The Legend of Dan

by Robert Wingfield

  The intercom crackled. “Thank you for your patience. We think we have the heating unit repaired, and are now ready to take off. Drogda Airlines apologise for the two-week delay, but your safety is our priority. Please get into the correct mode for take-off.”

  There was a rush of activity, as passengers lit cigarettes, closed the window blinds, reclined their seats and unfastened the seat restraints.

  “Thank you. We have been given clearance to leave.”

  Sporadic cheers filled the cabin, and with a roar of straining engines, the ship rose vertically, and shot off towards the mountains.

  Tom turned to his companion. “I hope the girls will be okay.”

  “No problem,” retorted Vac. “One Skagan woman is more than a match for any squad of nancy-boy Consortium troopers.”

  “I hope so, but where in Ford’s name are we going now?”

  “This shuttle is scheduled for a holiday resort in the mountains. It will be a good hideaway. We can call the others when we need someone to pay the bill.”

  The intercom crackled again and this time a man’s voice reverberated around the cabin. “Captain Wang and his crew welcome you aboard the Drogda shuttle, flight 101 to Sapristi Boyos, the finest holiday resort on the planet. Do not be alarmed if we encounter any turbulence, or you observe a slight reduction in the number of wings. This is because the main stabiliser unit is offline, owing to a denial of service attack by Na-Drogda Primary School as part of an IT project. Also, do not worry if the cabin pressure drops suddenly. We are offering the ‘instant suicide’ facility on this flight. All potential candidates please make your way to the rear of the craft, where our caring staff will be honoured to relieve you of your valuables, and throw you out over the mountains. We would appreciate if you could ensure that you drop into the large circular target areas on the ground; if you miss, it only means extra work for the cleaning department, and you know how tetchy they can get if asked to do any work. Cash prizes will be awarded to your families for those closest to the centre.”

  Tom shook his head. Vac grinned.

  “For the rest of the passengers, we hope you will be not too inconvenienced by the loss of your luggage at the aerodrome, and the theft of your valuables. For those of you who have not booked ahead to the hotel, and are not carrying any cash on your persons, having left it in your luggage, we apologise, and expect to see you at the rear of the craft, with the others. Return tickets will not be required in this instance. The flight attendant will move amongst you, offering refreshments, and sick bags at a small extra charge. Please enjoy your flight.”

  “How long...?” Tom started.

  “Flight time is about one hour,” said the voice, “unless the whip-round doesn’t reach the minimum donation, in which case, we might never get there. I’m told the mangrove desert to the north is somewhat uncomfortable at this time of year. Assuming you decide to fund keeping the craft in the air, I would ask you to pay attention to the safety demonstration, even if you are a frequent traveller.”

  There was a pause as the stewardess began to remove her clothing, and then the voice continued.

  “It does seem a bit hypocritical, considering the state of the aircraft, so we’re not going to bother.”

  There was a groan from the male passengers as the attendant put her uniform back on.

  “We will now go on to automatic pilot.”

  The door to the control cabin opened as the stewardess retrieved the refreshment trolley. Tom noticed with some concern, that the pilot’s seat was empty, and a gawky-looking robot was lurching across towards it. The door closed again. The ship turned upside down and started to shake violently.

  “Please do not be concerned; this is perfectly normal as the automatic pilot takes over,” shouted the stewardess, as she crawled along the ceiling. “The refreshment trolley is fixed to the floor by ‘Aaron flux’. The coffee will be alright.”

  “That’ll be a first,” muttered one of the passengers.

  Tom looked out of the window to see two parachutes opening. “Is that the flight crew?”

  “Don’t worry,” the woman told him. “They are working double shifts, and are scheduled to pick up their next aircraft before this one lands.”

  The ship stopped shaking and righted itself. The stewardess dropped down on to Vac’s lap, and grinned.

  “Can I inspect your ticket now please, Vac, er, I mean, sir?”

  Vac undid his trousers.

  She gasped, “That will do nicely,” and then breathed, more quietly, “Would Sir care to accompany me to the washroom?”

