“Because they’ll kill us you idiot,” replied Logan. “Why don’t you give that big brain of yours a rest and let us do the thinking for you for a while.”
Felix, jogging in front of Logan, didn’t bother to reply.
The corridor descended for about 100 meters before dog legging a couple of times. It finished at a dead end.
“Now what?” asked Felix.
Ram Terry used his AI again to activate a trapdoor in the ceiling above them. “This leads to a back alley. We should be safe there as this exit is only known to myself and Mattock.”
“Does your presentiment tell you that?," asked Logan.
“No," replied Ram Terry. “Only my common sense.”
The two leading Shepherds grabbed the lip and hauled themselves up. They gave the all clear and the Overdrive was passed up. The Grand Shepherd went next, getting a leg up from one of his men. Ram Terry, surprising the non-Shepherds of the group, levitated himself through the hole.
Felix gave Crystal a surprised look. “Where did he learn to do that?”
“Another surprise side effect of the genetic tinkering," she said smugly.
“Anything else I should know about?”
“I’ll let the Holy One show you himself.”
Felix climbed up next, followed by a few more Shepherds and finally Crystal, Tarquin and Logan.
Logan had to pass his cannon up, being too heavy and unwieldy for one hand. Emerging at street level in a small alley, his AI reported that there were more people surrounding him than had gone up. His tactical graphics display immediately came on line, overlaying his normal vision. He was just reaching down for his cannon when he felt the nuzzle of a large weapon touch the back of his neck.
“Looking for this?”
Logan looked up. A tall winged figure stood above him holding his Afer easily in one hand.
Judging by his height and wing colorings, Logan thought he was looking at a Watcher Prince.
Asel smiled down at him. “Don’t you just hate it when everything goes pear shaped?”
◊
After disposing of the two Shepherds guarding the antechamber, Knights Captain Tynan made his way into the main audience chamber. It was empty.
“Shitfuckcunttitsarse,” he said, swearing loudly.
Furious, he fired his plasma cannon into the ceiling. Molten fragments rained down on his head, burning one of his ears.
“Fuck.”
Captain Zoltan and his five Martians were standing around looking at Tynan with what he assumed was amusement.
“Well, don’t just fucking stand there. They didn’t evaporate. There must be a back door around here somewhere. Find it.”
Five minutes searching turned up the door behind the tapestry.
One of the Martians walked through gun first. The unmistakable sound of a plasma weapon could be heard firing. The Martians headless corpse was thrown back through the door.
“Oh good grief. What next?” Tynan unbuckled a small crawler bomb from his belt. Activating it, he sent it scurrying into the room. The crawling explosive, self aware and programmed to find a warm body, latched itself onto one of the two Shepherds guarding the escape corridor and detonated. The Shepherds, unarmored, were shredded and died instantly.
Outside in the audience chamber, Tynan smiled grimly. The crawler bomb would have gone around in circles if it hadn’t found a warm body to attach to. He had calculated on the Shepherds not having armor.
He motioned for the other Martians to enter and then walked through. What had once been the escape tunnel out of Ram Terry’s personal quarters was now completely blocked by rubble.
“Oh for fuck’s sake. Can it get any worse?” He gestured angrily to the remaining Martians. “Back the other way.” They ran back out into the audience chamber.
Three figures were waiting for them.
“Hi there," Derek said brightly.
◊
Thinking that the presence of the local constabulary would be most welcome at a time like this, Felix tried to gain access to the net. There was still no response, and lacking other options considering the presence of a gun to his head, decided to wait.
He watched as Logan clambered out of the trapdoor which was set into street level of the small back alley. The Watcher Prince, if that’s what he was, calmly held Logan’s gun and forced him back against the wall with the others who were guarded by several Nephillim.
The Shepherds had been disarmed and now stood in a group surrounded by more heavily armed Nephillim.
“Okay," said Asel. “Which one’s Felix?”
Felix, seeing the subtle shake of Crystal’s head, kept his mouth shut. No one else volunteered.
“Right." He grabbed one of the Shepherds by the robe and held the Afer to his head. Asel felt a demonstration of his authority was in order after the debacle with Tarquin’s ship. The Shepherd, prepared to die for his cause and a hardnut from wayback, looked disinterested. The sweat he was rapidly producing on his brow belied this.
“I’ll count to three and if the mysterious Mr. Felix hasn’t stepped forward, I’ll fry this poor bastard here. One…”
Asel pulled the trigger.
An Afer, although designed to disrupt powerful fields such as those possessed by an upper echelon Angel, packed enough force to easily kill an unprotected human.
Asel laughed as he released the scorched and rather dead Shepherd. The body fell in a heap around his legs.
“Fucking hell," said a shaken Felix, “if you’d have given me another second, I would’ve told you. There was no need to kill him.”
The Watcher Prince smiled and shrugged. “I know. I just wanted to make sure the gun worked. And it does. How about that?”
He grabbed Felix about the neck and lifted him easily off the ground with one hand. “And this must be what all the fuss is about." He made a show of looking Felix up and down. “Don’t look like much, but hey, good things, I’m told, come in small packages. Speaking of which…” He looked directly at Felix’s groin. Glancing up, he gave Felix a wink.
