Horatio lit up and his men, after waiting for their leader, did likewise, standing around in small groups and talking in quiet undertones.
Ram Terry, who had been to Gitane before, looked nonplussed by this behavior and settled more comfortably into his palanquin. Crystal caught Felix’s eye and struggled not to laugh after seeing the expression of disbelief on his face. Logan couldn’t have been happier. He’d joined one of the groups of Shepherds and was happily puffing away.
“Right," said Horatio, dumping his cigarette on the ground and grinding it into the plasticrete surface. “Shall we move on your Raminess?”
Ram Terry, who was starting to doze off in the heat, gestured his acquiescence. A group of Shepherds moved forward to pick up his palanquin, but stopped and gathered protectively around Ram Terry and Horatio when they spotted another AG truck moving towards them.
The truck pulled up next to them and another group of Shepherds disembarked, pulling out plasma charged staves, quickly surrounding their fellows. Horatio stepped forward and addressed one the Shepherds.
“What’s the meaning of this Tardieu?."
A tall, thin Shepherd pulled down his hood to reveal a middle aged Shepherd with a large broken nose.
“That’s Assistant Flock Master Tardieu to you," he replied with a sneer. “Soon to be Flock Master Tardieu.” He pulled out a cigarette, lit it and with the other hand pulled out a large plasma pistol that he aimed at Horatio’s chubby face.
Ram Terry stood up. “Tardieu, do you know who I am?”
Tardieu smiled ingratiatingly. “Of course your Raminess.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“I’m saving you your Raminess," he said knowingly.
“Yes, that’s very good. But who exactly are you saving me from?”
“Yourself," he said, puffing nervously on his cigarette. “The Areopagites have promised to spare you and make a substantial donation if we hand over something called the Overdrive. They also said that Horatio was a traitor and was planning on kidnapping you.”
“That’s preposterous," said Horatio. “A blatant lie." He turned beseechingly towards Ram Terry.
“That’s alright Horatio," said Ram Terry. “I believe you.” He turned to Tardieu.
“Now then, young man, kindly put away your weapons and return to the temple.”
Tardieu had another nervous puff of his cigarette.
“I can’t do that your Raminess. I have to escort you to the ship, rendezvous with someone called Princess Gabriella and give her the Overdrive device. If I don’t, she said she’ll kill you and nuke the planet from orbit.”
He glanced at Horatio and made a significant gesture with his pistol.
“Take us to the ship Horatio."
Horatio shot a glance at Ram Terry who nodded somewhat reluctantly. The Holy Ram was disturbed but not wholly surprised by the Areopagite’s resourcefulness.
The palanquin carriers resumed their positions and the whole party was forced into the truck by Tardieu’s truncheon carrying Shepherds. One of the Shepherds relieved Crystal of her sword before foolishly trying to prod her with his stave. Without appearing to move, she unarmed him, swept his legs out and calmly picked up the stave from the ground. More of Tardieu’s Shepherds moved in on her, staves at the ready.
“I wouldn’t if I were you," said Ram Terry mildly. Tardieu glanced at his Raminess, pausing to consider the dark haired woman with a calculating gaze. He gave a quick shake of his head. His men backed off and Crystal, with an elegant flick of her hair and a sly grin, jumped up onto the truck.
Tardieu’s men entered last and the AG truck set off for the far side of the spaceport. Logan, wise in the ways of counter espionage, was at a loss to see how the Shepherds failed to notice that he, Crystal, Ram Terry and Felix all communicating through their AI’s.
The truck sped through the spaceport at faster than recommended speeds, testified by numerous near misses with docking cradles. At one point the truck was nearly crushed by an incoming 700 meter long cargo freighter. Efforts by the Flock Master to talk his erstwhile former assistant and colleague out of his ill advised kidnapping failed, due largely to Horatio having his mouth taped shut. Conversation, as a result, was reduced to worried muttering amongst the various contingents of Shepherds.
