Cargo Cult (34 page)

Now it would have to rely on the
thrice-damned Vinggans to negotiate with the local police to get
their prisoners back. And that would mean telling the idiots that
they had a holdful of humans they didn't know about.

If the ship had had teeth, it would
have ground them.

One thing was for sure, that moron
on the orange dress who helped them escape would be pulled apart
molecule by molecule as soon as the ship had its hands on him
again.

-oOo-

Constable Collins may have been new
in the district but he was a man of some considerable celebrity. It
was Collins after all who had stood up and told the truth about the
alien invasion. It was Collins whose picture had been all over the
TV news and in every paper. It was Collins who had confirmed what
so many country people had known was true for so many years: aliens
were out there and they were coming to get us.

To most people who live in cities
and have rarely, if ever, seen a starlit night, the awesome majesty
of a sky unobscured by street lights and neon signs most likely
seems like the romantic ravings of novelists and similarly deranged
dreamers. But to the handful of people who live out in the bush and
scratch a living from the dry earth, it is obvious that the skies
are full to overflowing with stars and, most probably, with life.
Out there on lonely farmsteads, your nearest neighbour many
kilometres distant across the empty bushland, people start
imagining things. After a while, some of them start seeing things,
too. Strange things. Things that drop from the skies in a blaze of
light, march right up to you and drag you off for a long night of
anal probing and God-knows-what-else. Those same city folk, who
might think that farmers are a solid, level-headed bunch, their
boots planted firmly on the ground, would undoubtedly be amazed at
just how much alien abduction is thought to be going on outside the
cosy confines of the major population centres.

Of course, as any of the many
space-faring civilisations will happily tell you, all those poor
deluded farmers are off their collective heads. Sentient life-forms
the galaxy over have far better things to do with their time than
to probe the orifices of primitive aliens on obscure, backwater
planets. They'd probably laugh their tentacles off at the mere
suggestion.

Still, with humans it is hardly
ever the truth that matters, it is what people believe to be true
that gets them out of bed in the mornings. And on this particular
morning, it was their superstitious faith in little green men,
Government cover-ups and secret, air force research labs, that had
them standing in a huge crowd around Police Constable Jack Collins
in the cool of a Queensland dawn.

With great animation, he finished
explaining his plans.

"These aliens are dangerous," he
shouted to the grim-faced crowd from the back of a ute. "You've
seen what they did to Dave Delgarno's boys and the Murphy twins.
There was hardly enough left of them to bury." A small sob could be
heard from Mrs Murphy who was at the back of the crowd. “But we can
get 'em if we're smart."

Collins looked around at the people
around him. Every man carried a gun. Every woman carried a gun too.
Even the few children present carried guns. He only wished there
were more of them and that they had more guns. This was not going
to be easy. Below him, ranged against the side of the ute were his
sergeant and the other two constables they'd brought in. These were
his captains. They would lead the units. There were no local
doctors but Mrs Potter from the big sheep station was a trained
nurse and she'd have to do as their medic if things turned nasty.
Bill Grigson and Johnny Cray had brought their big diggers as
requested. These were essential to the plan.

"OK." Collins' voice became firm
and determined. His old colleagues back in Brisbane would have been
astonished at the change in him, but adversity had made a man of
Jack Collins. Fate had given him this opportunity to redeem
himself, to get back at the alien invaders, and to stick it to the
Chief Constable, and Collins had grabbed it with both hands and was
not going to let it go until it had fulfilled its promise. "You all
know the plan. You all know what's at stake here. Good luck
everybody. Let's go."

Braxx entered the warlord's palace
with Klakk and Trugg at his side and an escort of hulking trolls
from the Palace Guard flanking them. A minor functionary, one of
the local sapients from the Palace staff, had greeted them at the
ship with much flattery and unction and now led them eagerly to
meet the great Chuwar. Conscious as ever of his own dignity, Braxx
ignored the Mozbac functionary as much as possible.

