The Fourteenth Adjustment

by Robert Wingfield

  “Well… I hoped.” The Magus splashed along beside her.

  “And you’d be advised to call your men off.” Luigi put a choke hold on the leader’s neck. Rannie was now banging the man on the head with her royal umbrella.

  “Enough!” The Blurgar shouted. “Men, lay down your arms.”

  “Had abundance then?” Basil paddled up, and menaced him with the rusty hilt of his sword.

  “Of course. You win. Please don’t slay any more of my men. Basil, you are truly the slayer of Blurgars, ruler of this planet. I, Len Swipes, leader of the seven tribes and part time optometrist, can but only declare fealty and free eye tests. My co-ruler and dear sister, Faye, does likewise, even though she likes a fight. Faye, where are you? Come out and declare allegiance to our new leader.”

  Basil looked thoughtfully at the trampled barbarians and then checked a soggy notebook. “I suppose that is my slaying quota complete for today,” he said, and put a tick at the side of the item on his list. “What’s next? I see: reincarnation, tick, paddling with card sharks, tick, plunder, no, pillage, maybe, rebuild the army, perhaps, get married, possibly.”

  Len fell to his knees, offering up his sword in surrender. Basil took it and tested it with a few trial swings, one of which removed the crest from the barbarian’s helmet. “Nice and sharp; good. I accept your surrender. So be it, Len, I give you your life, on the condition that you will now work for me. I may have a problem with trespass theft back in Basilopolis, since I’ve been away so long, so I need some trained people to police that.” He pulled out his imperial looking-glass and grunted at his appearance. “I also seem to have a bit of an acne problem, probably caused by being in suspended animation for a thousand years or so. Do you know anyone who can help?”

  “I, my liege,” said one of the soldiers, who, now that one looked more closely, was considerably less hirsute than the others, even though she was wearing identical armour, and had a muddy hoof-print on her stomach.

  “And who are you?” Basil leered at her, and extended his hand for her to kiss.

  “Faye, sister to Len the Mighty,” she said, rubbing hand cream into Basil’s skin, “and part-time dermatologist. Look at these cuticles. I can see you need my help. Now, will you stop those fay beasts trampling our soldiery? We cannot swear fealty properly if we are compacted in mud.”

  “Good point,” said Basil, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the upper body of his captive. “Call the animals off, Magus.”

  “I don’t know how,” said the Magus, watching more of the Blurgar soldiers being tossed in the air by angry bovines.

  “You could try whistling,” said Rannie, with a grin. “You know how to whistle, don’t you? You just put your lips together, and blow.”

  The Magus’ face went red with the effort.

  “And don’t follow through.”

  A loud, and sadly wet, fart sounded around the battlefield. The doku froze in mid-gore—the reverberation was something they all recognised, it being a vibration they produced themselves, rather well—and galloped back to the Magus. They milled around, all attempting to nuzzle him at the same time.

  “They are invincible,” said Len, getting to his feet. “But how can we not defend ourselves against them?”

  “My guess is that it is a feature of doku-hair,” said Rannie, climbing down from Luigi’s shoulders. “It seems to instantly adapt to its environment. As its environment at that time was one full of spears, it had to become impervious to those too.”

  “I could use a coat of that,” said Basil.

  “We could come to an arrangement,” said Rannie, ever the businesswoman. “I also have a fine range of stick-on tattoos which generate electricity from sweat. Judging by these lads here, you could use the created power for portable showers, and torches to see through the murk. And as for an impervious coat...”

  The survivors of the tribes, and Basil’s meagre force, now returned from the border ditch, were standing sheepishly together, pushing and clapping each other across the back of the heads when they thought nobody was looking. There were murmurs of agreement concerning showers and lighting arrangements. Basil was holding the chief’s sister by the hand and gazing into her eyes. She was using a small spatula to improve his fingernails.

  “You seem to have plenty of money back at the palace, so you could perhaps afford to pay all these guys, so they can buy my electricity generating ‘tats’,” continued Rannie. “Oh, and the other condition is that you let Magus and me go on our way, with our extremities intact.”