“Fuck off.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Its about time we got off this rock.” He turned to his Nephillim, throwing Felix to two of the brawnier ones. “Get him, the sheep and the Overdrive back to the ship. Kill the rest.”
“What?," said Grand Shepherd Mattock. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
The others looked at the Grand Shepherd in horror.
Asel took a moment to savor the moment before speaking.
“Well, the deal’s changed. That’s what you get when you double-cross.”
“How could you?” said Ram Terry accusingly, staring at his former Grand Shepherd.
“Forgive me Holy One.” Mattock dropped to his knees and stared at his master beseechingly. “I did it for the good of the church.”
“Your negotiation skills aren’t too good there champ," said Logan.
Ram Terry, as far as sheep went, looked forlorn. “You were my friend and advisor. I trusted you.”
“I know, your Raminess. And I sought to repay your trust and friendship with a gift. I made a deal with the Watchers here. They said if I gave them the Overdrive, they’d support us against the Areopagites.”
“I’m sorry,” said Asel with mock sadness. “I lied.”
Mattock broke down and started sobbing around his masters hooves.
Asel sighed. “I was going to kill you as well, but you’re so pathetic, I think it’ll be more fun letting you live. As a matter of fact," he said thoughtfully, “I look forward to hearing about your former friends and allies hunting you down and killing you slowly. You can go.”
The Grand Shepherd looked doubtful.
“Yes,” said Asel, nodding encouragingly, “I do mean you.”
Mattock took one hesitant step, and with a growl of animal savagery, made a leap for Asel’s throat.
Too swiftly to follow, almost impossibly quickly by normal human standards, Asel caught the Grand Shepherd by t
he throat, twisted his neck and flung him against the wall to land in a crumpled heap.
Ram Terry made a small baaing sound.
Asel opened his mouth to say something witty but was forestalled by the sudden shaking of the ground and a blast of super heated air coming from the escape tunnel.
“What the fuck was that?” said one of the nearby Nephillim.
Asel glared at him. He’d stolen his line.
◊
Derek eyed the dispensing machine threateningly. “Give me a fucking hangover sniffer. Now.”
“I’m sorry sir," said the less than sorry sounding dispenser, “I am all out.”
The Polar Bear, less than impressed, head-butted the wall mounted unit. It made a small zzzing sound and didn’t reply. The display screen dimmed and went out.
“Well, that was helpful," said Bruce.
Derek rubbed his furry forehead. “I think it cleared my head though.”
“I hate to interrupt chaps, but we do have to get to the audience with Ram Terry.” Walter smiled more cheerfully than he felt. He’d lived in hope of a cure for a hangover which Derek had just dashed. The black eye he sported probably wasn’t helping the state of his head either.
After obtaining a release from the detainment centre, the two Transplanters and Walter had made their way towards the discotech that served as the audience chamber of Ram Terry IV. Just outside, Derek had spotted the generic dispensing machine.
“Shall we go in then," suggested Walter.
“Why not?," growled Derek. “We’re not going to get much more from this useless shithead machine.” He gave it a last kick before following Bruce and Walter into the disco.
“Bit empty isn’t it?," said Bruce. The place was empty.
Derek shrugged. “Maybe they ran out of beer.”
“According to our instructions, the entrance should be at the back.” Walter looked around finally spotting the unobtrusive door. “Ah, there we go.”
They made their way towards it. “Interesting," said Bruce.
“What?," said Derek.
“There’s no guard on the door. I would’ve thought their security would be a little better.”
“Perhaps they’re on a break,” offered Walter hopefully.
“Hmmm," grunted Bruce.
Bruce led the way and carefully opened the door. Finding the antechamber empty he gestured for the others to enter. The bodies of two Shepherds lay slumped against a wall.
“Looks like they took a permanent break," said Derek.
Bruce walked over to the far door, and after listening for a moment, opened it a fraction and peered within. Finding nothing to concern himself with, he opened it further and walked in. The other two followed him.
Walking into the middle of the audience chamber, they spotted the headless corpse of a Martian in a doorway at the far end of the room. Debris lay scattered around the body and wisps of smoke were leaking from the doorway.
Bruce was about to investigate when a Templar and four Martians jumped over the corpse and entered the audience chamber at a run.
Bruce and Derek recognized him immediately as the Templar Knights Captain they had run into on the Dirty Little Minx.
“Hi there,” said Derek.
The Templar and his Martian cohorts had come to a sudden halt about 10 meters away.
“Oi,” said Bruce. “Don’t I recognize you lot?," he said looking at Captain Zoltan. “Didn’t we save your green arses from being sucked off?”
Captain Zoltan looked away, embarrassed.
Tynan’s already foul mood wasn’t improving. “Look. We’re in a bit of a hurry. I don’t know who the fuck you are and why or how you keep getting in my way, but I’ve had just about enough of you.” He raised his cannon and looked at the Polar Bear. “I think I owe you this.”
“Wait," said Derek.
“Why?," said Tynan, about to pull the trigger. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve got lots of guns and you’ve got none.”
