by Rob Buckman
Darkness is another light
That exposes true beauty
The Heavenly family in peace
All through the night.
O, how cheerful smiles the star,
All through the night
To light its earthly sister
All through the night.
Old age is night when affliction comes
But to beautify man in his late days
We'll put our weak light together
All through the night.
Deep the silence 'round us spreading
all through the night.
Dark the path that we are treading
all through the night.
Still the coming day discerning
by the hope within us burning.
To the dawn our footsteps turning
all through the night.
Star of faith the dark adorning
all through the night.
Leads us fearless t'wards the morning
all through the night.
Though our hearts be wrapt in sorrow,
from the hope of dawn we borrow
promise of a glad tomorrow
all through the night.
Ev'ry star in heaven is singing
All through the night,
Hear the glorious music ringing
All through the night.
Songs of sweet ethereal lightness
Wrought in realms of peace and whiteness;
See, the dark gives way to brightness
All through the night.
Look, my love, the stars are smiling
All through the night.
Lighting, soothing and beguiling
Earth's sombre plight:
So, when age brings grief and sorrow,
From each other we can borrow
Faith in our sublime tomorrow,
All through the night.
Even Mike got a little misty eyed, hearing the words. They somehow seemed right for that moment and what he was about to do. After that, Mike knew it was time to go to bed before Taffy broke into another song, which he was liable to do at any moment. There were sufficient spare bedrooms for him and Jenks to have their own rooms so they didn’t have to listen to each other snore the remainder of the night. Mike slept well despite his preoccupation about seeing Anne, but after a good breakfast, he felt restless wanting to do something, anything to pass the time until the weekend. Jenks suggested a walk, Taffy was off arranging with a friend of his to take over the running of the Crown and Anchor while he and Jenks were away. He was also off to see a solicitor about what to do on the off chance neither of them came back.
“I’ve been to London a couple of times, but have yet to see anything of it.” Mike mused, feeling restless.
“Then you’ve come to the right place, my old son. Let's go for a walkabout as the Australians like to say, and I’ll show you the sights.
As a precaution, Mike put the hood up so the rain/sun screen hid his identity from the CCTV cameras. They took off at a steady pace toward the old city of London, cutting back and forth through narrow side streets to avoid the pedestrian traffic thronging the sidewalks of a normal busy London day. Jenks chatted on about one thing or another acting as a tour guide pointing out this or that bit of history. They turned down one narrow street, oddly free of pedestrian traffic, Mike seeing the name Rupert Street in passing. That was the moment the stars aligned and the lady of fortune turned her wheel. Half way down the street a door opened and the last man Mike expected to meet stepped out. Kevin Baker stopped for a moment and looked around, looking directly at him. For a moment, Mike forgot about the rain/sun shield and thought he’d been recognized.
“Shit!” Mike yelled as he exploded across the pavement and clipped Kevin Baker across the chin, knocking him to the ground.
CHAPTER FIVE:
Prime Minister Claude Buntard shook his head in disbelief. “What do you mean you had to let them go!” he spluttered, “good god man, we can’t have any old Tom, Dick, or Richard shooting up the countryside just because they feel like it.” By virtue of his rank as City of London Police Commissioner Gordon Parker had the misfortune of having to report to the Prime Minister in person something he couldn’t for once delegate.
“But, sir. It’s not as if they were randomly shooting up the mag-lift rail. The robo-cab was out of control and about to crash into a fusion generating sub-station…”
“That’s no excuse… They could have called for help and told someone the problem was and have them shut down the line.” The PM spluttered, ignoring the obvious. The Police chief wasn’t sure if the PM was just naturally stupid, or if he really didn’t understand the situation. By the sound of it, he hadn’t even bothered reading the report of the incident.
“There wasn’t time, or comm service, so we understand, Prime Minister…”
“That’s no excuse for their actions, nor the fact they could get away with it by claiming diplomatic immunity. You should still have thrown them in jail and let a judge decide if they should go free.”
Claude Buntard was getting positively red faced. Gordon Parker cut him off before he launched into one of his condemnation of the upper class, of which Gordon was one. “Sir, I’m sure you are aware that under international and interstellar law anyone carrying diplomatic credentials is untouchable. In this case, not only was he carrying such documents, but he was also the ex-president and owner of Avalon.” That seemed to just inflame Claude further. Gordon nosy Parker, to his enemies, wondered why the PM was getting so upset. There were some diplomatic personnel in London actually getting away with murder right now.
“That’s even more reason to throw that bog-trotting, colonial reject in jail. Planetary president indeed. He’s nothing more than a bloody pirate…. Who owns a whole bloody star system for heaven's sake? It’s preposterous! He’s nothing more than some upstart opportunist who took advantage of the political situation and stole the star system before anyone realized what he was doing,” Buntard spluttered, outraged that someone else had done something he could never do on his own.
Now Gordon had it; the stupid twit was jealous. He was only the Prime Minister, and not even directly elected, just leader of the party. Max Tregallion went out and discovered, then purchased his own star system, then built it into a well-founded, viable crown colony. Buntard wouldn’t even have had the balls to get into a one man, deep-space exploration ship, let alone navigate the Rift and find Avalon.
