super wouldn’t let them make a fighting withdrawal. He’d run away and ordered the rest to follow. By then Bobby had his arm round Fleur and really believed at least two Putes, her and Ecarlate, Red, would celebrate if their Super carked it.
* * *
By the following ‘morning’ Bobby felt sure another Pute would be happy to top their Super. The Basteds all heard the cries of pain in the night. During their morning meeting, Bobby had to ask why. “La bitte, dick, he wanted some poochy. Pepee is still sore, we all are, so he chose Baiser, the blonde.” Fleur had lost her smoother Anglic, and seemed torn between fear and anger. “He says we will all have to take turns until Pepee feels better and we can’t stop him. We expected to kill him quickly, at the start, but Pepee is frightened of this place and dying out here in space. She thinks we will be deserted out here if we kill the Super, so she watches his back.” Fleur shuddered and hugged herself tightly.
Bobby mentally shrugged. He could fix this if the Frog dick liked pooching and it should strengthen the alliance. “If your Super goes to see Magpie, privately, will Pepee go?”
“He won’t go to a private meeting. Why would he?”
“You understand spook?” Fleur nodded. “Our spook will ask to see him about contacting home. If something happens to your Super, make sure Pepee doesn’t kill Magpie afterwards.”
“The Super is not stupid. If he agrees to a meeting without Pepee, he will keep his shotgun pointed at your Magpie.” Now she’d started thinking, not reacting, Fleur’s Anglic picked up again.
Bobby laughed, but it had no humour. “Don’t worry about that part.” Then Bobby refused to explain, because he didn’t want any hint or change of attitude warning anyone. He had a quick word with Hood and Magpie about the cries in the night. By the time he’d finished Magpie’s sleeve knife had slid into her hand and she had that dead-eyed look. The one she’d had just before she set into the drug dealer. The Frog Super was dead; it just hadn’t caught up to him yet.
Though before dealing with the Frog Super, Bobby had to meet Mickey to try the lock-warming on the two big doors. Mickey hadn’t reported to Aggie last night because he didn’t want the Frog Super involved, especially since the Frog refused to talk to him. Beebi wondered if maybe Mickey didn’t want to tell the arses in Control that Beebi’s Basteds would be alive and well when the reinforcements arrived. After all, they didn’t need the sodin mothership’s supplies now so it wasn’t essential that they kept reporting.
Bobby had just decided to say nothing to Mickey about topping Supers when the tapper on his leg rapped four times. Siflis! Bobby scooped up his carbin and space helmet as he ran through the central area then paused. “Bells, bring that Kraut notsi. Hood, tell the Putes we’ve got someone coming at the other end, then bring that rifle thing and your carbin. Magpie stays on the ladders.” Bobby started running again.
* * *
Siflis beckoned from the last door before the junction, speaking quietly as soon as Bobby came near enough. “When the yellow lights started I heard voices. I think Anglic.”
“The Rangers. Move along the other wall towards the doorway so you can see down the corridor without putting your head out. If you see anyone they’ll see you, but we’ll have to talk to them sometime.” Siflis nodded, crossing to the blank wall, the one nearest the laser-guarded doorway, before inching along sideways with his carbin ready.
Mickey arrived and Bobby brought him up to date. Mickey agreed. “At least we’ve got a good position here with a fall-back on that central balcony. From there we can still cover the ladders.”
Bobby gestured at the room behind them. “But it’ll give them food unless we close the bins. If they haven’t worked out how to open those, we’d be better keeping it that way. They’ll get desperate even with extra food from the Amazon and Aigu’s pack, especially if they’ve got the happy news from the capsule. Desperate might mean careless.” He looked back up the corridor. “Where are the Putes?”
“Fleur came with a message. He’s keeping them there in case this is a diversion.” Mickey went to spit and then swallowed. “He could have sent a couple of the Troopers even if he’s too frightened. Basted!” Bobby didn’t mention a certain Timer Super who hid in a back room during an assault.
“If the Rangers and Shivas are combined, we could do with one more carbin here at least. We’ve got a good position because they can’t use that doorway for cover or the lasers will nail them, but they might have the numbers for a rush. Shite!” Siflis had thrown himself backwards as carbin flechettes rattled off the passage wall and ricocheted down the corridor towards Bobby and the rest. Siflis darted forward, loosed off a long burst, then dived back again.
&
nbsp; Mickey picked up a spent flechette, inspecting the blunted, squashed plastic. “I wondered about bouncing these down that corridor, but look at what the wall does to the plastic.”
“Beebi?” Bells sounded tentative. He brandished the Kraut automatic. “The rounds are smaller, but the plastic is tougher? I don’t think the Homers back at base realised that when they adapted my notsi. Maybe these will still cause damage to the faceplates at least.”
“Or heads if they’re not in a helmet. Try it but be careful. If you get killed, I’ll give you a kicking.” Bobby grinned as Bells stuck a finger up in reply. A couple of minutes later Bells opened up with the familiar tearing noise though he didn’t get as far down the passage as Siflis had. The Rangers had been creeping closer. The cries of alarm and pain from round the corner cheered them all up.
Mickey laughed. “That should back them off a bit.”
Bobby shook his head. “No, they’ll creep up this side and stick a carbin round the corner, because now we all know those door lasers won’t join in when we start firing. After how the one at the other end reacted, we’d been relying on that. Siflis, get to the end of our corridor sharpish and stick that Kraut round the corner. Give them a full clip spread all over the place, then take a peek with your little mirror while they’re ducking. Report with hand signals.”
“It’ll do that anyway, spray all over.” Bells sighed before reluctantly handing the little automatic to Siflis with three clips. “I’ve only got ten more so go steady.”
Siflis laughed because Bells usually let off complete clips anyway, then the scout ran towards the corner. Moments later the long ripping sound signalled another hundred plastic rounds going downrange. Bobby watched as Siflis put the weapon down before pushing his mirror on a stick forward. The scout’s other hand started signalling and Bobby translated the shorthand for Mickey. “At least seven so it’s no diversion. A couple are being patched. They’ve pulled bins out of a room to use as cover, and now they’re bringing more. About twenty-five to thirty metres away.” The signals stopped as flechettes rattled off the corridor wall and floor and Siflis pulled his mirror in. He kept putting it back out for a quick look, but each time a carbin tried to hit it.