“Oh, I think you could twist my arm.”
◊
The Shepherds idea of keeping a low profile consisted of having the audience chamber of Ram Terry IV located in the back of a Discotech. Felix and Crystal were escorted through the crowded dance floor and shown into an antechamber guarded by two more Shepherds.
The chamber, although fairly large, was sparsely furnished. Paintings of what Felix could only assume were the previous Rams of the Church hung on the walls. All looked to Felix’s untrained eye like healthy specimens of Ramhood. Only two plain couches served any kind of seating requirement. One of them was filled with Logan and Tarquin. Two female shepherds stood nearby, talking quietly. All four looked worse for wear.
“Big night last night?,” Felix enquired innocently.
“You could say that," said Logan.
“Details?”
“Well, me and the Chocolate Avenger here hit a few dance floors with our lovely escorts. Our arms got twisted and we ended up drinking a few too many beers.”
Felix gave Crystal a surprised look. “You mean to say that the Holy Lamb allows you to get absolutely bolloxed?”
Crystal shrugged. “I’ll think you’ll find that as a religious organization, the Church of the Holy Lamb is quite tolerant.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Don’t get excited though. I’m not thinking of becoming a convert or anything.”
“Don’t worry,” said Crystal. “I’m not about to get excited.”
“Anyone seen Walter or the two mercenaries?” asked Tarquin.
Felix shook his head. “I thought they were with you?”
“Nope. We left them after we had our chat with the Grand Shepherd.”
“Speaking of which.” Crystal nudged Felix in the ribs.
A door on the far side of the antechamber opened to admit the Grand Shepherd. He was followed closely by two stout and wary looking Shepherds.
“Ram Terry IV will see you know," he said, smiling at the group. Mattock turned and gestured for them to go through.
The four of them entered to find themselves in an audience chamber. This chamber was no more ornate and about the same size as the antechamber. More paintings covered the walls. The overwhelming theme seemed to be scenes from happy farm life. The frolicking sheep appeared to be smiling. Even the farm dogs, featured in most of the paintings, seemed to be happy. Unconvincing, thought Felix, considering it looked like their charges were making a run for it.
The only concession to comfort was the addition of a green carpet on the floor and a thick tapestry covering the far wall. A low dais filled the far end of the chamber.
The Grand Shepherd sidled up to Crystal and whispered in her ear. He disappeared to one side and had a hurried conference with his two assistants.
Felix lent over. “What was that about?”
Crystal looked straight ahead and talked out of the corner of her mouth.
“Walter and the Transplanters got into a bit of trouble last night. Seems that Walter got a little bit drunk and abused the bouncers who wouldn’t let him in to a disco. Derek and Bruce settled the matter by head butting the bouncers. All three were arrested and thrown into a detention cell for the night. The Grand Shepherd is getting them released.”
“Well, well,” said Felix smiling. “Didn’t know Walter had it in him.”
The Shepherds in the room, including the Grand Shepherd, suddenly assumed quiet and humble postures. Crystal nudged Felix again. “Here he comes."
The tapestry was moved aside revealing a door. It opened, admitting four Shepherds carrying a palanquin. They set it down on the dais and stood respectively to one side.
A large Ram with curling horns and dressed in a green jacket hopped out, leaped off the dais and trotted towards the group.
“Sorry," he said, addressing the no one in particular. “Not one for ceremony. The boys here would rather have me on the dais but I reckon that’s a bit wanky.”
Ram Terry IV looked at Crystal. “Crystal. I’ve missed you. How’s my favorite girl?”
“All the better for seeing you.” She bent down and gave the Ram a hug, ignoring the frown she received from the Grand Shepherd.
“Likewise."
He turned his attention to Felix. “And this must be the man I’ve heard so much about.”
Felix inclined his head. “Crystal speaks very highly of you.”
“Surprisingly. She’s known me since I was a wee lamb. Don’t know how she put up with me. I was a bit, shall we say, rambuchous.”
