The Code War

by Ciaran Nagle

  'I hope that never happens to me,' said Lafarge, contemplatively.

  Kodrob turned his head to look sideways at him. 'Lafarge, are you stupid or something?'

  'What? I don't want to be a gurn!'

  'You don't get a choice.' Kodrob stared at Lafarge incredulously. 'Everyone becomes a gurn in the end. It's inevitable. There's nothing you can do about it. Sooner or later you'll get husked. You'll get in a fight or something and someone'll knife you. Your body changes inside the husk. Like a butterfly. Only you don't come out prettier than you went in. You come out dumber and uglier. A lower form. A lower caste. Less brains every time. So it goes on all the way down the caste ladder until you become a gurn too. We all will. Get used to it.'

  Kodrob emptied his tankard and stood up. Lafarge was staring at his feet. He put his hand to his handsome face and stroked his cheek. Then he looked at his fingers. 'So I'm going to burn,' said the French demon. 'Burn like a gurn. Squeal and spin and burn. With lots of guys watching, laughing.' He raised his head to look at his captain.

  'Come on,' said Kodrob, brusquely. 'It won't happen just yet. And it's time to go see Lady Bezejel. Get her out of bed. If she's in a foul mood we just might get husked today and begin our journey down the ladder. Only one way to find out. Let's go.'

  They left the canteen and returned to the corridor outside Bezejel's quarters.

  The four bodies were in the same place.

  'Hunks they went in and husks they came out,' said Kodrob grimly as he stepped carefully over the straw bale-like forms.

  'Why does she do it?' whispered Lafarge.

  'Can't help herself. Though some say it's to avoid having to remember a guy's name in the morning.'

  Kodrob pulled a small flask of liquid from his pocket, unscrewed the cap and put it to his mouth. He swallowed hard and then after putting it back in his tunic, stood astride over the fourth husk and knocked on Bezejel's door which was slightly ajar.

  Inside he could see signs of destruction all around the room. Broken tankards, smashed chairs and more shredded uniforms spoke of Bezejel's evening of delight.

  'Ma'am, the second letter has been delivered to the Earth woman. You asked me to let you know.' Kodrob was as formal as he could be.

  'Get out,' came the throaty reply. 'Stand outside the door.' Kodrob moved out of sight and stood to attention in the corridor. Lafarge stood beside him, staring upwards at the arched ceiling.

  'Guards.' Bezejel summoned her two protectors, Gog and Magog. They were waiting in the nearby drinks storeroom counting their spoil. The husked satyrs would have no further need of their diesel vouchers.

  Sound of stiletto heels on rock as Bezejel fastened the straps on her shoes. Moments later she emerged from her room and stepped daintily into the corridor. At her feet were the four prostrate husks. She looked down at them as if wondering what they were doing there. One of them had doubled up in his death agonies and was now causing an obstruction. His body filled the gap between the walls. Bezejel, in her tight fitting red dress, could not step over him. She held out a slender bare arm to Kodrob. He took her hand and she leant on his weight and hopped lightly over the cocoon, clacking her heels as she landed and steadied herself on the other side.

  She looked back at the husks and then up again at Gog and Magog. They knew what she wanted and signalled their understanding with a nod.

  Then Bezejel tossed her head and set off down the corridor at a lick while Kodrob and Lafarge fell in behind her.

  'What's the letter?' barked Bezejel.

  'Er, eh e.' Kodrob had almost forgotten why he was there.

  'e ma'am,' he repeated.

  'I heard you the first time.'

  Bezejel reached the spiral stairs to the next level and tip-tapped rapidly upwards. The two males followed, struggling to keep pace. Another length of gloomy corridor and then Bezejel entered Kodrob's squad room which had now become her campaign headquarters.

  Kodrob's other squad members were already in place. There were Holzman, Van Diemen, Ologu and Pu Gash, the orderly. They had heard Bezejel's approach and were dressed in full Marauder uniform and standing to attention. As she entered they saluted.

  Bezejel did not return the salute. Instead she surveyed the room and waited while Kodrob and Lafarge entered after her and also stood still. A silence followed.

  Bezejel fixed her gaze on the charcoal image of the Leader on the wall. The cold eyes stared back at her. And at everyone else. Soon she relaxed and her eyes became less fierce, more focused.

  'We have work to do.' Bezejel's soft whisper came in a change of mood that Kodrob was slowly getting used to.