After 10 minutes, the AG truck finally reached the far side of the spaceport. A sleek, shark like starship, 40 meters long and 10 in diameter, rested in a docking cradle before them. Three large Ion thrusters jutted from the rear of the matt black ship, giving the impression of predatory speed and strength. Logan, despite the predicament they were in, couldn’t help but nod in approval.
The group was herded out of the truck by Tardieu’s Shepherds. Horatio’s men were gathered into a separate group and placed under heavy guard while Tardieu led the others towards the ship. He stopped some meters short and turned to face his prisoners, taking pains to ensure he was well out of reach of Crystal. His men spread around the group with staves at the ready.
“Ok," he said. “Slight change of plan. We head up to orbit, grab the Overdrive and hand it and Ram Terry over to the Areopagites.”
“What?," said the combined voices of the prisoners before him.
“Its simple," said Tardieu, addressing Ram Terry almost apologetically. “With yourself out of the picture, the Areopagites have promised to make me head of the Church of the Holy Ram.”
“But that’s impossible," spluttered Horatio. “You have to be a Ram."
Tardieu smiled. “Easily arranged. You’ve all heard of transplanters haven’t you?. I’ll just take his place without anyone noticing."
He turned his gaze on Horatio. “Thanks for the helpful advice Flock Master. I appreciate it.”
He brought his pistol up, aimed it at Horatio’s head and fired. The Flock Master’s head disappeared in a cloud of gore, splattering those next to him. His body toppled over with an audible thump. Tardieu looked dispassionately down at the headless corpse.
“However, your services are no longer required.”
He turned his attention towards the others with the grin. “The same goes for the rest of you…” He glanced down and for the first time noticed that there was a banana at his feet. He picked it up and looked at it with some confusion. “I’m sure this wasn’t here before.” He shrugged and let it fall to the ground.
When activated, the tattoo bomb was entirely programmable, capable of shaping its detonation to suit the needs of its user. Logan, through the use of his AI, had instructed the device to use its lowest detonation sequence, blowing most of the plasma charge upwards and away from himself. Secondary instructions gave the device relative positions of other hostiles in the immediate vicinity. The subsequent blast, combined with small pieces of charred Tardieu, knocked most of the traitorous Shepherds off their feet. Felix, who had been forewarned by Logan’s AI, had hit the ground just before the banana went off.
Logan had already regained his feet, armed himself with a stave and was enthusiastically taking on three Shepherds who were still standing. Crystal and Ram Terry had not bothered ducking. Instead, they both activated their fields, shielding them from the effects of the blastwave. Crystal liberated her sword from one of the unconscious Shepherds and stood protectively over Ram Terry and Felix.
“Logan," she shouted.
Logan, busily caving in his last Shepherds head, looked over.
“Don’t worry about that. Get to the ship.” Logan nodded, gave the already unconscious Shepherd he was dealing with another blow for good measure and sprinted for the ship’s ramp. Her blue nimbus still glowing, Crystal helped Felix up with one hand, ignoring two timid blows from a disheartened Shepherd that bounced harmlessly off her field. Some meters away, Horatio’s Shepherds were struggling with their traitorous armed brethren.
“Are you alright?," she asked the still stunned Felix.” He nodded.
“Good," she said. “Take Ram Terry and join Logan on the ship. Get her prepped to fly and I’ll jo
in you shortly.”
“Where are you going?” asked Felix.
She smiled grimly. “To rescue Horatio’s loyalists. While I’m at it, I think these others could do with some lessons on loyalty.” With one fluid motion, she grabbed the stave off her attacker and effortlessly reversed it, slamming the plasma charged device into the Shepherd. The charge went off with a flash, poleaxing the hapless Shepherd. “Starting with this one.”
◊
Knights Captain Tynan smoothed his robe down and stood as the door slid open. Two armed troopers entered the small holding cell and took up positions next to the door. They stood to attention as a Gitanian officer sauntered in, indicating with a gesture that Tynan should resume his seat.