  “Agreed,” said Basil absently, as Faye ran her fingers through his hair, and shook her head sadly.

  “And the other condition is that you provide us with troops to throw off the repression of the car-parking junta,” continued Rannie.

  “And you will get all your spectacles on prescription now,” said Len eagerly. “Did I mention I run a chain of opticians?”

  “I will also have the hand of your sister in marriage,” said Basil, seemingly coming to a decision as Faye’s breasts brushed his face.

  “It is your prerogative, if a little harsh,” said Len. “Come here, Faye. I’ll cut it off for you now, shall I? You are the victor on this dolorous day and I suppose that is a small fee to ask in exchange for our de-hoofing.”

  “Leave the hand; I will take all of your sister, if that is okay with you,” said Basil. “Will you be best man? We shall be married as soon as we enter Basilopolis. Maurice, is the cathedral of Hiya Gloria still standing after all this rain?”

  Maurice the Other Bastard had replaced the pontoon and now slunk up to Basil’s side.

  “Still standing, if a little dissolved, my emperor,” he said, “and also the shrine of Clarkson the Always Right, if you wish to do homage at the Wet Wall before you are conjoined. You should also nibble together at the Holy Shallot of Basilopolis, preserved through the centuries by the Virgins of Depp.”

  “Do we have to?” Basil and Faye were now gazing at each other.

  “It is the process, my liege, to save the relationship on your first date, by balancing your respective halitosis problems… whereupon, you may kiss the bride... and she won’t lose her dinner.”

  “I want to do it right,” said Basil. “And this onion will cement the union of the two most powerful forces on our sacred planet of Out. Are there any other requirements?”

  “And another condition,” continued Rannie, “is...”

  “I think that’s enough conditions in exchange for a coat,” said Basil. “I thank you for helping me defeat this burglar menace...”

  “Blurgar,” said Len.

  “Seriously?”

  “Blurgar. We are barbarian tribes, of a nomadic nature, searching for a new place to call home.”

  “Not burglar, then?”

  “No, we don’t nick stuff. We invade, kill, pillage, rape and burn. We don’t need to steal it.”

  “Then I think I may owe you an apology,” said Basil. “There has been a misunderstanding.”

  “No problem,” said Len. “You have shown us the error of our ways. When you marry my sister, we will be officially civilised, and ready to take our rightful place in the new empire, and perhaps be allowed to wear shirts. Where do I sign?”

  “We’ll be off then,” said the Magus. He reached the ditch, towing Rannie by her hand.

  “You’re leaving?” said Maurice, “and still with your facial features un-mutilated?”

  “You have a new rightful leader now,” said Rannie. “Unless you’d like to sign up for one of my Recalcitrance training courses.”

  The vizier shook his head.

  “That was a complete bastard thing to do to cut off our retreat when we were so outnumbered,” said the Magus.

  “I only did it to keep the men focused, and prevent the enemy from crossing into our territory. I knew you would win.”

  “Considerate as ever,” said Basil, joining them, with one arm around Len’s
shoulders and the other around Faye. “Come on, relatives; I want to show you round my capital. As chief of police, and my new wife-dermatologist respectively, you will need to know it intimately.”

  The Magus pulled the tarpaulin away from their parked Hynishota Superb. He opened the door, and a torrent of water gushed from the inside.

  “Did you leave the window open?” said Rannie.

  “Time to leave,” said the Magus, watching Luigi wiping the seat with a super-absorbent doku-cloth. “Perhaps the doku won’t follow us again. They seem to like the reed beds and boggy environment here, so maybe...”

  “And this regime will last until Basil finds he has put the tigers in charge of the zoo, and Len forgets his promise of fealty. I hope the marriage goes through quickly; Empress Faye has a nice ring to it.”

  “I should perhaps send Len one of the doku coats too,” said the Magus. “Might be wise to stay chummy with both sides.”