"This way, Your Eminence," the
delicate, green-skinned creature announced, grovelling as it led
them through the high, stone corridors of the Palace. Braxx looked
about him with distaste. The building was massive and crude and was
clearly the product of a primitive and unrefined taste. It didn't
bother Braxx that, until a couple of generations ago, Vinggan
architecture had been quite similar. These days, Vingg was a model
of progress and civilisation, as befitted the most advanced species
in the Known Galaxy.

"Tell me," he commanded the Mozbac.
"What religion do you practice here?"

The creature looked confused.
“Religion, Your Eminence? What is that?"

Braxx waved an arm, airily. "You
know, religion. The worship of gods. The quest for the perfection
and elevation of the soul."

The functionary cringed a little in
apology. "Why we have no such practices here, Your Eminence. I do
not think the Mighty Chuwar would permit us to worship any other
being but himself, even if we wanted to."

Braxx stopped dead – causing the
Palace Guard to stumble and bump into one another as they attempted
to do the same. He watched them, briefly, as they clattered about,
then turned his attention back to the Mozbac. "No religion?"

Horrified that he may have caused
some offence to the warlord's esteemed guest, the functionary
abased himself. "I – I'm not sure we had one even before the Mighty
Chuwar came to liberate our miserable, unworthy planet. Er...
sorry."

Shocked, Braxx nevertheless managed
to wave the Mozbac to its feet. "I'm sure it is not your fault, you
poor creature. Alas, there are many benighted worlds that the
message of the Great Spirit has yet to reach. I can only pity your
ignorance and spiritual poverty." He turned to Trugg with a sigh.
"I know we need this flux modulator whatnot but I see a more urgent
need to enlighten these people. We will urge the government of this
place to accept a mission from Vingg to bring them the joy of
knowing the Great Spirit. If they don't accept, we must press the
Communality to send armed missionaries to help these poor
people."

Listening to this, the To'eghan
jumped up anxiously. "You won't mention the armed missionaries to
Mighty Chuwar, will you, Your Eminence. He is a great and
benevolent ruler but he tends to react badly to people invading his
planets."

Braxx nodded sagely. "I understand.
Enlightened leadership is not to be found on every planet. Even
some Vinggan colonies have resisted religious indoctrination, you
know." He shook his head, sadly, at the folly of it all.

Watching him nervously, the Mozbac
led the Vinggans through the massive doors of the Great Hall and
into the profound gloom within.

"Trouble with the power?" Braxx
asked, peering into the misty darkness all around him.

The functionary cringed again. "The
Mighty Chuwar prefers it like this, Your Eminence. Personally, I'm
quite happy not to know what lives here in the shadows of this
hall." He shuddered and hurried them along towards the glow of the
dais just visible through the darkness.

-oOo-

Drukk threw open the outer hatch
and Sam and the others rushed through. Even as they did so, more
maintenance bots appeared behind them in the long corridor. They
had encountered several such groups along the way and each one had
been more wild in its suicidal attacks on the escapees. Drukk had
easily dispatched each group, zapping them with his little beam
weapon. Other groups of the bots had been armed only with knives
and lengths of pipe but this latest group opened fire with ray guns
like Drukk's and they were altogether more dangerous. Fortunately,
their aim was terrible and Drukk was able to eliminate them all
before they'd managed to hit anything except the walls of the
corridor and a couple of their own number.

Wayne was the last one out, jumping
down the metre or so to the ground and turning to give Drukk a
hand. Standing in the open hatch, Drukk examined Wayne's
outstretched limb, pondering its meaning.

"Come on, Loosi, jump!"

Drukk looked at Wayne with all the
usual feelings of confusion these humans invoked in him. He puzzled
over the situation. For a start, why was Wayne even there? Everyone
thought they'd left the humans behind on their horrible planet. Now
he was beginning to accept that they'd somehow stowed away on the
Vessel of the Spirit
. And not just Wayne and Sam but loads
of them! Was this what humans did? Infest spaceships like
Zanghooplian space weevils? And then there was this frenzied urge
to leave the ship. What sense did that make after taking the
trouble to infest it in the first place?