The cell in which Tynan had been detained and kept waiting in for some time was a small square with white walls. The only furnishings were 2 small chairs, one of which Tynan was currently occupying. The officer – his insignia indicating the rank of Commander – took the chair opposite, lit up a cigarette and stared intently at his prisoner.
Following the destruction of his ship, the bridge of the Divine Retribution had drifted closer and closer to the nearby PDS station. Finally the alert was downgraded from a red to yellow and the station had dispatched one its attendant frigates to intercept and retrieve the object. The tiny bridge was subsequently boarded and Tynan and his bridge crew were arrested and brought back to the PDS station for questioning.
During the time Tynan had been kept waiting he had prepared for his imminent interrogation. He had gone over possible lines of questioning and his most probable and believable responses. He felt sure he knew what they would ask and was confident that they wouldn’t extract any delicate information from him. In fact he was positive. Adamant even. No way. There was nothing they could do to coerce the information out of him. If Gabriella found out that the Gitanians had got any information regarding the Overdrive out of him, his life would be over.
The officer continued to size Tynan up, smoking slowly and blowing the smoke out of the side of his mouth where it drifted lazily towards the ceiling. Finally, he gestured towards one of his men. The trooper left the room, returning immediately leading a AG powered trolley full of complicated looking devices. Tynan thought they looked suspiciously like implements for torture.
The officer opened his mouth to speak. “Tell me about…” His thickly accented question was never finished.
“The Overdrive?," said Tynan eagerly, casting a worried glance at the trolley. “I know all about it which I’ll be happy to tell you…”
◊
“I’m not playing anymore," growled Bruce, throwing down his cards in disgust. He eyed Walter suspiciously. “Are you sure you’ve never played this before.”
Walter’s round face nodded innocently. The former ship’s activity coordinator was unsuccessfully trying not to smile.
Tarquin put his cards down. “I’m out as well. You win Walter. Again.”
Walter beamed and gave a little excitable clap, shoveling his latest winnings into bulging pockets.
“Beginners luck eh? Sorry chaps. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to win it back later.”
Bruce frowned and looked away. “Not fucking likely you shark," he mumbled under his breath.
“At least it kept us busy," said Tarquin. “They shouldn’t be much longer and I’ll feel much better once we get this thing out of here," he said patting the Overdrive in the seat next to him. The device had been covered in thermal wrappings from meal packets in an attempt to disguise it from the authorities. So far it had worked.
The three of them were seated at a small table in one of the PDS’s crew lounges, whiling away the time until the others got back from their mission on the planet’s surface. Bruce had suggested a game of cards to keep them occupied. At first only Bruce and Tarquin had played but after a while, Walter, with a show of reluctance and professing to know nothing about cards, had joined in. It didn’t take him long to clean both Bruce and Tarquin out.
Walter paused in his money gathering to look at something over Bruce’s shoulder. His eyes widened.
“Don’t look now, gentlemen,” he said, “but there’s a group of grim looking troopers moving purposefully towards us."
Predictably, both men ignored Walter’s instructions and looked over their shoulders. Sure enough, a squad of heavily armed troopers, led by an officer, were moving through the lounge, undoubtedly towards them.
“What shall we do?," asked Walter, his voice rising slightly.
“Stay cool," said Tarquin. “They may not be after us. For all we know, they might just be coming over to ask us join their social club."
Walter gave him a skeptical look. Tarquin shrugged. “Hey, just trying to put a positive spin on the situation."
“Well, we’re about to find out” said Bruce. “Here they come."
The squad came to halt beside their table.
“Are you the three from the escape capsule?," said the Captain, directing his inquiry towards Walter in a heavily accented French accent. Tarquin turned around in his seat and faced the officer.
“Nah," he said. “We’re just waiting for our ship. We’ve been down on the planet negotiating to buy some tobacco for some commercial interests back home."
The Captain looked confused. “Oh, merde," he said. “Just let me check." His eyelid fell down while he confirmed his instructions. Logan, Bruce and Walter exchanged nervous looks. A few moments passed and the Captain’s eyelid jerked up.