  SCT

  In which everybody double-deals

  V

  ac and the cylinder escapees sat with him and Tanda in the bar of the Bereavement Notable, drinking commiseration Fuksake. Their eyes were misted; one of the effects of the spirit.

  “This is bad,” he said.

  “This is terrible,” said the Magus, listening in on the STOP propaganda channel. “The Recalcitrance over, our leader murdered by the STOP junta, and the Fortune destroyed. We are lost. It seems the enemy have developed their own faster-than-doku drive. How else could the drones have found them so quickly?”

  Pete looked up from the pile of dented hardware that used to be P17. “I’ve nearly finished deprogramming this thing,” he said. “I can reconnect the wires to the loudspeaker and you can ask it yourself.”

  “Is it going to sell us out again?” said the Magus.

  “I’ve removed the ‘politician’ circuitry, so we can expect a straight answer, and I’ve cut the transmitter wires and removed the actuators on the drive, so we should be safe. Right, that’s it.” There was a click as he clipped a wire on to the speaker. “Go ahead and ask.”

  “What do you think, P17?” said Kara. “Could they have done it? Is there a traitor who has sold us out to STOP?”

  “A traitor from STOP, trying to ‘stop’ us, my dearest? You make me laugh; you always make me laugh. Is it any wonder I love you?”

  “Enough of the sloothering.” Kara clapped her hands. “You sold us out, so don’t come the smarmy with me.”

  “All in the past now, my sweetheart, forgiven and forgotten.”

  “It’s me who should be doing the forgiving. Indirectly though, you have been responsible for the death of Two-Dan, but I owe you for that. If you knew how many times I’ve tried to kill him, myself...”

  “My wish is your command, my treasure.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I didn’t say the reprogramming had been totally successful,” said Pete. “You may have to reorder the occasional word.”

  “Thanks, Pete. Right, P17, if you know anything about a traitor, I order you to tell me.”

  “Of course, my love. I find you will think that a certain Mr Errorcode has been working on his own enlargements.”

  “I thought that Mrs Tuesday was going to watch him, and make sure he behaved.”

  “STOP have been using her as an agent’s double. She thought she was sourcing components for domestic good-whites, know you, fridges, cookers, official whitewash and such, but Errorcode has been diverting them over to the Nishant Corporation, who have been droning the builds under licence. I was the last of those assembled in your own facility at SCT, and therefore the last of those given a personality. I have the plans for the new drive units in this add-on memory stick...”

  “Here.” Pete withdrew the device. “I didn’t remove it before, in case it was part of the operating systems, remote boot and all that...”

  “...the contents of which was left on bus and uploaded to the Galactinet to highlight the security protocols of laxness... only after STOP refused to pay for their return of course.”

  “That doesn’t explain how they got this new technology. Pete, what do you think?” said the Magus.

  “It’s my anti-gravity drive,” said Pete, peering at the screen, “along with a nasty computer virus to catch out anyone still using Windows XP… like banks, the health service and local government. We are okay of course, using my own version of the Antikythera 3.1 operating system.”

  “Whatever,” said Kara, tapping her foot. “Get on with it.”

  “It’s definitely my design. The engine uses phase-shifting with a ring of drives under the ship to get a vertical take-off. Once airborne, the ring reverses and kicks the ship upwards. The main drive then phases into another point in the universe. I was trying to get the guns to work on the same principle, phase shifting the enemy too. Mr $mith (sic) (bless him) would have loved it, because nobody gets hurt. I tested it out, but the prototype vessel disappeared.”

  “The data says that it shifted directly to Musoketeba,” said P17. “They used it as their pattern to drone their new pursuit builds.”

  “That doesn’t alter the fact,” said Tanda, “that our leader and inspiration is gone. Without him, we are lost, and we will have to tolerate extortionate parking charges or give up travel altogether.”

  “Nothing wrong with Skagos,” said Vac. “They are not bothering us. There are plenty of things we could be doing instead.” He grabbed Tanda’s arm and pulled her towards him. She slapped him.