  Vac grinned smugly at Tom, “Skagan refugee,” he said, and followed the girl down the aisle.

  Tom rifled the abandoned refreshment trolley for food and drink, and then shoved it along, to the greedy outstretched fingers of his fellow passengers.

  An hour’s erratic flight brought them over the mountains to the destination resort. The ship touched down surprisingly smoothly on auto-pilot, and as the remaining passengers clambered unsteadily to their feet, Vac and the girl reappeared from the washroom, pleased and flushed respectively.

  There was nothing much to the resort, to impress–a rundown hotel, built of mud bricks, a lake surrounded by a few scruffy trees lashed with barbed-wire, and some flat areas surrounded by small brick walls, painted to look like stone.

  “Tennis courts?” said Tom. “I never expected to see something like this, so far from home. I haven’t had a game in years. Our courts are always waterlogged.”

  “What’s tennis?” Vac appeared on the gangway and followed Tom down the steps.

  “You know, tennis,” said Tom, “it’s a game where people stand on either side of a net, and hit a hollow rubber ball with bits of cat. A lot of other people sit around and admire the players’ legs.”

  “Sounds like a drag. Oh, not the ex-woodcavers. Ignore them.”

  Several ragged men rushed forward from the hotel, begging to carry the luggage. Finding very little, they hoisted the passengers themselves on to their shoulders, and carried them to the reception desk and started begging for tips. Vac fended them off with his feet.

  “Fill this in.” The receptionist handed Tom a form.

  “It looks like some sort of bankers’ draft,” he said. “Is that a very big number, there, under the nightly charge?”

  “Leave it with me.” Vac scribbled a fictitious name and address, and handed it back.

  “Only the two of you, then?” The receptionist peered over her glasses, suspiciously. “No luggage?”

  “It was stolen on the shuttle.”

  “Huh, a likely story. Buttons, two perverts for the special ‘TV Executive’ suite at the back.”

  “Cheeky cow,” said Tom, as they followed a grimy child up crumbling stairs to the first floor.

  “There are a lot of westerns made here, since your own planet sank under the weight of plastic refuse, and the Grand Canyon filled up.”

  “That’ll be where the tennis comes in, I suppose. The adobe walls aren’t strong enough for squash.”

  “If you say so.”

  “The room,” squeaked the child, opening a door for them. He held his hand out. “A tip?”

  Vac kicked him out into the corridor. “A tip? Don’t beg money from Skagans,” he said, and slammed the thin door in his face.

  “That was a bit harsh,” said Tom, reprovingly.

  “Don’t want to encourage them.” Vac fished around in his tunic. “Here, I meant to give you this on the shuttle, but I got side-tracked for some reason.”

  He handed Tom a small, banana shaped object.

  “What’s this?” Tom peered down a tube at one end.

  “It’s a molecular dispersal gun, a ‘Conventional Operation Life Terminator, model forty-five’ so don’t press that button there unless you want to lose your head. You’ll probably find it more effective than that hair-dryer you’ve been menacing me with. I’ll order room service.” He pres
sed a button on the wall, and spoke a few words into a handset, hanging by its wire.

  “So you had guns all along?” said Tom, when he’d finished. “We could have taken those guards on.”

  “Na, I got them in ‘Duty Free’ on the plane. I don’t think the stewardess noticed. I thought we might like to kill something when we got here. Where’s that meal I ordered?”

  “You only just ordered it.”

  “I expect instant response, with the money we’re paying.”

  “I thought you said the others would pay.”

  “Yes, but it’s the principle of the thing. Now learn how to use that thing. Once we’ve eaten, you can use it to get a free shag from the locals.”

  Tom took the weapon and turned it over in his hands. “Don’t you people believe in anything but violence, food and sex? There are other things, you know.”

  Vac stared at him with surprise. “Is there something I’m missing? Do tell. No, don’t bother. It’ll be something you Earthies like to do, like watching men pretending to kick a ball about. Now, ladies football, there’s a thing... talking about ladies and sex, I wonder what happened to the ladies. I’ll place a call.”