"Loosi, please. You have to
hurry."

Drukk looked on in consternation as
Wayne jiggled up and down in his excitement, keeping an arm pointed
at Drukk and looking back and forth between him and his
fast-disappearing fellows. Then there was the behaviour of the
maintenance bots. Now that was very peculiar! First he'd seen them
bringing the humans food, then they'd drawn knives and were
threatening them! He'd never seen such a thing in all his years in
the Space Corps. Bots were just, well, bots! Harmless, helpful
little things that fetched you bowls of krappasoop when you had a
long watch, or hurried in to clean up your krappasoop when you
accidentally dozed off and spilled it on the floor. They didn't
form armed gangs and chase you through the corridors trying to kill
you.

"Loosi! Will you come on? There'll
be more of those crazy little machines along in a minute. We've got
to get away."

"I should be getting back to my
duties now." It seemed like the sensible thing. This was all very
weird but then everything to do with humans was weird. It was good,
really, that they were going. Then Drukk could get back to...
to...

"Your duties? Your duties? Are you
out of your fucking mind? The ship's full of killer robots. You
just helped us escape. Whoever's controlling those machines will
hunt you down and carve you up!"

Hmmm
, thought Drukk.
There it is again.
There was that something that had been
nagging at him for days. Something was wrong with everything,
really, not just the humans. Ships shouldn't fly by themselves.
Spacers should be more than just useless passengers. Maintenance
bots shouldn't try to kill people.

A scuttling sound behind him made
him turn just in time to see two maintenance bots creeping up on
him, holding a large net between them. As soon as he saw them, they
rushed him and he stepped back in surprise, stumbling over the sill
of the hatch and toppling backwards out of the ship. With
unheard-of presence of mind, Wayne rushed forward to catch his
beautiful friend, not properly appreciating the higher density of
the transformed Vinggan body, nor the slightly higher gravity of
the planet To'egh, until Drukk landed on him like a very large sack
of potatoes, smashing him to the ground and crushing the wind out
of him.

Glad that the human had
fortuitously broken his fall, Drukk got quickly to his feet. The
bots threw the net in a last, desperate attempt to snag him but
Drukk shot it in mid-air and then shot the bots. Seeing more
appearing in the corridor, he reached up and licked the manual
override splashboard, closing the hatch. Wayne was still on the
ground, gasping and moaning. Drukk watched him for a moment in
silence. "I think you are right, Wayne. I should probably go." He
set off after the others for a few paces before he realised he was
alone, then turned back to see Wayne climbing shakily to his feet,
clutching his head. "Are you coming, or have you decided to stay
after all?"

Grimly, without a word, Wayne
forced himself into motion.

-oOo-

The first Shorty and her gang knew
about Constable Collins' cunning plan was when utes and four-wheels
started driving out of the trees towards them.

"What do you think they're up to
Boss?" Fats wondered. The vehicles were still a good way off but
they were definitely moving towards them.

"I dunno!" Shorty snapped. "You
think I'm clairvoyant or something?"

"Sorry Boss, I just thought..."

"Well don't! Come on, let's go over
there, out of their way."

Shorty had been in a bad mood ever
since they shot the humans the other day. Her guys hadn't noticed
much – she was always in a bad mood about something – but Shorty
felt it as a gnawing anxiety, eating away at her.

For three hundred years she and her
gang had been exiled on this rock with no-one ever suspecting what
they really were. Now, in the space of a few weeks they had twice
been in a gunfight with the humans. They'd been seen. They'd killed
loads of the stupid creatures. Worse still, they had these damned
Vinggan weapons strapped to their wrists. They might as well have
big red-and-white targets painted on their fat rumps! Yes, the
humans were stupid. Yes, they'd gone about as far from human
settlement as they possibly could and still be able to find enough
to eat. But the humans weren't all that stupid and, these days,
nowhere was so far away that you weren't tripping over the
ridiculous creatures everywhere you went.