Wrath of the Lemming-men (13 page)

Dreckitt drew his pistol. ‘Trapped! Those cheap punks’ve scammed us!’

Smith frowned. ‘In which case,’ he said, ‘follow me.’ He threw open one of the doors leading off the passage and stormed in. ‘Hands up, everybody!’

In the light of a dozen computer screens, two men raised their hands.

‘You there, computer people,’ Smith said, nodding at the nearer and fatter of the two. ‘I need your help. This is a matter of extreme importance to the security of the British Empire. As employees of the Leighton-Wakazashi Company, which is subject to British law, I am commandeering you to – what’re you looking at?’ he glanced to his right. ‘Ah, yes. This is my colleague, Suruk the Slayer, a Morlock. He is a noted warrior and decent fellow and—’

‘It’s a girl!’ said the fat man.

His friend, still sitting at his desk, nodded. ‘A real one,’ he whispered. ‘With – you know—’ He made a gesture in front of his chest.

‘Quiet!’ Smith barked. ‘Now listen closely. We need those security doors outside lifted. We are on a mission of utmost urgency.’

‘Yeah, as if,’ said the thin man. Now that the shock of their arrival had passed, his voice had become tired and slightly contemptuous. ‘Can’t do it. Those are director-controlled only. Even if you did bypass the anti-hack firewall without neural blowout – which you couldn’t do – the grid it’s running on’s parallel, so you can’t jump from one to the other. I programmed that,’ he added to Rhianna. ‘I could show you how it works sometime.’

Smith glanced at Dreckitt. ‘You’re an android – did you understand any of that?’

Dreckitt nodded. ‘Sure. In layman’s terms, he’s saying that if you want the little dame busted out it’s nix but an inside job. The joint’s sewn up tighter than a Bay City caboose.’

Puzzled, Smith looked to Rhianna.

‘It’s all about the flow of negative energy—’ she began.

‘Not so!’ Suruk put in. ‘Mazuran, imagine the fierce beasts of two hunting packs, bound together in a network of blood—’

‘Everyone, please!’

They fell silent, waiting for Smith to speak.

‘Our friend is trapped in the data library, deep below here. We have to talk to her – urgently. Do you know how to do that?’

The thin man’s fingers clattered over the keyboard. ‘Nope, can’t do it, line’s down. Place is sealed up. There’s two life forms in there, but the door’s jammed from the looks of it.’

Suruk was leaning against the wall, arms folded.

‘Perhaps this man could help us.’ The M’Lak pointed to a picture on the wall. It showed a pixie holding a massive blunderbuss. ‘He could burst the door with his hackbut.’

‘That’s not a real person,’ Smith said. ‘It’s some character from
Galaxy of Battles
, a computer game. It’s only a pretend hackbut.’ Something touched Smith’s arm and he glanced round. ‘What is it, Dreckitt?’

‘Wait,’ Dreckitt said. The dim glow of screens gave his face an unhealthy, sepulchral look. ‘There is something. Polly told me she had an account. All the machines here are wired to
Galaxy of Battles
. I’ll guard the doors, and you could. . . enter the matrix.’

‘Sorry?’ Smith said. ‘It sounds unnatural.’

Suruk’s eyes widened slightly. ‘I have heard of such things. Computers linked for the sharing of images of nude human females. We can turn this evil to our own ends! Quick, let us don the helms of virtuality – and rescue Piglet!’

Rhianna folded her arms and peered at the pictures on the wall. ‘It looks kind’ve. . . puerile. All the women have really demeaning outfits. Can’t I help Polly without having to look like some kind of teenage fantasy-figure?’

‘Carveth needs us,’ Smith replied. ‘We must all make sacrifices, Rhianna. If Suruk and I are willing to expose ourselves to death and danger, you must be willing to expose yourself to. . . um. . . us. Dreckitt, watch the doors. Suruk – fetch the hats!’

Smith opened the door of his level-one hovel and stepped into the sunlight. Rhianna was waiting for him.

They stood on the edge of a forest. Ahead, the fields rolled away to a rather-too-perfect sunset. Something large and multi-winged flapped its way across the sky.

The dusk made Smith’s armour glow.
Galaxy of Battles
had analysed his brain activity, giving him an appearance suited to his personality: he wore a breast-plate, mail shirt and leggings and there was a sword at his waist. Smith thought that he looked rather dashing.

Rhianna crossed her arms and huffed. It was surprising how much decoration they could fit on so small a metal bathing suit, Smith reflected. She sported a staff, a kind of tea-towel that hung between her legs and a look of deep annoyance.

