buggers some manners, eh? I’ve wanted to give them a good pounding for a while, you know. Likewise Susan.’ He took another swig. ‘She can’t stand them either.’
W looked around the room. The rest of the Deepspace Operations Group were nowhere to be seen. This was unusual, since Susan, as second in command and beam gun operator, tended to act for Wainscott as a cross between an interpreter and psychiatric nurse. Perhaps the others had built their own tunnels and were training their own badgers.
‘They went to Butlins,’ Wainscott said. ‘They wanted to go on the water slides. It only seemed fair after they blew up the Fortress of Iron.’
‘Of course. But I’ll need them on board.’
Wainscott leaned forward, setting his deckchair creaking, and rubbed his hands together. ‘So then, what is this job? Lemmings, Ghasts, collaborators?’
‘It’s a peace conference.’
‘What?’
Carefully, W outlined the situation. He tried to be tactful, to set out the importance of the meeting and its potential benefits, but Wainscott looked at first perplexed, then unconvinced, and finally slightly murderous. He scowled into his beard.
‘That’s all very well,’ Wainscott said, ‘but there’s a war on. Do we really want foreigners and aliens involved?’
‘Head office thinks so. Apparently the Great Powers need better co-ordination to fight more effectively. And then we’ve got the treaty between the Empire and the Vorl to think about. It needs to be formalised as soon as possible.’
‘Hmm. I don’t like it. I mean, aliens are one thing, but abroad ? Is that really necessary? There are too many people on Earth who can’t tell the difference between gormless militarism and military effectiveness. They don’t realise that to beat Gertie you need to become less like him, not more like him.’
‘Well, quite. We won’t tolerate any beastliness –’
‘And another thing about abroad.’ Wainscott leaned forward, his voice sinking. ‘They make stuff up. You see that film last year about the Battle of Britain? Set in bloody Utah. You’re always banging on about objective truth – you know what I mean. But perhaps we should drag these fellows in, give ‘em a cup of tea and a biscuit and tell them not to give us any trouble, or else they’ll be getting a visit from the Morlock Rifles.’
‘That’s a bit much, Wainscott. Easy there.’
‘Alright, no biscuit.’
W tried not to grimace. ‘Look, Wainscott. Think of it as a holiday. A special sort of holiday where you don’t kill anyone or live off carrion. All we need to do is make sure things run smoothly. The visitors need to come to the conference, sign what’s required of them and leave in one piece. Easy. And if there is actually any trouble –’
Wainscott drove his fist into his grimy palm. ‘Not a problem. I know how to root out a conspiracy. Remember in London when I interrupted those villains plotting to kidnap children and nuns?’
‘What you interrupted was a full-dress rehearsal of The Sound of Music . You knocked out Baron von Trapp with a brown paper parcel and left half the cast tied up with string.’
‘So? What was wrong with that?’
‘Well, how long have you got? Suffice it to say that for quite a while you were not one of the Service’s favourite things.’
Wainscott settled back. ‘So, you’re asking me to trade in living in a hole with badgers for some sort of diplomatic shindig. There’d better be a bar.’
‘There is.’
‘Alright. I’m in.’ The major stood up, kicked his chair deftly, and left it folded against the wall.
‘Lead on.’
*
‘It's terrible,’ Carveth explained, hurrying along beside Smith. He strode quickly through the broad, tidy streets and she had to jog to keep up with him. ‘I went to the duty free because Suruk ate all my cosmetics last month.’ She held up a bag marked Rouge Trader . ‘And then I thought I'd get a pasty and half a dozen cans
W looked around the room. The rest of the Deepspace Operations Group were nowhere to be seen. This was unusual, since Susan, as second in command and beam gun operator, tended to act for Wainscott as a cross between an interpreter and psychiatric nurse. Perhaps the others had built their own tunnels and were training their own badgers.
‘They went to Butlins,’ Wainscott said. ‘They wanted to go on the water slides. It only seemed fair after they blew up the Fortress of Iron.’
‘Of course. But I’ll need them on board.’
Wainscott leaned forward, setting his deckchair creaking, and rubbed his hands together. ‘So then, what is this job? Lemmings, Ghasts, collaborators?’
‘It’s a peace conference.’
‘What?’
Carefully, W outlined the situation. He tried to be tactful, to set out the importance of the meeting and its potential benefits, but Wainscott looked at first perplexed, then unconvinced, and finally slightly murderous. He scowled into his beard.
‘That’s all very well,’ Wainscott said, ‘but there’s a war on. Do we really want foreigners and aliens involved?’
‘Head office thinks so. Apparently the Great Powers need better co-ordination to fight more effectively. And then we’ve got the treaty between the Empire and the Vorl to think about. It needs to be formalised as soon as possible.’
‘Hmm. I don’t like it. I mean, aliens are one thing, but abroad ? Is that really necessary? There are too many people on Earth who can’t tell the difference between gormless militarism and military effectiveness. They don’t realise that to beat Gertie you need to become less like him, not more like him.’
‘Well, quite. We won’t tolerate any beastliness –’
‘And another thing about abroad.’ Wainscott leaned forward, his voice sinking. ‘They make stuff up. You see that film last year about the Battle of Britain? Set in bloody Utah. You’re always banging on about objective truth – you know what I mean. But perhaps we should drag these fellows in, give ‘em a cup of tea and a biscuit and tell them not to give us any trouble, or else they’ll be getting a visit from the Morlock Rifles.’
‘That’s a bit much, Wainscott. Easy there.’
‘Alright, no biscuit.’
W tried not to grimace. ‘Look, Wainscott. Think of it as a holiday. A special sort of holiday where you don’t kill anyone or live off carrion. All we need to do is make sure things run smoothly. The visitors need to come to the conference, sign what’s required of them and leave in one piece. Easy. And if there is actually any trouble –’
Wainscott drove his fist into his grimy palm. ‘Not a problem. I know how to root out a conspiracy. Remember in London when I interrupted those villains plotting to kidnap children and nuns?’
‘What you interrupted was a full-dress rehearsal of The Sound of Music . You knocked out Baron von Trapp with a brown paper parcel and left half the cast tied up with string.’
‘So? What was wrong with that?’
‘Well, how long have you got? Suffice it to say that for quite a while you were not one of the Service’s favourite things.’
Wainscott settled back. ‘So, you’re asking me to trade in living in a hole with badgers for some sort of diplomatic shindig. There’d better be a bar.’
‘There is.’
‘Alright. I’m in.’ The major stood up, kicked his chair deftly, and left it folded against the wall.
‘Lead on.’
*
‘It's terrible,’ Carveth explained, hurrying along beside Smith. He strode quickly through the broad, tidy streets and she had to jog to keep up with him. ‘I went to the duty free because Suruk ate all my cosmetics last month.’ She held up a bag marked Rouge Trader . ‘And then I thought I'd get a pasty and half a dozen cans
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