“Sorry about the confusion," he said with an insincere smile. “It seems the people we are looking for are down on lounge C3.” He turned away and began marching his men back through the lounge.
“Nicely done," said Bruce quietly. Walter let out a huge sigh of relief but then straightened suddenly, his eyes widening again in alarm. Over the shoulders of his companions, he could see that the squad had been intercepted by someone who appeared to be of more senior rank. This new officer was having a heated conversation with the squad leader and gesticulating angrily towards the three seated men.
“I think we’re in trouble," said Walter.
Tarquin glanced over his shoulder.
“This time, I’m inclined to agree with you Walter. Bruce, grab the Overdrive. Let’s get out of here.”
In a dazzling display of agility, Bruce flipped over Tarquin’s head, landed smoothly and picked up the Overdrive in one fluid movement. The other two were already making for the nearest exit, moving as fast as possible away from the squad of guards. With one huge bound, Bruce caught up to his companions.
Behind them, they could hear the officer ordering them to stop. Two Gitanian off duty soldiers stood up just in front of the fleeing trio, looking around with some confusion. Both sets of eyes widened in horror when they saw what was bearing down on them. Without breaking stride, Tarquin stiff armed one of the men. The hapless soldier did a 180 flip before landing with sickening thud behind him. The other soldier was even more unfortunate. Thoughts of a few quiet beers and a pleasant evening spent in the company of one of his squad mates quickly evaporated when he saw an enraged gorilla charging at him. Bruce brought both legs up to hammer a flying kick into the chest of the frail human obstacle. The soldier was sent flying a good five meters, his fall broken by a small coffee table which exploded into fragments. Bruce was confident he wouldn’t get up for a while.
“Don’t worry," puffed Logan. “They won’t shoot in case they hit the Overdrive.”
A bolt of plasma splashed against the wall, just missing Logan’s head and causing him to duck.
Logan grinned. “Then again, I’ve been wrong before.”
◊
Gabriella eyed the tactical screen in front of her, a smile flickering over her exquisite features.
Three small dots were displayed on the screen, two red and one blue, hanging before her in a roughly triangular pattern. The two red dots represented the PDS station and Asel’s ship, the class 1 Trireme, the Sweet Bejesus. Both craft were abo
ut 5,000 kilometers from her present position, effectively out of slipmissile range. Other, smaller ships, including two Gitanian frigates currently powering up and leaving the PDS, were represented by much smaller grey dots. The ship’s AI had already dismissed these other craft as posing little or no threat to the huge Valkyrie.
The Areopagite Princess had moved her ship into its present position after intercepting reports that the escape capsule bearing the Overdrive had docked with PDS station 5. Further reports indicated that Ram Terry had taken a shuttle down to the planets surface, presumably to secure another ship to take them to Novelle New Zealand.
It was a reasonable assumption that the Overdrive had gone down to the planet with them. She doubted whether they would be stupid enough to leave the device on the Gitanian station.
Gabriella allowed another smile to play across her lips. The Overdrive was almost within her grasp. It was just a simple matter of waiting for the miscreants to get back into orbit and they would be hers. That’s if those bastard Shepherds she’d corrupted could be trusted.
They had been depressingly easy to corrupt, Areopagite agents on the planet giving her the name of a senior Shepherd who had proven to be open to suggestion and manipulation in the past. Tardieu. That was his name. Her only nagging doubt was that if it was this easy for her to seduce him from the righteous path of the Shepherds, then it was a good possibility that the Watchers could do likewise.
She requested her AI to open a link with Tardieu via the ship’s communication array.
Doubt soon turned to anger and impatience.
Her AI, coupled with the ships could find no trace of the man, either on the planet’s surface or in orbit. She banged her fist down on the arm rest of her command chair, the blow causing the composite plastic to crack.
The bridge crew looked around nervously and even Sammael shifted uncomfortably, standing in his accustomed spot at her side. Sammael knew better than to inquire what was on his mistress’ mind. If she wanted his advice, she’d ask for it. Until then, he’d be best to keep his mouth shut.
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