Ten Little Aliens: 50th Anniversary Edition (4 page)

Age:
25

Visual:
Black female

She rose out of the
slums of Paris II
, climbed through the ranks in Stellar Infantry and things are still looking up for
fantastic gymnastic
Gisel Denni, who has received
zero demerits
since starting Academy. She’s out to
go far. Far out.

In her own words:

THE ONLY GOOD SCHIRR IS
++
‘one that toes the line’

Age:
30

Visual:
White male

You saw him
shot down in flames
just this very afternoon, but this Shade ain’t no shadow of his former self. ’Course, that’s not so hard when you consider he started active service as a
Royal Escort
back on
dear old Mama Earth
before going to war in U.S. Pan-Galactic. Went Elite after ten months in medicare, but
needs serious merits
now if he wants to make the grade… Hey,
have a good war
, soldier!

In his own words:

THE ONLY GOOD SCHIRR IS
++
‘adam shade unavailable’

Age:
28

Visual:
White female

From
humble beginnings
serving in Little Europe with the Luxdirigibles, the so-called Pauper Fleet, Lindey
rose out of troubled waters
thanks to a scholarship to the Zero-Gs. After five years’ combat in low-grav environments, Lindey traded walking on air for dry land when she won an
unheard-of second scholarship
to go Elite.

In her own words:

THE ONLY GOOD SCHIRR IS
++
‘stuffed with frag-grenades and delivered to the Spook Quadrant’

Age:
33

Visual:
Oriental male

Shel joins Academy Elite as
Marshal Haunt’s adjutant and science officer
on Personnel Exchange from the
Japanese Belt
, where his exploits have been deemed CLASSIFIED. Spooky!

In his own words:

THE ONLY GOOD SCHIRR IS
++
‘I have no time to comment’

Age:
39

Visual:
White female

Scourge of the Schirr
on
twenty worlds
from Idaho to New Jersey, if our beloved Staff Head ever wore all her hard-won medalwear
she’d need anti-gravs just to keep her upright
. Joined Elite after making Marshal following
15 years of front-line service
. Served in
every war zone
going, and
survived
everything the Schirr could throw at her. Now she’s
throwing YOU back at them
, soldier. Be
worth it
, now, y’hear?

In her own words:

THE ONLY GOOD SCHIRR IS
++
‘
Good
and
Schirr
do not belong in the same breath, soldier. They don’t even belong in the same
head
. The only possible good in the universe is
absence of Schirr
. Not absent hiding out in some stinking pit in the outer rim, not turning invisible like some damned Spook, but dead, wiped out,
burnt
out. And we didn’t start that fire, soldier, but we are going to stamp it out and stamp the
Schirr
out, so hard that in 20 years no man, woman or child will have the first conception of what those stinking, sticky-faced ++

[space exceeded]

GROUP GREET @ 22 HUNDRED ++ THEATRE TEN ++

STUDENTS WISHING TO GRADUATE ARE REMINDED TO
STAY ALIVE
THRU TRAINING ++

C
HAPTER
T
WO

A
PPOINTMENT WITH
D
EATH

I

BEN LOOKED AT
Polly and narrowed his eyes. ‘You saying I’ve got a cold wet nose and floppy ears?’

Polly rolled her eyes but she was smiling, her straight white teeth framed by crimson lips. ‘You know what I mean,’ Polly went on in her
oh-so-frightfully
tones. ‘People are either dog people or cat people. And you’re a dog.’

‘Yeah, well, reckon I know how you’d take it if I called
you
one,’ Ben retorted.

‘I’m a cat person,’ Polly declaimed, running slender fingers through her long blonde hair.

‘Thought you reckoned you were just the whiskers on the thing, not the whole moggy.’

‘I just mean I make my own way, that’s all. Independent.’