“I’d almost say pain in the arse, your Holiness,” said a smiling Crystal.
Ram Terry showed his teeth in what Felix assumed was a smile. “That too. But I digress. I must thank you Felix, not just from me but from all our people and others who have been oppressed by those winged fiends. I know you have suffered a lot and we’ll try to make it up to you.”
Felix nodded. The Ram turned his attention to Logan and Tarquin. “I am also in your debt. If there is anything you desire within reason, it shall be yours.”
Both men bowed their heads slightly and chorused. “Thank you, your Holiness.”
His Holiness trotted over to the Grand Shepherd and engaged him in conversation.
Surprised at his friends, Felix raised his eyebrows in their direction.
Tarquin shrugged apologetically. “The girls showed us the correct response last night.”
“I’ll bet that’s not all they showed you.”
Logan grinned lecherously.
Two Shepherds left the room, returning shortly afterwards carrying a long metallic device between them which they set down on the floor. With a shock, Felix realized it was the Overdrive. It was something he thought he’d never see again.
His conversation with the Grand Shepherd complete, Ram Terry moved over to address the group again.
“As you can see, with the specs you sent us, we have built our own Overdrive. This is Mark II. The first one inexplicably melted down after its first test run.”
“Ah," said Felix, moving over to examine the fruit of 3 years of labor. He ran his hand over the Overdrive in what was almost a caress.
“We never got a chance to send you the modifications," said Felix. “Our first prototype melted as well. Took us a couple of weeks of adjustments to iron out all the bugs. Shouldn’t take me too long, just need a few tools.”
The Grand Shepherd beckoned to one of his men who ran out of the room.
A thought occurred to Felix. “How do I know," he said turning towards Ram Terry, “that you are the legitimate owners of Nebula Inc and the Overdrive?”
His AI reported the receipt of a data package. Opening it he found it contained the necessary documents confirming Novelle New Zealand’s ownership of Nebula Inc. There were also numerous articles and reports on Ram Terry and the Church of the Holy Lamb. Felix didn’t bother opening those.
“Satisfied?," asked the Grand Shepherd.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “That should do it.” He sent the relevant Overdrive files to Ram Terry.
The Shepherd returned carrying an armload of tools which he dropped at Felix’s feet. Felix, obviously as happy as a voyeur in a live sex show, began to tinker with the Overdrive. The Shepherd, watching closely, noted the modifications made.
Grand Shepherd Mattock walked over to Logan and Tarquin. “You’ll be happy to know that we’ve facilitated the release of your friends. They should be joining us shortly.”
“Cheers," said Tarquin.
“Well,” said Logan, casting an appraising glance at the two female Shepherds, “if our work is done here, I think a bit more R & R could be in order.” He turned to Tarquin. “Fancy a drink?”
“Yep.”
“Anyone else. Ladies? Your Holiness?”
Ram Terry decided to pass. The relief was evident on the face of the Grand Shepherd.
Shannon and Heather, the two Shepherds who Logan and Tarquin had gone out with the previous night, decided to accompany the
m. Logan noticed the two woman glance at the Grand Shepherd first, receiving an approving nod before assenting. Crystal said she’d stay with Felix until he’d finished and catch up with them later.
“Where shall we go then?” asked Tarquin.
“Check the local net for a list of bars," suggested Crystal.
There was a pause as Tarquin communicated with his AI. “That’s odd," said Tarquin.
Logan’s eyebrows rose. “What is?”
“My AI can’t get a net access.”
Logan tried with the same result. “Can anyone else access Fever’s net?”
All the Shepherds, including Crystal, answered in the negative.
“What are the chances of a complete net failure?," asked Logan.
Crystal looked concerned. “Nil. It hasn’t happened in over 500 years, especially in an asteroid of this size with multiple redundancies.”
Logan turned to Ram Terry. “Have you got any weapons here?”
“Yes of course. But why?”