  Vac took hold the handset. He spoke to someone, and gave a long code number. There were a series of clicks.

  “Yes, hello?” Tanda’s voice came somewhat hesitantly through a hidden speaker unit.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. We’re here.”

  “What about the troopers?”

  There was a slight pause. “They went away after your ship took off; we heard someone say they would rather be drinking, than chasing around airfields, repossessing luggage.”

  “Good, we’ve got somewhere safe to stay. Come and join us?”

  “Where are you?”

  “At Hotel Sapristi in the mountains. Bring plenty of cash... in your hand luggage.”

  “We’ll be there as soon as we can... if we can get a flight, that is.” The communication link cut abruptly.

  “There’s something wrong.” Tom was shaking his head.

  “Rubbish, the woman is in love with me, and gets all humpy over my dealings with the outlander.”

  “Yes, we’ve still got to see about that.” Tom glared at him.

  “Later.” Vac deliberately stared out of the window towards the craggy mountains. A few crows were wheeling about in the distance somewhere under the flight path of the shuttle. “You should get familiar with that gun.”

  Tom set his ‘Colt’ to the ‘practise’ setting, and drew some crosses on the wall as targets. By the time the remaining plaster was gone, he had mastered the weapon to his own satisfaction, if not Vac’s, who heckled him at every opportunity.

  A long time passed, with nothing but the croaks of the birds, and an occasional wolf-whistle from the tennis courts to disturb the peace, and then the roar of another shuttle landing shattered the silence. This time, the noise was abruptly silenced by a sickening crunch. They heard a faint voice from the ship’s intercom, blaming the passengers for the roughness of the landing, and the three week delay that they would now have, whilst repairs were carried out.

  “Our guests are here,” said Vac.

  Tom finished his practice and clicked his gun back to the ‘power’ setting. Vac sat down on the bed, spinning his own weapon idly round a finger.

  A knock sounded. “Who is it?” Vac called, superfluously.

  “Us,” came the enlightening reply.

  “Come in then, what are you waiting for? Do you expect me to get up and open the door for you? Who do you think I am, someone who is not the last surviving Skagan chieftain in the universe?”

  There was a slight pause, and then the door burst open. Kara dived into the room. “Look out, it’s a set-up, the Cons are...”

  A rifle blast hit her full in the back. Her body disintegrated. Vac tried to raise his gun. He was hit in the shoulder as a soldier hurled himself in through the doorway. Tom fired his own weapon, an easy shot. What was left of the man peppered the wall across the corridor with purple slime. His gun continued firing, even after he removed his thumb from the trigger. A second soldier was cut down in the volley.

  There was a scuffle outside, and then a third man collapsed in the doorway, blood gushing from his throat. Tanda rushed into the room, wailing like a banshee, and miraculously dodged more power bolts spraying around her. She dropped a dripping stiletto, and darted to Vac’s side, to drag him out of the line of fire.

  “Give me my gun. I’ll get the drongos.” Vac seemed confused.

  The door swung shut, and a voice came from outside. “We have you outnumbered. Stop firing, and come on out, or your friend dies!”

  The door was thrust open again, and Tom very nearly blasted Suzanne, as she was pushed into view.

  The voice came again, from behind the wall. “We’ve got her covered. Surrender, you don’t stand a chance. Throw out your weapons, and I will spare her.”

  “Suzy, are you all right?” Tom barely held himself back.

  “They haven’t hurt me... much,” said Suzanne, weakly. “They forced me to eat a burger on the plane, and the coffee was unbelievably bad.”

  “We’re waiting,” said the soldier’s voice. “Surrender now. You know you want to.”

  “No,” Tanda hissed. “They will kill us, nevertheless. They only kept us alive for their amusement. We don’t stand a chance either way.”

  Tom nodded blankly and raised his gun. He pointed it at the wall where he thought the man might be hiding.

  “I’m going to start counting,” continued the voice. “You have until ten to surrender. One, two, three...”

  “I know that voice,” muttered Tom.

  “Four, five…”

  “Griosclanu, is that you?”