‘Hello there,’ Smith said.

‘I feel totally objectivised,’ Rhianna said. ‘I wanted to be a druid. Druids don’t dress like this.’

‘You’ve got leaves in your hair.’

‘That is not druidism, Isambard! Druidism is an authentic pre-Christian religion. This is me, cold, in a metal bikini. If I’d have wanted a piece of chain up my ass I’d have sat on a bathplug. I only hope Polly has not been put through this indignity.’

Smith felt that he ought to calm the situation. ‘You do look jolly nice, though,’ he suggested.

‘Huh!’ Rhianna snorted and turned her back. On the minus side, he seemed to be in her bad books again.

On the plus side, she had been absolutely right about the underwear. Fantastic. Why did women have to be so difficult?

‘Right then,’ he declared. ‘Time to find Carveth. Any thoughts?’

Suruk stepped out of the trees. The programme had given Suruk a savage appearance: he wore a dented patchwork of armour, and his exposed skin was a lattice of scars. Bones and trophies hung from his belt; knives were strapped to every available surface of his body. He looked much the same as usual. ‘Behold!’ he declared.

They turned: behind the hovel was a very large white castle. Unicorns grazed on its lawns, minded by strapping young grooms. Flashing lights stretched between the gaudy turrets. They spelt out the words:
Princess Polly’s
Magic Castle
.

Suruk pointed. ‘There, perhaps?’

Carveth was back in the data library, looking for a weapon.

The only thing that could have worked was a screwdriver, now wedged into the door controls to stop Emily getting in.

Even that would not hold for long. Croquet and vigorous social dancing had left her cunning and tough.

‘Open the door this minute, young lady! I will not hesitate in inflicting crippling malfunctions!’

‘Shove it up your crinoline!’ Carveth shouted back.

Emily paused. ‘I have food out here,’ she called. ‘A most diverting rack of lamb. I could have Cook save you some, if you agree to come out. . .’

‘Jump in a lake!’

‘Venture out, you pint-sized slattern, or I’ll fix it so you never waltz again!’

With a calmness that surprised her, Carveth looked through the door at the refined, furious face pressed against the glass. ‘I will,’ she said. ‘But only if you tell me what’s on those files.’

‘You perused the files,’ Emily retorted. ‘I thought it was obvious.’

‘I didn’t see them.’

‘Sales,’ Emily said. ‘Commerce. Nasty things like that. Selling things to some dreary moon-people for some war or other.’

‘What things?’

‘Oh, information. Some piffle about Lloyd Leighton. Goodness knows. Anyway,’ she added, cheering up, ‘enough chatter.’

She had been fiddling with the controls, Carveth realised. The door shook but did not open, but whatever Emily was doing to it she was not far from gaining access.

‘I’ve rewired the door panel, Polly. It would be far easier for both of us if you’d let me in.’

‘Stick—’ the screen flickered at the corner of her eye. A picture was forming there, a dragon, and above it a message:
Captain Smith and Rhianna are online
. Carveth grabbed the controls.

Smith’s feet were silent on the thick red carpet. In the castle foyer, a baby dragon fluttered between the chandeliers, trailing sparkling dust like radioactive farts.

‘So this is where the ship’s computer budget went,’ he said.

Suruk growled. ‘Hear me, Mazuran,’ he said. ‘I have fought in foul places, on a hundred worlds, but never have I been anywhere that grieved me as much as the inside of the little woman’s head. How can there be so many ponies and so little dung? This is the Abyss.’

‘Carveth designed it,’ Smith said. ‘We can only hope she realises that we’re here.’ Before I go completely mad, he thought.

At the far end of the hall the carpet rose over a set of steps. At the top of the steps was a thick curtain.

Smith reached for his sword. Suruk made his purring, croaking sound.

Beside him, Rhianna said, ‘It’s. . . um. . . kind of tacky, isn’t it?’

Lights flared up around the steps. The great curtains rolled back to reveal a small figure in a ballgown and a tiara slightly smaller than a radio mast. Princess Polly hovered a few inches from the ground: she floated towards them down the stairs.

‘Hello Boss,’ said Carveth. ‘Welcome to my. . . uh. . .castle.’ She glanced around, a little embarrassed, and fluttered her fairy wings. ‘Look, I’m stuck in this little room and there’s this crazy android who thinks she’s Jane Austen trying to kill me with a biro – I know this sounds strange–’

‘Not here it doesn’t. Listen, Carveth,’ Smith said. ‘We’re coming to get you out. But we need the information you downloaded. Can you pass it to us here?’