With difficulty he continued, “That still doesn’t change the facts. His life and many others were in immediate danger and had it not been for his quick action, the resulting explosion of the fusion sub-station would have wiped out half the district.”
The chief inspector was getting tired of explaining things to the PM, and wondered why he’d voted for the idiot in the first place. The red-nosed fat bastard sounded good standing up on the stage giving a political speech, but in reality he was no more than a puppet for more powerful men.
“No matter what you think about this, arresting him on any charge would have had the press and half of parliament up in arms. Not to mention what the reaction of the Avalon government and other sovereign star systems would be if we broke diplomatic immunity, sir.” Claude felt a shiver run up his spine. It was one thing to piss off one star system, Avalon, and another to have a whole bunch of them screaming at him about violating diplomatic immunity. Not to mention having embarrassing questions asked in the House.”
“Very well,” He said with ill grace, “I suppose you’re right. Get out. I have work to do.” He said in way of a dismissal.
As the police chief gladly departed, not even bothering with the honorary salute, Claude sat back in his comfortable easy chair and sipped his whisky. There was more than one way to skin a cat, as they say. Maybe he could arrange for this Tregallion fellow to have an accident. Even if he could no longer call on the services of MI6 or Special Branch, there were other people he could call on. A discrete comm call was all it to
ok to get things in motion.
* * * * * *
Sir Arthur Mullen brushed imaginary dust off the leg of his perfectly creased pants leg and looked at the Prime Minister with a certain degree of distaste. He hid it well behind his usual beatific smile and soft words.
“Claude, taking precipitous action against Max Tregallion at this juncture might not be the best course of action.”
“Why not? The man is a menace. Shooting up the mag-lift rail and putting honest, hard working English citizens at risk with illegal weapons, then claiming diplomatic immunity. The man’s nothing but a damn pirate for god sake!”
Sir Arthur sighed inwardly. Sometimes Claude was thicker than two short planks. “He is the ex-president of Avalon as well as the owner. That alone gives him immunity.” He waved away the offer of a drink as Claude Buntard held up the decanter before pouring himself another. “But you seem to have a bee in your bonnet about this man for some reason.”
“Owner! Ex-president!” He snorted. “Ex-president of some little jumped-up star system that won’t even pay its taxes for god sake! They had the temerity to chase the last governor general out at the point of a gun.” He spluttered. “What sort of civilized planet is that, I ask you?”
“One that takes its civic duties seriously by the sound of it.” Sir Arthur muttered.”
“Civic duty! That sounds like the people run the government not the other way around as it should be.” Claude Buntard stomped back and forth across his office. Sipping his whiskey and venting his spleen as they say. “What of law and order when everyone is running around armed to the teeth? That’s anarchy for god sake!”
“No, it something else, something we haven’t seen before.” Buntard stopped his pacing and glared at Sir Arthur. “With an armed population it would be very difficult for anyone to invade the place, something the Sirrien High Command is taking into consideration. It’s one thing to have a land-based army, we can plan for that, but what do you do when everyone over the age of eighteen has military-grade weapons, knows how to use the, and knows every inch of the territory you want to occupy?” Even Claude was bright enough to see the outcome of any forced landing.
“Surely, a couple of KEW’s on their major cities would bring them to heel?”
Sir Arthur looked pensive. “True to a degree. From the little we’ve been able to find out about Avalon to date, there are only two major cities and some towns scattered across the two major continents. Most of it is covered in thick forest of one sort or another, with small communities scattered here and there at random. Even if the Sirrien battle group bombarded them from orbit, the populace would just scatter into the forest and vanish.”
“How one unimportant star system on the backside of nowhere can give so many people heartburn is beyond me.”
“It’s the warp point nexus that makes it so valuable, Claude, surely even you should know that,” Sir Arthur answered testily. “Until someone else can find another way through, or around, the Rift, we and everyone else is stopped from going down the spiral arm.”
Stung by the sharpness of the reply, Claude Buntard sat there simmering, angered that someone like Max Tregallion had that much power when he didn’t.
Sir Arthur on the other hand, wondered if Claude’s usefulness to the cause might not be nearing its end. Not that he would be around long after the Sirriens took over. The one thing his masters didn’t want was some overbearing fat man with a chip on his shoulder about the royals and the upper class sitting in Whitehall making ridiculous demands on his new masters. Even so he was good for keeping the rabble and the MP’s in the House in line.
“I’m surprised that no one has yet to found a way around the Rift.” Claude muttered into his whisky glass as he took another gulp.
“Oh, there is another way, but if you remember your history,” which Sir Arthur doubted, “we could try going through Harmony space. You remember what happened the last time someone tried that.”
“Yes, His Imperial Majesty King Gustaf III of Prussia made the mistake of sending the combined might of the Imperial High Guard fleet in to subdue the natives, as he put it, and expand his empire. The Harmony destroyed his fleet down to the last ship, if I remember.” Claude grumbled.
Sir Arthur smiled thinly, “Yes, and to date no ships… well, no ships other than the Voss, and the so called Free Traders, have ever returned after entering Harmony space.”