Ain’t that the truth, Ben thought wryly to himself. They’d shared a few adventures now since leaving London, thanks to the TARDIS’s dodgy compass, and throughout it all Polly was always making out she could look after herself all right. No need for Ben to look out for her, oh no. But he knew better. Well, it stood to reason. With the navy he’d seen so much, been so many places, learned how to handle himself. All she’d known were Beaujolais Nouveau parties, poncy nightclubs and finishing school in South Ken until they’d fallen in with the Doctor on his batty travels through time and space.

‘You’d be a bulldog.’ Polly laughed. ‘Or a terrier. Tenacious little Ben, always pulling life’s trouser leg!’

‘All right, all right,’ Ben said a little touchily. He was very aware he was hardly a giant among men, especially since Polly was taller than him by a good inch. ‘What about the Doctor, then?’

‘Cat person or dog person?’ Polly enquired with a wicked smile. ‘He’s more of an old buzzard, don’t you think?’

Her smile dropped suddenly as a door shut loudly behind her.

‘This “old buzzard” has excellent hearing, my girl, quite excellent, yes,’ the Doctor fussed as he walked back into the console room. The old boy was a real mystery, but it seemed his life was just one long adventure that he was willing to share with his mates. For Ben, that was all you needed to know.

This gleaming monochrome complex was his home. And it suited him. Quite a black-and-white character, the Doctor, Ben decided. Not just his appearance – swept-back silver hair, black frock coat, white wing-collared shirt and grey trousers – but in the way he saw things. A sort of suffer-no-fools and take-no-prisoners outlook that put Ben in mind of an old granddad of his, one who’d maybe lost a few marbles in the trenches.

The Doctor began flicking switches on the pentagonal console. His hands waved uncertainly over various sections before his bony fingers stabbed and twisted at the controls with sudden precision.

The column in the middle of the console’s set-up started to slow. The Doctor steepled his fingers and smiled benignly at his two companions, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘We should soon be landing.’

‘Where?’ asked Ben.

The old man’s faced clouded in confusion. He turned back to his controls.

Ben turned to Polly. ‘Never mind the buzzard, Duchess,’ he whispered. ‘Reckon he’s got the memory of a goldfish.’

*

II

Shade felt the bridge shudder as the retros kicked in. The vibration made him feel sick, and he put this down to the sleep drug. The ‘crew’s snooze’, Joiks had called it. Funny.

He couldn’t believe they still used needles to inject the serum, or that they laid them on these slabs afterwards like corpses in a morgue. Then again, he couldn’t believe an ancient pile of scrap like this lousy space frigate was still being flown by anyone, let alone the military. No quarters – just a bridge and a cargo hold. A ship small enough to blip past any radar, and to drive anyone trapped on board mad in under a week. Especially with Joiks and his one-liners there for the ride.

However they got the drug, Shade thanked God for it. The month had passed in the time it took to close his eyes. That made the worst hangover he’d had in his life a little more bearable.

Now ten of them were strapped into the couches in a punchy silence, staring at the central viewscreen.

Marshal Haunt was in the middle. She craned her head like the rest of them at the dull grey rock that filled the viewscreen. Her skin shared its drab pallor. Both her hands were twitching, like they were still trying to wake up.

‘It’s been a while,’ she muttered dryly as she faced the group. ‘Everyone still remember who they are?’

Shade’s head lolled back, he closed his eyes.

‘Everyone still remember who
I
am?’ Haunt’s voice hardened a little.

‘Think so, Marshal Haunt,’ Joiks said. ‘Didn’t you kick Shade’s ass back in Theatre One?’

Shade smiled through gritted teeth at the ensuing round of applause and cheers. All the shock, the violence of the event had been sublimated already into humour. It had meant nothing. Like killing meant nothing to soldiers, provided you killed the
right
people. But Shade hadn’t forgotten. Shade could never forget anything.

I’ll show you
.

Only Denni didn’t laugh. Perhaps she felt as bad as she looked right now.

Haunt didn’t seem too amused either. ‘I was simply sending a message to everyone in that room,’ she said calmly. ‘Perhaps you didn’t grasp that message. Perhaps I need to demonstrate again.’

Joiks shook his head and did his best to look pious.