  “Have you no sense of decency, determination and right?”

  “I’ll check, but I don’t think so. Thanks for asking, though.”

  “I have,” said the woman, “and I intend to carry on where Two-Dan left off. The Recalcitrance will continue. Who’s with me?”

  “Rannie and I’ll come too,” said the Magus. “That was my friend they murdered, and are going to display in formaldehyde. If nothing else, we should recover his remains and give them a proper burial. I think there are still a few niches left in the Uncanny Valley of the Emperors. He at least deserves one of those. Vac, can we borrow the Notable to get him back and perhaps wreak a bit of revenge?”

  “I suppose you can. Take Glowplug, who is our best pilot. My proper duty is to remain here and supervise the fertilisation of our new race.” He looked apologetic. “Bugger that. I’ll leave all the crap behind and come along for the fight.”

  “I’ll come too,” said Kara. “Despite my smugness programs still running, I actually feel a bit guilty about leaving Two-Dan to die. You might need the cylinder to escape in again.”

  “And I also,” said P17. “Where mistress goes, so I do.”

  The Bereavement Notable began the journey into the Sapristi Main using enhanced doku drives. The Magus had resigned himself to the fact that wherever he went, the doku herd would turn up, regardless. He had installed a substantial supply of hay in anticipation, and the beasts seemed to be content to remain in the cargo hold. This was a relief, as there was concern about the confined spaces in the rest of the accommodation. “I really don’t want a materialisation in my cabin,” he said to nobody in particular. “A creature weighing a ton, appearing in that confined space would play havoc with my Meissen collection.”

  With a steady supply of doku-hair, and a surprising litter of hexacat kittens they discovered in Kara’s shoe cupboard, there was enough raw material to produce several new banks of doku-drive units, which increased the cruising speed of the Notable to match the smaller ships already built in SCT’s new assembly plants on Skagos and Glenforbis. After clearing the runways at Glenodure Aerodrome, the problem now was getting more smaller craft to use as raw material, rather than the drive units for them. There was no longer a ready supply from Nishant, who appeared to be siding with STOP, so they were reduced to stealing used models from the increasing proliferation of car parks.

  The Astroturf, rolled up and rescued from the Fortune before the last escape, had been g
iven a decent burial on Skagos, and already, new and exotic plant life was springing up, including a delicious stand of Japanese Knotweed, which, when cooked, tasted exactly like asparagus, and was prolific enough to be considered for the famine relief programs on some of the less fortunate worlds. Rannie had already packaged some plants off to Dearheat Enterprises for distribution.

  As they departed, nobody noticed a freighter, displaying the STOP logo, on its descent towards the surface of Skagos. Captain Wang (no relation), of the Devious Fatherless Child, gave a smug smile and initialised the tarmac generation systems.

  Sapristi, looked dull and grey in the view from space. As the Notable neared, it seemed that most of the planet had been turned over to concrete and car parks. The one green space was out to sea, and was the old SCT Island. Even there though, it appeared that complexes of holiday accommodation were being cut into the jungle.

  The Magus sighed as he gazed at the developments. “I suppose I should go down and see what remains of the old company. See if I can get any of the engineers to help. There may be some clue as to where they have taken Two-Dan’s remains. Tanda, you and the others stay up here and monitor any troop movements approaching the island. Destroy them before they get to me. I might need some time.”

  “Are you in charge, “Tanda challenged. “You realise that means you have to take responsibility for the new Recalcitrance if you are captured. Are you sure you don’t want me on the surface with you? You may need help to stay alive.”

  “I work better alone,” said the Magus. “Is that your battle gear? It seems a little... skimpy.”

  “It gives me the edge,” she said. “The enemy will be too busy gawping at my curves to shoot me; a technique Kara-Tay uses.”

  “If you are going to wear that, you should certainly come,” said the Magus. “You can join me in the short-range Pig-Ugly. It might be a bit of a squeeze, but then I’m prepared for suffering... in the name of the Recalcitrance, of course.” He tried to peer down her shirt.