by Vance Huxley
Fenton looked round as Bobby came in. “Got all three, some Timers trying to shoot me and a couple of possibles who looked out of windows! Oh!” Sarge had followed Bobby in.
“Don’t put it that way when anyone asks you. Beebi will explain.” Sarge nodded towards Bobby and peeked out of the window. He took the Legion weapon and hefted it, then looked at the ammo. “Was there a sight with it, like I showed you?” Fenton fished it out of a pocket and handed it over wordlessly and Sarge went back to looking at the weapon and especially the ammo. Bobby quickly filled in Fenton about the rats and how many Supers they’d killed and why it might be a problem.
The boom of the weapon brought their attention back to Sarge. Sarge had refitted the sights, and apparently tried them out. “You seem to have nobbled our sniper.” Sarge held up a round. “This end bit, the lead slug, is the same as a shotgun solid round. It drove me crackers trying to work out how the basted could be so good with a shotgun.” He handed the long weapon back to Fenton. “Try it with the sight on. If the picture is blurry, rotate that, then put the crosshairs on the Frog’s nose, eye, whatever. Splat.” Fenton knelt at the side of the window and started playing with the sight. A few minutes later, while Bobby repeated the twirly thing through the grill in the corridor, the big rifle boomed again.
Harsh tones sounded right behind him. “Timer, that is an enemy weapon! Why are you touching enemy weapons?” The bledrin Super! “I should have known. Bobby B. Well I’ve got you this time.”
Bobby braced, carefully well to one side of the grill, and dropped the offending weapon. “Short of ammunition sir.” That wasn’t going to work. The Super looked even sterner as his eyes swept over the scatter of empty Frog clips on the floor then looked very pointedly at the pouches on Bobby’s belt, nearly all still full of unused clips. “Er.” The big gun boomed which saved Bobby for now, but then he realised that the bledrin rifle was a Frog weapon as well! Too late as the Super pushed the door open.
Bobby followed to find the Super with his shotgun pointed at Fenton, still knelt by the window. “Put down the weapon, Timer. Slowly.”
“Sir?” Sarge tried to get attention while standing at attention, but it didn’t work.
The Super looked at the empty brass scattered on the floor. “You and this other maniac are candidates for a Gaza Taxi, if I’m feeling generous. Just which part of don’t touch enemy weapons didn’t you understand? Shut up!” Fenton had opened his mouth to answer.
“Sir?” Sarge made a small gesture.
“And why didn’t you arrest them both? You could be driving the Taxi if this was your idea. Well?” Bobby didn’t think he would have spoken to Sarge like that even if he had been a Supervisor, not when Sarge had that look in his eye.
“Sir? Something more important. Something you must see before anyone else.” Sarge had fixed his eyes on the wall over the Super’s shoulder, and Bobby half expected it to start smoking. The last Super had been careless with a grenade but there were all these Frog carbins, and this had been a battle, so maybe this Super would get careless with flechettes?
Not yet, because the Super had finally listened. “You two, hold that door in the corridor and use your own bledrin weapons! Now this had better be important Sergeant, or stripes and metal won’t mean a thing!” The Super glared at the Timers again before following Sarge out of the door. Bobby heaved a sigh of relief and so did Fenton.
Bobby glanced quickly out of the window and laughed. “Well you’ve got a nickname now.” He eyed the big weapon on the floor. “Davy Crockett or Wild Bill Hickok?” A thick scatter of bodies showed where the Timers downstairs had beaten back the last attack. There were also an impressive number of people who had obviously been in cover, and each had a big red pool around their heads. “Come on, we’d better not let the Frogs through the door now.” Fenton stayed silent as they went back and Bobby put a clip of officially sanctioned flechettes down the corridor.
“How deep is it, Beebi?”
Bobby shrugged. “Don’t know but Sarge is on it so don’t drop ‘em and bend over yet.”
“There’s a lot of Frog flechettes still coming through here. They could hit anyone?” Fenton had been a bit slow, but he’d got there.