“Ah, that’s what you think. The reason I think you should wait is because I’ve got a bomb that will detonate if you shoot me.” He grinned. “That’s why.”
Tynan frowned and lowered his cannon slightly.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine. Pull the trigger then. Nice knowing you Bruce, Walter.”
Tynan’s head was rapidly filling with doubt.
“You see, I’ve programmed it to go off if I should I be shot.”
“When did you do that?”
“Just then.”
“What’s stopping me from hitting you with my gun or stabbing you?”
Derek’s grin grew broader. “I’d like to see you try.”
Tynan continued to hesitate.
Seeing this, Derek decided to capitalize on his advantage.
“I’ll tell you a little story, shall I?” Tynan didn’t reply so he continued. “After I became a Transplanter, I thought that I would never have children. Then I became a mercenary and realized that life is very fragile…”
“Is there a point to this?” Tynan said, struggling to keep his temper. Holding the cannon with one hand, he was surreptitiously trying to remove another crawler bomb from the belt behind his back.
“Getting there. If you’d shut up for a second, I might make it. Anyway, I realized that life is fragile and precious and that it would be remiss of me not to at least give myself the option of having children. To that end, I put one of my nads…”
“One of your what?," said Tynan. He’d reached the bomb but was struggling to detach it from his belt.
“Testicles," Bruce provided helpfully.
“I put one of my nads in storage should the opportunity ever arise for me to procreate. But that created a problem. What to replace it with? It would look a bit silly if I had an unbalanced plum sack now, wouldn’t it?” Derek went through the motions of looking thoughtful. “Oh that’s right,” he said looking Tynan dead in the eye. “I replaced it with a nova bomb.”
“It was a good job too," said Bruce. “Looks pretty natural.”
The others in the room looked at him strangely.
“What?," he said defensively. “It does.”
Tynan had detached the crawler from his belt and activated it with his AI. Derek saw the motion, judged the distance between himself and the Templar and told Bruce and Walter to run. Bruce picked Walter up, threw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and sprinted for the entrance.
Derek said his prayers, gave his nova bomb a three second delay – long enough, hopefully for Bruce and Walter to get out – and then charged towards Tynan. “I’m coming Mother," he roared.
The Knights Captain, realizing that the mercenary was unlikely to be bluffing about the nova bomb, threw his crawler up in the general direction of the charging Polar Bear and then ran into the adjoining room.
The Martians stood their ground, firing at the large Ursus Maritimus bearing down on them. Two shots struck him – one on the chest and the other on the leg, but they may as well have been rubber bands for all the effect they had.
Derek had just reached the first Martian and was in the process of tearing of its head when the crawler caught up with him, attached itself to his leg and prepared to detonate. It needn’t have bothered. A moment later, Derek’s nova bomb went off, incinerating his furry body and those of the remaining Martians.
A fire storm filled the room, roaring into both the antechamber and Ram Terry’s personal quarters.
Bruce had made it to the antechamber, ducked behind the wall and threw himself and Walter to the ground a moment before the detonation. A heat wave swept over them, singeing their clothes, Bruce’s fur and Walter’s hair.
Bruce stood, dragging Walter to his feet. For the first time he noticed five burning bodies dressed in the uniforms of Templar Knights lying on the floor. Five meters away from the door and directly in front of it, the blast wave would’ve hit them head on.
“You all right?," he asked the shaken man, patting
down bits of his clothes that were still on fire.
“Yes, I think so,” Walter said uncertainly. “What about Derek?”
“He’s dead," the Gorilla said flatly. “Let’s go.”
◊
Gabriella watched the Two Transplanters and Walter enter the antechamber.
“Who are they?” she asked Sammael.
“According to the reports, they helped Felix escape the Dirty Little Minx. Mercenaries. Slightly unstable, or so their files tell me. Nothing to worry about.”
“All the same, get some men down there now. Whatever that explosion was a minute ago, surely took out most of the resistance”
“Yes Princess.”
Sammael moved to instruct some of his Templars.
The explosion of Tynan’s first crawler bomb had cleared the disco a few minutes before the mercenaries had arrived, and while hopefully removing a few obstacles, was bound to attract a bit of unwanted attention.
Gabriella sighed. Yet more complications, she thought. The appearance of these mercenaries might be just enough to tip the balance in the Shepherds favor. She wasn’t about to take any chances, not when the Overdrive was within reach.
Sammael returned to her side and stood quietly.
“Are we still blocking their communication channels?”
“Yes Princess.”
“Good. Continue to do so.”
From her position on the mezzanine floor, she had a clear view of her Templars entering the antechamber. A moment later, another explosion rocked the building. A surge of flame appeared at the doorway, disappearing almost instantly.
“Nothing to worry about huh?” she said, giving Sammael an acid glance.
Sammael shrugged helplessly.
Activating their personal fields, the pair levitated down to the empty dance floor. One of the Transplanters – the Gorilla – and the portly middle aged man, ran out of the antechamber and headed for the main entrance. In their haste, they failed to notice the presence of the two Areopagite Angels. Sammael raised his hand to shoot a blast of energy but it was knocked aside by Gabriella. The blast hit the main bar, shattering glasses and setting fire to a couple of stools.
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