'What the fuck's that?' screamed Bessie. 'What the fuck in hell is that?'
'Rats,' pronounced the master. 'A pack of rats. A pack of big rats. And they've picked up our scent. And it's our taste, you see. We taste better than the roaches.'
Bessie didn't respond. She was obviously trying to digest this less than welcome news.
So too was Madeleine…
At first she was transfixed. The sight of so many rats moving so quickly and in her direction had a deeply transfixing effect. And so it seemed with the others. The dancing troupe had become a tableau, an unmoving set of figures, an untidy row of targets, something for the rats to aim for. And that's precisely what they were doing - and with such purpose - with such single-minded purpose!
And this was the trigger, the call that got through, the call that snapped Mad back to life. Because she had a purpose as well. A good purpose. And it was known as staying alive. And if she stood here any longer that purpose would be lost. She had to get out, get away, get anywhere where there weren't any rats. And she had to do all this very quickly. In fact, she had to do it now. Immediately. Or she'd not ever do it at all.
Smug observers would call this panic. They would have decided that Madeleine - and all her fellow travellers - were now in this state of mind. For all of them were now running - running along the edge of the cliff and away from the rats. And these observers would have exchanged knowing glances. And would, each of them, have shaken their heads. Because in their smugness they would have known that this was just an act of desperation, a final act of futile desperation that could delay but could not avoid the fate that awaited them all. And that was surely panic. Because those who were running knew it too. They knew how fast they could run - and they knew how fast the rats could run. And they knew how little time there was to find shelter. But they also knew there was no shelter. They were out in the middle of nowhere - with nowhere to go. They were in a fix, a fiendishly fatal fix. But still they ran. Still they ran in their blind panic, not knowing what else they could do.
Pity those smug observers weren't down there with them. Weren't down there feeling their hearts pounding in their breasts and smelling their own fear. Then they wouldn't have been so smug. Then they wouldn't have been passing those knowing glances. They'd have been doing just what Madeleine and all the others were now doing: running for their lives. It was just what anyone would have done. Even if it were pointless. And it was. Those rats would soon have them. Indeed they were almost there now…
Madeleine's mind was racing as fast as her feet. There must be something she could do. She didn't have a weapon. But maybe she could find a stick.
But no, she couldn't, could she? Sticks came from trees. And this place was no place for trees. It hadn't been for aeons. And in any event, how impressed would a million or so rats be by a woman shaking a stick? Answer: not at all. They'd just eat both her and the stick. So how about something more commanding - like a maser? Hell, yes, if only she could get one…
Then she heard it: a chorus of squeals from a chorus of rats. They'd been downed with a maser. Somebody else had had the same thought. It was Bessie herself. She was now standing, not running, and she'd become a rodent exterminator. And she needed to stay one. There were now rats all around her.
And now there were blasts all around her. Her bruisers were joining in. And for the most part it was to save themselves. They were all in the same situation: standing and defending themselves - against the attentions of wall-to-wall rats. And these tactics were beginning to work. The rats were now falling like flies - albeit rather large furry-skinned flies with rather long tails. But in any event, for the moment at least, all the bruisers seemed fairly relieved.
Madeleine however was not. She was just upset. For her, the current situation was all bad news. Indeed, it was the worst news possible. Because when asked to express a preference, most rats, it appeared, chose as a potential meal, a human without a death-dealing maser rather than one with such a weapon. And this meant that Madeleine and the Master, two of the three who were unequipped with such devices, were rapidly moving to the top of the rodent menu. This could not be disputed. Indeed, there was already a great swathe of rats turning in their direction - and no doubt with a meal on their mind.