“I reckon Sarge will sort that out if necessary. Probably a messy toilet accident.” Fenton’s eyes widened. “Yeah, I saw his eyes when the Super started ranting. If Sarge looks at me like that I’m volunteering for a Taxi.” Fenton looked relieved, even when a Corp with a dozen men came up and took over at the door. Bobby and Fenton headed for the radio room as instructed by the Corp and as they arrived Siflis and Bells came to the top of the stairs, heading the same way. There were voices inside the room.
“… was why the last Frog attack broke up, and there’s been no more. We need to go higher with this sir. This will go right up to boardroom and it’s your command so you get the credit.” Sarge kept his voice steady and gentle, speaking quietly and persuasively, a bit like he did when one of the Timers started ranting about topping himself.
The dick didn’t sound persuaded. “They’ve been using Frog weapons. Carbins, that big cannon, probably shotguns and grenades! That’s dangerous!”
“What did you actually see sir? A burst from a carbin when they’re outnumbered, and sniping to break up an attack. Against that they killed a real Legionnaire! On the front line shooting at Timers! A stone cold contract breach a mile wide. That sniper rifle has to be another contract breach since it’s meant to look as if the shooter is using a shotgun. The radio is still working, with the codes, which is worth a serious bonus.” They heard a rattle. “Look, the Super’s grenade and shotgun are still here and the Legionnaire’s got his grenade. If they were plotting trouble they’d have nicked a grenade at least.”
The voices went down to a muttering, while Bobby cursed quietly. If he’d known about the grenade he would have cracked the door open and chucked it down that corridor. That would have screwed up the decorations and maybe cost the basted Super his basted bonus. The flechettes had messed up the paintwork but Bobby now wondered just what that cannon had done, and it had left a lot of evidence at the very least. Bobby had killed that bledrin radio Super with a shotgun! Shite! The four of them stood there at attention until the door finally opened.
All four had a strip ripped off them but quietly so the Super didn’t want it advertised, or not yet at least. Then he put them on guard outside the Legionnaire’s room and the radio room. The big rifle and ammo box along with the empty brass shells went back in with the Legionnaire and the dick left instructions that the four were to keep everyone out and answer no questions at all. As he followed the Super down the corridor Sarge dropped an eyelid and they all heaved a sigh of relief. Bobby threw two shotguns in the box and found that Sarge must have already done the same. There were four grenades in there as well which tempted Bobby briefly, but Sarge might not be amused if he came up one short. Where had they come from? The Legionnaire?
Bobby put four Frog carbins in the box as well, then he went and collected nearly all the remaining full clips from the nearby ready squad rooms. “What the bledrin hell are you doing? We’re supposed to be guarding!” Siflis hissed it quietly but the poacher sounded close to panic.
“You’re guarding. I’m getting rid of some inconvenient bits of evidence. Anyway, you never know when a Frog weapon might be handy to arrange an accident. Some careless dick gets into a fatal accident, a Frog flechette or shotgun type accident?” He looked longingly at the handgun in a holster on the Legionnaire’s belt, but someone would definitely notice if that went missing. Bobby shut the lid and clicked the padlock. “Now forget you saw that.” Bobby noticed that the Legionnaire’s remaining rats were gone, so much for bledrin regulations.
“It’s a wonder there’s any clips left.” Siflis grinned. “Frog ones, that is. We used a good few downstairs, but had to stop when our mob arrived.” He looked down the corridor at the metal plated door. “The door downstairs isn’t armoured and the Frog flechett
es chopped it into flinders.” He smirked. “We used a shotgun on the first bunch to come charging through. Sarge got it right. Fat, stupid and half awake and some weren’t even dressed properly. We emptied a couple of carbins into them as they ran.”
“Did you get the Super?”
“No Super in that lot. Did you get one?”
“Two, and Fenton got at least three, and it’s a problem. Or maybe, though we killed a shitload of Timers so it might be all right.” Bobby explained.
“We killed a shitload of Timers as well. I stuck my little mirror on a stick round the flat doorway to watch the corridor, then every time the basteds came past the corridor door one of us stuck a carbin round the corner and emptied it. They tried a big charge and that took my other shotgun barrel to stop, as well as a hell of a lot of bledrin flechettes.” Siflis grinned. “Frog flechettes.” His face sobered again. “Bledrin hell, Beebi, those shotguns are messy on a group!” Siflis sighed. “Bells had to nip back across to the entry room for more clips while they were running away after that.”