  “Five… Do I know you? My Phoist, is that my old mate, Appain?”

  “Sure is,” answered Tom. “So you made it into the military?”

  “Four… certainly did. I’m a vice squad-commander now.”

  “Vice, very impressive, but what’s that to us? We’re nothing to do with prostitution.”

  “Four… so what are you up to at the moment, then?”

  “Being shot at, apparently.”

  “Four… of course. Sorry about all this. Orders you know. We have been instructed to either capture or kill you. I’m not sure which, so I’m going to try it both ways. Five, six…”

  “Why do you have to do that?” Tom had his COLT raised, and pointing at the wall beside the door. Suzanne saw what he was planning. She turned slightly away from the hidden soldier, and moved her hands in front of her, pointing to the right. Tom tracked his gun slowly in that direction.

  “Do what?” said Griosclanu.

  Suzanne’s finger now pointed upwards. Tom raised the barrel of the gun slowly.

  “Capture or kill us.”

  “Six... I didn’t ask.”

  “Then perhaps you should. It’s this mindless following of orders that gets a load of innocent people hurt.”

  “Good point. Best to be on the safe side. I’ll check...” Tom heard a rustle of paper, “...it says, here, that you were something to do with the destruction of our property, and are in the company of a known war criminal. Seven, eight…” Suzanne’s finger indicated to the left and Tom’s gun followed it.

  “Do you really have to kill us?”

  “I suppose that, now I read the instructions again, we have been told to arrest you, alive if possible,” said Griosclanu after a thoughtful pause. “But I can’t be bothered with all the paperwork. Nine, ten; ready, coming or not…”

  Suzanne crossed the forefingers of each hand. Tom fired. A large hole appeared in the wall, and two concealed guards ceased to be anything but a gaudy decoration on the wall opposite.

  “Great shot!” Suzanne cheered, and rushed into the room to throw her arms round Tom’s neck.

  “Great range-finding,” replied Tom. They
held each other tightly for a moment. “Are there any more of them?”

  “Haven’t seen any,” said the girl. “There would have been, but the rest were nursing hangovers, so only this squad was operational. Anyway, morale was so low, that they were talking about resigning, and forming their own airport management company. Apparently there’s a shortage of baggage handlers.”

  “So we’re safe for a while?”

  Suzanne nodded, and then looked round at the carnage. She pursed her lips.

  “Sorry about the mess,” said Tom. “We should call room service. How’s Vac?”

  “Could be better.” Tanda was cradling Vac’s head, and moaning slightly, but Vac was conscious, and muttering obscenities concerning the Consortium.

  Tom looked back through the hole in the wall, and shuddered at the mess he’d made. “We should be leaving, I think, before that lot starts to smell any worse.” He stood up, and his foot crunched on what looked like piles of plastic beads, shattered fibre-optic connections and control cables. A patch of dark fluid stained the floor.

  “What’s all this?” He picked up a soft breast-shaped object.

  “I think it might be Kara.” Suzanne thoughtfully stirred the collection with her toe. “I always suspected there was something a bit mechanical about her. Shame though, she was our meal ticket out of here.”

  “Is that all you saw her as?” Tom seemed to have missed the significance of the remains on the floor, despite what he was absently squeezing.

  “She wasn’t very nice, you know. She was using you to her own ends, and even boasted about it.”

  “Like most of the girls I’ve ever known... Hang on, she was a machine? I fancied a machine?”

  Vac wheezed painfully. “Great legs though.”

  “Sorry to inconvenience you, while you’re slagging me off.” A muffled voice came from under the bed.

  “What?” Tom bent down. Kara’s head was lying on its side, her eyes blinking in the dust. The mouth moved. “Could you get me out of here?”

  “Kara?”

  “Who did you expect, Oilflig Phoist?”

  “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Tom lifted the head gently and placed it on the bed. Fluid oozed over the grimy covers. “I think you are right about leaving,” said the Kara head. “There will be security in the grounds, and other parts of the hotel. I suspect the noise might have distracted them from the tennis courts.”