On seeing this, Madeleine reacted in the only way she could: heroically. Without pausing for thought she ran to the Master - to protect him. The rats had him down for the entrée and he needed her help. And no sooner had she reached him, than the rats were there too. And then the rats were on him - and things weren't looking good…
He had one on his shoulder, its teeth bared as it prepared to strike at his neck. And then another on his chest, ripping its way through his shirt. Madeleine punched them off. But then there were two on her. And no sooner had she dispatched these, than there were others there to take their place. And now, more than she could count - on both of them. And things were now looking even less good…
It was at this critical stage of the proceedings that the first patch of rats were knocked off their feet - just to Madeleine's right. Then another bunch was bowled over, just in front of the Master. And then another and yet another. And when they fell, they stayed fell. Somebody was using a maser on them, not to kill them but, in its “blunderbuss” mode, to stun them. And that way they were stunning a lot more than they'd ever kill using regular blasts. And it was working. The ground around Madeleine and the Master was becoming covered in resting rats.
'But who could be doing this?' thought Madeleine. 'Who could be pacifying so many rodents quite so effectively - and at such an opportune time?'
And then she looked up and she saw…
'Ah,' she said out loud, 'I see now. It's the police. And just in the nick of time.'
Now, only a little while ago, the Master had told Bessie that there were no humans on this Earth. That only rats and roaches lived here. So one would imagine that the arrival of a police contingent - from whatever sort of constabulary - would be unlikely in the extreme. After all, what sort of world would have no people, but still manage to establish a force of law and order? Answer: none. And that includes Earth. For these newly arrived policemen - there were just two of them - were not stationed on this planet, nor indeed were they attached to this planet - and that's to say not attached to it physically. Rather they were floating in the air - at just above rat-jumping height. And they were both very tall, and they were both pear-shaped - and both of them were legless. Yes, it was the laughing policeman and his twin brother. Or more precisely Boz's laughing policeman contraption and an identical spare - kept in reserve, just in case his own sustained a puncture, or its hover-drive went on the blink, or its head got knocked off in the middle of one of those outrageous on-board orgies.
But Madeleine was unconcerned with their antecedents. All she was interested in was the prospect they held before her, the prospect of life, the prospect of other than death. She wasn't even interested in who was in them - although, of course, she knew. Who else but Renton and Boz could turn the arrival of salvation into a bloody comedy routine? And the way one of them was wobbling… well, that had to be Renton. He looked like a blimp who'd been out on the booze - and was legless in more ways than one. Yes, it had to be him alright.
And so this was Boz who was now coming to her aid - while his twin was still wobbling. And now it was Boz who was reaching for her, that great bulbous body dipping down to greet her and then to grab her. And now those long, strong arms around her. And then she was airborne with hardly a rat still about her. Two had been nibbling at her boots, but they were soon shaken off. And then she was rodent free. The relief was no less than huge.
But it got even better. Cop number two, aka her beloved Renton, had now repeated Boz's manoeuvre - but with the Master. And despite his aerial inadequacies, he had him safely in his grasp. And, as with Madeleine, the diminutive leader was now completely rat free.
This, however, could not be said for Bessie and her brethren. The rats appeared to have g
rown used to the blast of a maser and were becoming bolder by the minute. They had also, it seemed, been studying the art of the “blind side” and its effectiveness in attack. And so most of Bessie's blondes now had a cloak of fur on their backs - and they could do nothing about it. And neither could the laughing policemen. They were able to stun more of the rats, but not enough of them, and certainly none of those that were already on board the women. And neither could they lift the women to safety. Hell, one passenger each was a terrific strain on the hover drives, and any more was just a no-no. It would have spelled disaster for them all.
So now it was getting nasty. Madeleine could hardly watch. Even though Renton and Boz were still firing at the rats, it was hopeless. It was a cause they'd already lost. The rats were now taking great chunks out of their unfortunate hosts - and their hosts were still awfully alive.
Cristalina was now almost overwhelmed.
'God, what an end,' thought Madeleine. 'All that beauty. All that talent. And now it's going. And in such a horrible way.' Cristalina, the woman who had threatened to topple Bessie was now being toppled herself - by a bunch of rats. And now they had her on the ground. And now she was still. She was dead. And Madeleine began to weep.