“If we can’t access the local net, we’re being blocked and the only reason we’d be blocked is if someone didn’t want us to call help,” explained Tarquin.
“Meaning?” asked his Holiness.
“We’re about to have company.”
Chapter Seven
Five Nephillim, riding in a hired AG cart, made their way through the cavernous docking area of Fever’s spaceport. Instructed by the Nephillim Captain, it stopped a few meters away from the fish shaped Debacherous Weekend. They waited while another AG cart, its occupants seemingly intent on some errand and dressed in maintenance overalls, flew past.
“Open it," ordered the Captain.
One of the Nephillim had come equipped with an AG harness. While the rest of the Nephillim placed themselves around the hull, he activated his harness and rose to the level of the access hatch, quickly assessing the level of security. With the codelock matched to one from his AI’s encyclopedia, he brought the appropriate high-level burglar program on line and began the decoding process.
Thirty seconds later, the hatch was open and the access ramp had been extended to the ground. With wary glances, the other four Nephillim made their way inside, joining the fifth in the engineering section in the stern the ship.
They found themselves in a large chamber, mostly filled with a variety of machinery. The large Ion drives and its adjoining fuel tanks dominated the left and right sides of the chamber, dwarfing the relatively inconspicuous Slipdrive that filled the small space in between.
The Captain instructed a different Nephillim, one that had engineering experience, to incapacitate the Slipdrive. The device itself, considering what it did, was almost a disappointment. It was about 12 feet long by 2 high and covered by a coat of temperature retardant grey paint.
The Nephillim pulled out tools, mostly incomprehensible to the others, and removed the manual access panel. Some fresh scratch marks were evident around the panel.
“It looks like someone has been playing around with it," he reported to his Captain.
The Captain, bored with the assignment and somewhat resentful at having missed the action inside Fever, was in no mood for dithering.
“I don’t want problems, I want solutions. They probably did some recent maintenance on it. Bugger the thing up and then let’s get the fuck out of here,” she said.
The Nephillim sighed and returned to his work with a martyred look. It certainly looked like someone had been tinkering with the Slipdrive’s manual controls. He pulled out a small flat square from his pocket, attached it below the main panel, out of sight from casual inspection, and made a connection with the Slipdrive’s AI.
A twenty second countdown began.
Panicking, thinking he’d accidentally started the detonation sequence on his own bomb, he fired deactivation orders at it. The countdown continued. Unbeknownst to the engineer, the device planted by Captain Zoltan and his Martians was ironically the same model as the one the Nephillim were using. It was designed to come on line when the Slipdrive was activated. Unfortunately, the Nephillim’s attempt to gain access to the Slipdrive had initiated the countdown.
“Run," he said, taking his own advice and sprinting for the door. The other Nephillim cast confused looks at one another before deciding it was prudent to do the same. They got as far as the ramp when the explosion ripped through the ship.
Left untampered, the device planted by the Martians was sufficient to destroy the engineering section and leave the rest of the ship – and Felix – intact. The explosion sadly set off the small bomb planted by the Nephillim, effectively destroying the entire ship and setting off the variety of explosive devices, munitions and other illegal items stored in Tarquin’s hold.
Four of the Nephillim were instantly killed. One, the engineering genius, was sent flying through the air minus both arms and a leg. It was unlikely he would have survived at all had it not been for the battle armor he wore. He landed unconscious fifty feet away in a sprawling bloodied heap.
A nearby ship, just landed and filled with old age pensioners intent on kicking up their heels, rocked heavily on its AG. Flying shrapnel and superheated air hurled into the ship, knocking large jagged holes in its hull and igniting various fires. A group of pensioners, arguing over access rights to the luggage area were killed when a large piece of shrapnel flew through the side of the hull. Brightly colored, outdated clothing and tacky jewellery rained down on their dismembered bodies.
A group in a different section of the ship were playing gin.
“What was that?” asked one, watching his drink slosh in its glass.
His partner on the other side of the table blushed heavily.