“We did that as well, went to get more.”
Siflis laughed. “I can see that from the heap of empty Frog clips. We probably used as many but we used ours bloody fast and they’re scattered around a bit more.” Siflis looked at the heap of clips and thought a bit. “Maybe we used more. When Bells came back over he looked out of the back window and saw the basteds crossing the street. He used the last shotgun barrel and emptied four Frog carbins one after the other, and the Frogs scattered.” Siflis snorted. “We used up the Frog clips and were halfway through our own when Sarge came across the corridor. His shotgun kept them all a bit quieter while the rest of the Mob arrived.”
“I heard a grenade as well.”
“That was Sarge. The Super wouldn’t use his and gave it to Sarge to throw. He’s a sleek basted is Sarge, he rolled the thing down the corridor and got it dead right. It went off opposite the first pair of doors and the Frogs stopped shooting from there.” Siflis spat. “The dick stayed across in the first room, the ready room we came through. He crawled over after Sarge got the Timers to build a wall across the corridor using the Frog bodies. The Frogs stopped trying to come down the corridor after that.”
“Not across the street though.”
“No, they tried again, with covering fire, and some got through the windows. That’s where Bells bust his finger.” Siflis laughed. “One thing, don’t ever think Sarge is out of ammo. He must have shotgun shells stuck in every crevice and I’m not sure he used them all. Sleek basted probably kept a few back when he persuaded the dick to give up his own. The dick couldn’t use them because he was over the corridor, securing the supply route for flechettes.” They both curled their lips at that.
Siflis glanced down the corridor to where Fenton and Bells were talking. “The third attack might have done it because we were all getting short of flechettes. Then a bunch of the Frog Timers dropped, their covering fire stopped and someone started yelling from behind them. The rest broke and ran. By the time the basteds got organised again more clips had arrived so we stopped them easy, and after that we settled down to taking a shot now and then.”
“I emptied two clips into them and Fenton shot the Frogs giving the covering fire. So what started the dick off? Sarge wasn’t worried about us using Frog weapons.”
“Yeah, well the dick spent most of the time in the entry room, the one we came in through. He started complaining about Frog weapons being removed, ammo missing, and Frogs killed by Frog weapons. Then he got onto the Frogs all committing suicide by grenade at the same time. I’m telling you Beebi, that worries me because Sarge thought he wouldn’t care.”
“We might still be all right.” Bobby confirmed that the Legionnaire had been the sniper, and Siflis nipped inside to have a look at the rifle. They were both impressed with how bledrin well Fenton could shoot that rifle. Neither of them could understand about the breach of contract but Sarge had seemed pleased and it diverted the Super. They both hoped it made him happy enough to forget about Taxis. Siflis seemed happier when Bobby told him about the look in Sarge’s eyes.
* * *
The four of them stood their guard duties and refused to answer a single question from anyone. Bobby did the same as the others probably did, he went over it time and again in his head. All four had been so unbelievably lucky. Siflis had a wrenched elbow, Bobby had a flechette gouge across the top of his shoulder, Fenton had the red line across his face and Bells had a broken finger, and the other fingers on that hand were swollen. Apart from bruises and scratches, that was it!
The basted Super left them on guard forever. Eventually a couple of Timers turned up with water and hot soup with a Frog loaf. They waited while the four of them ate and tried to get answers or look in the rooms. The Timers were sent up by Sarge so he was still looking out for them. The four of them couldn’t answer questions but nobody said they couldn’t ask and here were four convenient targets.