In his mind’s eye Sir Arthur could see this arm of the galaxy with the Harmony on one side and the Rift on the other completely blocking any further progress down the arm. Without nav points there was no way any ship could jump to another arm or jump around the blockage. You either went through the Rift and paid the transit fee, if Avalon would even let you pass, or contented yourself with trading up the arm. After listening to Claude Buntard moan about this and that for another ten minutes, Sir Arthur took his leave, thankful to be out of there. His second meeting that morning was with a different group of power-mad idiots, namely the intelligence chief of the Sirrien Embassy, Tirra Lightly, and her second in command. They were of a different brand than Buntard and Tirra Lightly was a lot easier on the eye in her stylish business suit. Between the two, he suspected that she was more capable of slipping a knife in his back than Claude, and no matter how good she looked, she was one cold, psychopathic bitch. They sat together in a quiet corner of the hotel Savoy Grill, sipping coffee and eating cucumber sandwiches, something Sir Arthur enjoyed very much.
“So, what did that red-nosed, fat bastard have to say?” Tirra asked as a way of opening the conversation.
“Oh, the usual tirade against the royals and his own MP’s, but he was most upset about Max Tregallion.” Sir Arthur smiled slightly.
“The sooner his usefulness is over, the sooner I can get rid of that irritating pig.
“Yes, I agree, but it’s a pity that your little trap didn’t work.” Sir Arthur interjected quickly, before Tirra went off on one of her tirades about Claude Buntard.
“Yes, if we’d known the first Avalon citizen to use the robo-cab was going to be such an illustrious figure, I would have simply had the thing blown up.” A slight frown marred Tirra Lightly’s beautiful face for a moment. “Oh well, we might get another chance to nail his old hide to the wall even yet.”
“Not while he’s under the protection of that damn Free Traders Guild Hall. I doubt a fully equipped tactical assault team could get into that place,” Sir Arthur grumbled.
“We can’t really mount a full scale assault on the place as much as I’d like to. The damn place is a fortress no matter how pretty it looks.”
“Any luck getting a spy bot in?” Sir Arthur asked, seeing Tirra shake her head.
“No, damn it. We even tried sneaking one in through the drain systems but it got zapped before it got halfway there. Those buggers from Avalon are way too smart by half.
“Well, they are genetic supermen bent on galactic domination after all.”
“Genetic supermen!” Tirra snorted. “We started that whole thing and look what it got us. Let me get my hands on one of them, and I’ll show them what a real superman… superwoman is.” Sir Arthur didn’t doubt it, seeing she was enhanced, and could probably take on a man in power armor.
“Maybe we’ll get another opportunity to take out the old man,” she muttered.
“What puzzles me is, why the ex-president and owner of Avalon didn’t just order up an armored ground car, or shuttle from the Guild Hall when he landed at Bristol Space Port?”
Tirra gave Sir Arthur an apprising look. “Yes, that is a little odd, isn’t it? Maybe we should keep a closer eye on what’s going on there,” she added.
“A little bad press wouldn’t be amiss. Avalon citizen shooting up the peaceful English countryside and all that. Throw in a few photos of the shot-up robo-cab and the bit about genetic supermen bent on enslaving the galaxy and all that nonsense and it should play nicely to the great unwashed.”
“I’ll have one of our pet yellow-press re
porters run the story for a couple of days.”
“Good idea. You might also push the point that they have diplomatic immunity and could have slaughtered any number of ordinary Londoners in their mad rampage across the city.” Tirra Lightly laughed
* * * * * *
“Skipper! Watch it!” Jenks yelled, seeing two men exit the building behind the man Mike had knocked down. The warning was a second too late as both men drew and fired stun bolts into Mike’s back. Jenks jumped in to save his friend only to be met with another set of twin stun bolts for his troubles. Mike felt the bolts hit and a moment later he slumped to the pavement as blackness closed in around him. His next recollection was waking up in a chair with Kevin Baker slapping him repeatedly across the face and yelling at him.
“Wake up you piece of shit!” Followed by another slap. Mike jerked his head out of the path of the next slap blinking his eyes to clear the fuzziness away, but it didn’t help. He had a splitting headache, and jangling nerves from the double stun bolt hits, and to add to that he couldn’t stop his body from trembling.
“Good, you’re awake. Now we can get back to some unfinished business.
“What… what are you talking about?” Mike stuttered, having difficulty speaking properly. He worked his jaw back and forth and swallowed several times. Sometimes with multiple stun bolts, a person’s throat muscles locked up and they choked to death. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case here; even so it was painful to do any of the normal things like even blinking. He’d blink and his eyelids would remain closed for a second before opening again.
“You tricked me last time and chopped my arms off, if you remember. You motherless bastard!” Kevin slapped him across the face again. “That cost me a long time in a regeneration tank, and long, painful hours, days, weeks and months regaining the use of my new arms.” Baker slapped Mike again, “and, you cost me a lot of money and untold damage to my reputation to boot.”
“So? You always were a second rate swordsman! You’re nothing more than a cheap butcher-boy assassin, a second rate one at that.” Mike spat, getting another slap across the face for his troubles.