“Sorry. I’ve got dreadful wind.”
◊
The Shepherds headquarters on Fever had been relatively easy to find. A few discrete inquiries, a bribe placed in the right hands and the odd veiled threat had the information literally flowing out.
Gabriella, Sammael and ten of her hardest Templars stood on the mezzanine floor of the discotech that served as the Shepherds headquarters on Fever. The position enabled her to gain an excellent view of anyone coming in and out of the audience chamber. She’d already watched as first Logan and Tarquin and then Felix and Crystal, the latter surrounded by Shepherds, had entered through the door at the back of the club.
It had been ten minutes since she’d seen any other activity. And then Knights Captain Tynan, surrounded by a group of armed and armored Martians had entered the disco.
After hearing that Metatron had assigned Simbiel and Tynan to retrieve the Overdrive, Gabriella had taken the liberty of looking up their respective files. Even out of uniform, she recognized the Knights Captain immediately. He was, of course, completely unaware of her presence on Fever. The Trireme he was on, according to official Areopagite reports, had arrived on Fever shortly before her. Fortunate considering her ship, the Valkyrie Blazing Trumpet, at 1km in length, wasn’t exactly inconspicuous in Fever’s spaceport.
Now it looked like Tynan was about to do her dirty work for her. All she had to do was step in after he had his hands on either Felix or the Overdrive, pull rank and take the prize off his hands. Later, of course, Knights Captain Tynan would have an unfortunate accident resulting in his untimely death and subsequent inability to divulge his version of the events on Fever to Metatron, Michael or any other member of the ruling council. Too bad, thought Gabriella. The lad was resourceful.
Almost as an after thought, she made a mental note to her AI, making sure the Martians would never return to New Mars.
◊
“No armor?," Logan asked hopefully.
The Grand Shepherd shrugged apologetically. “No. Sorry. A bit too bulky to smuggle in, even with our connections.”
“Bugger.” He adjusted his shoulder strap and ordered his AI to form a link to the heavy Afer cannon he was holding in his arms.
Around him, the other Shepherds were arming themselves and taking defensive positions around the
Grand Shepherd, Ram Terry IV and Felix. Tarquin and Crystal were checking their weapons, the former holding a large plasma cannon. Crystal managed to find a plasma pistol and a sword.
Felix gestured towards Crystal’s sword. “Do you know how to use that?”
“No, I’m planning on opening large envelopes with it. Of course I know how to use it. Fifteen years training actually.”
“Oh."
“Did any of you robed fellas happen to install a back door in this place," asked Tarquin.
“Yes of course," said Ram Terry. “There’s one built into the back of my personal chambers.”
“Excellent,” said Logan. “If its not too much trouble, I suggest we use it.”
Two of the Shepherds picked up the Overdrive and headed for the door covered by the Tapestry. The rest of the group followed. Two more Shepherds stayed behind to act as a rear guard. The Grand Shepherd looked worried. “I can’t make contact with the two men I stationed outside the door to the antechamber.”
“Its a fair bet they’re already toast then," said Logan.
Ram Terry’s personal quarters, like the rest of the Shepherds headquarters, was sparsely furnished. A small cot lay on the floor. Next to it, mounted low on the wall, were a food and water dispenser.
Ram Terry, obviously using his AI, opened a concealed door at the back of the room. It showed a long, poorly lit corridor. Two Shepherds led the way followed by the two carrying the Overdrive. Ram Terry trotted behind them. The Grand Shepherd and Felix were next. They were followed by other Shepherds, including Shannon and Heather. Logan, Tarquin and Crystal brought up the rear.
The corridor was quite low, forcing Tarquin to stoop. Hearing shots behind him, he stopped and turned.
“They’re in.”
“Yeah I know,” said Logan, jogging on. “Keep going. We’ve got to get Felix out.”
“Sod it,” said Felix. “I’ve had enough of this shit. Why don’t we just give them the fucking Overdrive and take our chances.”
Overdrive Page 17