She glanced around. ‘Well, alright. Here you go.’

Carveth reached to her side and took out a magic wand.

She pressed a button, and the star on the end flashed into life. ‘I give you data,’ she said, tapping Smith on the head with it. ‘You’d better work quick. If you’ve got a gun I could borrow. . .’

Smith glanced down. ‘I’ve got a sword,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think it’ll work in real life.’

‘
I
know!’ Rhianna exclaimed. ‘Polly, true empower-ment comes from
knowledge
, not weapons.’ She raised her hand: the palm glowed with green light. Rhianna touched Carveth’s shoulder. ‘The Ancient Arts of the East,’ Rhianna said.

‘Thanks,’ Carveth replied. ‘I’d better go. Wish me luck!’

The screen went dead. Carveth’s eyes flicked open. She disconnected the terminal and looked around the archive room.

‘I know Feng Shui,’ she said. ‘Well, that’s just
great
.’

Smith took off the helmet and turned to the programmers.

‘You there: send that data to our ship on the landing pad and copy it to the Imperial Navy. Tell them to send a dreadnought at once.’

‘Or I splice your mainframe,’ Suruk added, eyeing the computers. They typed.

Smith stepped into the corridor. ‘How’s things, Dreckitt?’

The bounty hunter stood by the pressure door at the end of the passage, trying to pick the lock. ‘Almost done. . .That’s it!’ Dreckitt exclaimed and the pressure door slid open. ‘Let’s go!’

Smith ushered Rhianna in. An alarm sounded from outside. Smith slipped into the door after the others.

Dreckitt jabbed at the controls and the door slammed shut behind them. Smith blasted the lock.

‘Now then,’ he said, ‘let’s find Carveth.’

Carveth dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled under the console. She felt terribly vulnerable: Emily could be in at any moment, wielding her fountain pen, and if that happened, Carveth knew she would fare better without her backside in the air.

Carveth’s hands found what she was looking for: the plug. She yanked it out of the wall and the computer and the winking lights went off. In the dark, she could hear the fans powering down as if she stood in a huge, disconnected amplifier.

Quickly, she wheeled the chair to where it would be guaranteed to create negative vibes and laid it on its side.

Then, she picked up the bible-sized
Galaxy of Battles
instruction manual.

The door shot open like a greyhound trap and Emily rushed into the room and fell over Carveth’s chair.

Carveth heard a prim voice cry ‘Shite!’ and she raised the manual and brought it down hard on Emily’s bonnet.

Emily made a garbled malfunctioning noise, tried to rise, and Carveth hit her again. ‘Read this, Regency bitch!’

Emily froze, stiffened and said, ‘A remarkable prize bullock—’ and dropped onto the floor like a landed fish.

Carveth stared down at her, panting.

The loudspeaker crackled into life in the corridor outside. ‘This is HMS
Hampson
, dreadnought of the British Space Empire. You are to drop your weapons and surrender or we will commence orbital diplomacy. You will cease your nonsense at once. I repeat:
at once
.’

Carveth glanced round and saw Smith in the doorway, pistol in hand. ‘Are you alright?’ he called.

‘I’m fine,’ Carveth replied. ‘I knocked her out cold. Actually,’ she added as Dreckitt entered the little room, ‘I’m not fine at all. Swooning!’

She collapsed. Dreckitt was left with no choice but to catch her. ‘Easy, lady,’ Dreckitt said. ‘Let’s get you upright – hey, hands, hands!’

Dreckitt holstered his pistol and rubbed his backside.

His arm around the unsteady Carveth, he helped her from the room. They stepped past Smith and Rhianna and started down the corridor. Carveth looked back and gave the others a broad, wide-awake grin.

‘Poor old Dreckitt,’ Smith said.

‘I think it’s kind’ve sweet,’ Rhianna said.

Smith looked at her. He realised that he didn’t know what she meant. Was this an insinuation? Was Rhianna saying that she missed him? That she wanted someone else? He felt a sudden rush of anger and, with it, despair.

Damn her and the whole bloody woman business! The sooner he was back in space and fighting in proper company the better, drinking gin and blasting holes in Gertie, with Wainscott on one side and—

Suruk strolled into the corridor, mandibles open, beaming. His spear was in one hand, and something football-sized and gory was in the other. ‘Greetings! Look what I acquired!’

‘Oh Buddha,’ Rhianna groaned.