‘All right. Round the room. Who are you? Why are you here?’ She lay back, muttered the words like she’d said them a hundred times before on missions like this, leading her lambs off to slaughter or be slaughtered. ‘I don’t want your ranks, your full names and life history. And forget I know some of you already. Today you’re all school kids and I’m your teacher. Just give me enough so I can yell abuse at your sorry asses with confidence.’

Haunt’s latest adjutant began the introductions. ‘Shel,’ he said. ‘Fifth Division Heavy Infantry, Japanese Belt.’ He might look oriental but he spoke perfect American. ‘Here on interpersonnel exchange program.’

Exchanging what? Shade wondered. What was so classified about his past? He’d barely given away more than the e-rag had in his b-ground profile.

‘Next,’ rapped Haunt.

‘Joiks.’

‘We were trying to forget you, Joiks,’ Shade interrupted. He got fewer laughs. Figured.

‘Yeah, yeah. Joiks. Space Marine Corps. Here so I can kill Schirr scum better.’

‘Good,’ Haunt said automatically. ‘Next.’

‘Tovel. Pilot-Engineer with the Peace Keeper Volunteers, Commonwealth Belt.’ Shade had forgotten how surprisingly soft the stocky man’s voice was since they’d fought droids
together
in Term One, but not his tufty blond hair and his chin – so square you could fit a palmscreen in it with room to spare.

‘For two weeks after the Schirr hit New Jersey I ferried out the dead and dying.’ Tovel shrugged. ‘Joined the regulars and that’s why I’m here.’

A massive black guy lay beside him, his feet dangling off the edge of the couch, a big, taut sack of muscle and attitude. Shade had seen him around – you could hardly miss him. His head was broad and bald, his features bunched up in the middle of his face.

‘Roba. Peace Keeper, like Tovel.’

‘You two come as a pair, honey?’ Frog asked, her jangling voice exploding into the fuggy atmosphere.

‘We’re close,’ Roba said, ‘but we never tried that before.’

Frog cackled, leading the fresh wave of laughter. But Shade couldn’t relax, couldn’t let his gaze shift for long from the lumpy planetoid in the viewscreen.

‘You a “pilot-engineer” too?’ Lindey asked Roba.

‘No. Marksman.’ He pointed his finger like it was a gun and fired at her.

‘Next,’ Haunt said dully.

‘My name is Creben.’ He smiled and paused like he wanted applause. ‘Graduated from Academy Intelligence last year. Need combat experience to rise higher so I’ve gone Elite. Naturally.’

Shade’s initial dislike of the man deepened to loathing.

‘Hey, Shadow, come on,’ Lindey called. ‘Your turn to bore us.’

‘Name’s Shade. Joined up with Earth Ceremonials –’

‘Hey, Shadow, you an Earther?’ Frog asked, as if this was news to her. Everyone roared with laughter.

‘Normally we don’t stand on ceremonial,’ Joiks added confidentially to Tovel. ‘But for him we make an exception.’

‘You’re funny.’ Haunt’s voice steamrollered over the laughter. ‘Can we finish this before landing please?’

Shade indicated Denni should take her turn. He didn’t want
to
elaborate on his history anyway. It was better this way, even if the new guys thought he was the butt of the squad. Still, Haunt had spoken up for him. That was interesting. Guilty conscience?

Denni, Lindey and Frog all said their snappy little bits. Yeah, yeah, they struggled against the odds growing up on crummy worlds, they were here to save Empire, personally round up DeCaster and his evil disciples and kick Morphiea’s ass single-handed; that was what going Elite did for you, right? Who was here for a career, for the housing benefits, for a dacha in the Thai systems when you were pensioned off?

He had all that waiting whenever he wanted it.

‘Me, I’m Haunt.’ Shade looked up. ‘Any of you ever visit Idaho?’ she said, her face a pale mask. No one spoke. ‘It’s a good clean world. I remember when we took it. Tamed the Schirr, brought them into our order. Made them a part of an Empire they could be proud of.’