A ceasefire had been declared, but since none of the squad was a bledrin Homer Simpson they’d worked that out themselves. After all the firing outside had stopped and the Timers up by the door weren’t squirting clips through there. The Timers had even slung their carbins over their shoulders, which seemed a bit too casual for Bobby but the Corp seemed happy with it. Downstairs the Frogs had collected their dead but had to leave the weapons, which was normal. The corridor downstairs looked like a slaughterhouse and stank like one according to Siflis. Sarge had set seven Timers to cleaning up as penance, since they’d fired without orders at the start of the attack. There were lots of rumours about that no-fire order, including that the Squaddies had come in and cleared the way here, or that the Super had brought in a sniper to top all the Frog Supers.
Shouting started through the metal door and Corp answered, then opened it and went through! When he came back the Corporal had the Frog Super’s shotgun and grenade. He put the grenade in a pocket and pointed the shotgun through the grille, and more voices sounded out there but no shooting. Bobby knew a Corp shouldn’t have a shotgun and grenade, but he’d given up on what was allowed when the Super nicked the Legionnaire’s rations.
Ten minutes later the Corp opened the door, and there were no Frog bodies. He kept the shotgun pointed down the corridor while the Timers went through and came back loaded with Frog carbins and clips. Losing that lot and the Super’s grenade and shotgun must have burned the Frog Managers, let alone the Supervisors. Within minutes, unarmed Frog Timers came through the metal door in groups of four, bringing stretchers to take all the bodies except for the Legionnaire. Bobby remembered what Siflis said about his Dad and wondered if the Super wanted a Legion head for his wall?
By mid-afternoon two Supers with pressed uniforms and shiny brass arrived along with genuine, hard-faced Squaddies. The Squaddies carried real rifles with lead bullets, nasty looking weapons but still nothing like the size of that Legion cannon. They also carried half a dozen grenades each on their belts. Presumably so did Legionnaires, which explained the ones Sarge put in the metal box. The Squaddies left a pair of guards inside each of the two rooms but insisted that Bobby and the other three stayed on guard outside. The Squaddies seemed to be amused when their Supers weren’t actually looking.
Then came a group with a lot more braid and shiny stuff or posh suits, and they went into both rooms as well. They were all smiling when the group came out, and the one in a suit nodded at Bobby when a Squaddie pointed. That worried him, but the Manager or whatever seemed happy enough. Another four Squaddies came up and stood at attention along the corridor so all four Timers smartened up sharpish.
Three Frogs came up the stairs and went in to see the Legionnaire. The first thing Bobby noticed was that they really did stink of garlic. Then Bobby realised one wore the same uniform he’d shot through the grill and must be a Frog Super. The other two had more braid and shiny shite, and from the way they avoided the blood on the floor they weren’t used to being at the sharp end. All three looked v
ery unhappy when they came back out of the Legionnaire’s room and went downstairs, followed by the four Squaddies. Those were the first living Frogs Bobby had seen without shooting. The way the Frogs glared at Bobby and the rest, he hoped the next time their faces showed up was in Fenton’s sights.
Then he had no time to think because the next Squaddie came to ask deadly serious questions and he wanted answers in a hurry. Bobby explained about the Legionnaire and the rifle, and confessed they’d used captured weapons. He had to, there was no other way of doing what they’d managed. He did skip the first entry and that the weapons weren’t all captured right here. The other three all had a Squaddie interrogating them, and were relieved when nobody ended up arrested. The four Squaddies put their heads together, then the nearest nodded to Bobby. He said “You’ll do,” in a downright friendly way and then they marched off, stone-faced again.
A few minutes later more Squaddies arrived and took over guarding the outside of the two rooms. How many bledrin Squaddies were here? Bobby had never seen more than four at one time before. Being allowed to relax at last was welcome, but Sarge came with them and didn’t look happy. He gestured, and the four of them followed him down and out through a front window back to the barracks without a word.
* * *
“In here and grab a brew. Nobody will be coming back for a while and when they do, you’ll be gone.” Sarge waved a hand towards the canteen counter.
All of them took full advantage and put extra sugar in the tea, as well as taking an extra doughnut apiece. They fixed Sarge a brew and two doughnuts as well. “I should have expected that.” Sarge took a swig of tea. “Though an extra doughnut really won’t matter now. The good news from your point of view is that the Super is squared away. The dick will get his promotion to Line Manager and that’s good news for this Mob, and bad for where he’s going.”