Bessie, however, did not. She had troubles of her own. And she didn't even notice her lieutenant's demise. And they were real troubles. Hell, here she was, burdened with a banquet of a body - and the feast had already begun.
She was covered in rats. And she was being eaten alive. Consumption it seemed, that blight of consumption on which she'd thrived for so long, had finally turned - and turned against her. And soon this consumption would kill her.
And sure enough she started to crumple. She began to stagger under the weight of the rats. There were now so many of them on her body that they were simply dragging her to the ground.
Then there was a dreadful scream, a noise that never before had been heard on this Earth. Because it wasn't a scream of agony, and it wasn't a scream of terror. It was instead a scream of pure elemental rage. And as the scream ended, Bessie's maser arm emerged from the mound of brown fur. And the arm pointed that maser into the sky - but not into just anywhere in the sky. Oh no, this was a purposeful point. She was seconds from death, but she still had her rage. And that rage let her muster her will.
So when that maser loosed its very last burst, it was a directed burst - directed at the Master. And the Master was dead. He'd slumped forward in Renton's arms, blood pouring from his chest.
'Oh God,' thought Madeleine, 'Oh God. That's the end of the Lagooners, the end of them all!'
It was the end of Bessie as well. Her final blast was her final act. And now she was being shredded to bits. The rats were dissecting her, and soon they'd dissolve her. There'd be nothing left of her - and certainly nothing of any importance…
60.
Before he'd left the Lollipop, Renton had been beside himself with anger.
Not only had those blasted Lagooners not warned him about the real state of the Earth, but they'd also let the only woman he really loved leave the safety of their ship, the only refuge on this benighted planet from the perils that lurked without. And how could they? How could they stretch their desire to cherish life in all its forms to this total disregard for the individual - and for someone who had helped them so much?
He'd become almost violent. Boz had been obliged to restrain him, a previously unheard of event. But then he'd calmed down. When Orphenia explained…
To start with she'd explained their plot: the Lagooners' plot. And it was all very simple. It was to allow Boz's plan to run its course: to get Bessie here to Earth and then to eject her from the ship. She wouldn't, of course, be arrested by any authorities as Boz had surmised, but instead she'd be arrested by its wildlife - and then swallowed by it.
But what would have happened if our heroes had learnt the truth? Even at the last minute when they landed here on Earth? And that's why they'd landed in the dark - so that no one could see outside…
Wouldn't they then have become rather squeamish? After all, it was one thing to set up a trap, but it was quite another to set up a dinner, a dinner where your adversary would be the entire plat du jour!
They just wouldn't have done it, would they? And Renton had been obliged to agree. No, they wouldn't. Not in a million years. It was just too revolting. Far too revolting for softies like them. Only the Lagooners could cope with that. They were made of rather sterner stuff. And they were desperate. They were in a corner. But even so, did that really excuse their abandoning Mad?
Well yes, it did. Because as far as the Lagooners had known, it was only Bessie who would be on the menu - and any number of her helpers. They'd had no idea that Madeleine would be joining them too. After all, it hadn't been in Boz's plan. And then nobody had told them of the change. And when they did find out, it was too late. Madeleine had been gone for hours and there was no way they could get her back. Then they'd learnt that Renton and Boz were off too. And that's when they'd told them of the dangers - and their need to “keep well off the grass”…
So Renton's fury had abated. And soon it had been replaced with a feeling of dread, an absolute unadorned dread. It had been awful. And Renton had needed Boz to pull him through, and Boz to encourage him - and Boz to help him with his hover.
How the hell had he coped? He'd been in such a terrible state. But he had. And here he was now, hovering back to the ship - with a renewed feeling of dread…
A little earlier, of course, there'd been that great surge of joy - as Mad had been plucked to safety. And then relief - and satisfaction - as he'd done the same with the goonies' Master. The very essence of goonie life had been snatched from the jaws of death, and just in time… But look at him now: a lifeless and bloodied corpse. And that lifeless was lifeless for real. His flame had been snuffed out for good. For this was the Master! This was the man himself. Not one of the “normal” Lagooners. And that meant he couldn't be fixed. He couldn't be saved - not even with bits under brine.
Hell, this was the guvner, the engine room and the command bunker rolled into one, the “thing” that supported it all. And he was dead. And that meant all the others were as well - even the fair Orphenia. If they couldn't exist when he went out of range, how could they ever exist when he'd cleared off forever?
God, what would he find? What the hell would he find when he got to the ship? What the hell would be left there to find?
He found Orphenia and he found her smiling.
61.
He parked it. Renton accepted his bewilderment with good grace, but he then simply set it aside. And, instead, he walked over to where Madeleine and Boz had now appeared and gave Madeleine a twenty-five second hug and a twenty second kiss. And when he'd done this, he gave Boz a hug as well - but not a kiss, just a manly sort of pat on the back. And then he was facing bewilderment again; it was there in Boz's eyes. And Madeleine was fairly confused as well. As was evident from her question to Orphenia.
'Orphenia,' she said, 'what the hell's going on?'
Orphenia's response was a gentle smile and an invitation to all three of them to: 'come this way'.
So they did. And soon they found themselves in the lab, the same one where they'd first set eyes on the Master. It was now empty. They were alone there with Orphenia. And then she spoke.
'Boz, Madeleine, Renton,' she started, 'we are deeply grateful for what you have done. More grateful than we can ever put into words. And we will never forget. For as long as we roam through the skies, we will never forget…'
'For as long as we roam through the skies? Never forget? Well, they're some pretty strange sentiments coming from a bunch of people staring extinction in the face,' thought Renton. 'Or maybe I've lost the plot…'
'Excuse me,' pronounced Boz, 'but I don't quite catch your drift. I mean, I'm right real proud to receive those there thoughts. An' I'm sure my partners are as well. But you see, I don't think we quite understand. I mean, on account o' the sad demise of your ole M
aster chappie - an' what this might mean for you all - in the errh… in the errh existence department, so t' speak. I mean, real bluntly, we thought he was like the essence. You know, the essential like essence. An' that without him, yous ended up stuffed…'
'Well thank God for that,' thought Renton. 'I haven't gone mad after all. Or if I have, then Boz is in there with me.'
Orphenia answered Boz's query with another smile. And then her eyes went, and it was the Master again….
'My apologies,' he started. 'My total, unreserved apologies. Let me try and make amends. And let me try and make amends by being completely honest…'
'God,' thought Renton, 'they haven't all got tattoos, have they?'
And no. They hadn't all got tattoos. But they had got a pretty improbable secret.
'First of all,' he continued, 'let me confirm what you've already guessed. And that's our… well, let's call it our interdependence. You're right. "I" and "we" are just the same. The Master is the Lagooners. And the Lagooners are the Master. But not in quite the way you think…'
Renton couldn't help himself. He had to interrupt.
'So what you're saying is that the Master… I mean, the guy who died in my arms… Well, that he's like all the other Lagooners. And that means he can be brought back to life? Or that he didn't really die? I mean that you didn't really die… And in some way the others sustain you? I mean, the other Lagooners…'
'No' replied the Master. 'If I am destroyed, then so too are all the Lagooners. I am the "essence" as Boz has described. But I was not in that body. The body that died in your arms. He is a Lagooner like all the others - with no special status and no special power. He's just the Lagooner we chose to play the part - the part of the Master. And just like all his colleagues who've "died", he'll soon be restored. He'll be mended and made good as new. You see, he was just a stooge, a dupe to distract our assailants. And unfortunately, that meant you were duped too. And for that, please forgive me…'
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