  'You, get some drinks. Hades coffees all round,' said Bezejel almost smiling at Pu Gash, Kodrob's only imp soldier who went off to his petrol station to make the brews.

  Bezejel stood near the table and waited till Lafarge, the only demon there versed in etiquette, attentively pushed in her chair beneath her. Kodrob sat beside her, followed by his squad.

  As they settled into their seats he cast a hasty eye over Bezejel's upper body. Killer princess. He took in the perfect shape, the intelligent eyes and the coquettish look and tried not to think about the four satyrs.

  He turned his attention back to the matter in hand. This was his squadroom, his squad and he needed to observe the formalities.

  'Ma'am, you've met my boys before. Now may I introduce them. First off, Holzman the cruel, a former gladiator, now a weapons master.' Each Marauder stood up as their name was mentioned and bowed to Bezejel. Holzman's smile was a little too familiar. 'Lafarge, former layabout,' everyone laughed at the French womaniser, 'and now an ace forager. Van Diemen, former poisoner and now an assassin. You'd better watch your coffee ma'am,' Kodrob whispered to Bezejel, as laughter broke out again. 'Don't let him near it.' He slapped Van Diemen on the shoulder. 'Ologu, former slave trader, now an angel trapper. And Pu Gash, who did nothing notable in the Fourth but now makes mouth-watering drinks in the Fifth thus proving that only in Inferno are people's talents developed to the full.'

  Kodrob finished his introduction with a theatrical flourish. He watched how Bezejel's face glowed and her eyes sparkled like scintillas in a smithy as she learnt about her new team. He was proud of them. They were custom built for a Destructive Purpose project. When Kodrob had finished, Bezejel clapped her hands and gave him a playful puck on the cheek. It felt like being stroked by a bench vice. He acknowledged her gesture with a polite tilt of his head.

  Bezejel now took command of the room. Kodrob sat down and watched his boss. She narrowed her eyes and regarded the half dozen Marauders sitting nervously around the table like a mother eagle surveying her chicks. 'I am expecting a visitor shortly who is going to work alongside us and assist us. Captain Kodrob has met him already. He is Colonel Hideki and he has won a formidable reputation for his pioneering work in bringing humans back to the true path.' As she spoke she produced a short hunting knife from her belt and pushed the tip of its blade into the wooden table in front of her. They had seen this before.

  'The Leader has spoken favourably of him,' she continued. 'We will work closely with him and he with us. But do not forget that Captain Kodrob is your boss and I am Captain Kodrob's boss. Colonel Hideki is an adviser, not your commander.'

  All eyes in the room were flitting from the knife to Bezejel's face and back again. They were serious now, Kodrob noted, except for Holzman who was transfixed.

  Footsteps sounded outside the room and Kodrob leapt to his feet. He ran to the door and craned his neck to peer into the gloom. It was Hideki. Not walking, but marching. The former Divine Wind commander entered the room and snapped to a halt, his hands stiffly at his sides. He looked at Bezejel and made a bold effort at a smile.

  Keeping one hand on the curved ceremonial blade hanging from his belt, he looked around him and took in his surroundings before giving a slight bow to the image of the Leader on the wall. 'So honoured, so honoured.' Hideki bowed also to Bezejel and took a seat that was held out for h
im.

  He sat down stiffly, turned to Bezejel and nodded curtly. Only now did he drop the military clip and sit at ease.

  Bezejel placed her hands casually at either side of the knife. 'Now boys, this is Colonel Hideki. He has proved his ability to lead men into battle so you would be advised to listen to him carefully and learn. He is also one of the smartest demons in the kingdom. He has studied the human psyche. The colonel knows how to extract and recycle ambition and lust for power from one generation of humans to the next. He is a practitioner of the Arts of Lucifer. It was he who identified the hidden talents of the girl Nancy and showed how her few shortcomings could be fixed. In other words, how she could be made whole. He is going to tell us about some exciting operational developments in the project.'

  Pu Gash entered bearing a tray of stone beakers filled with dark steaming liquid. The little imp walked around the table placing a beaker in front of each demon, starting with Bezejel and Hideki. When he had placed each drink down he went around a second time, lighting the drinks with a taper as he went. Blue flames took hold and hovered over the drinks like jack o'lanterns over a swamp. They made a colour contrast to the various shades of red of almost everything else in the room. The whiff of kerosene was noticeable immediately and several Marauders inhaled deeply, approving the pungent aroma.

  As they paused to enjoy their drinks Bezejel chatted gaily for a few moments with the Marauders sitting opposite her. Holzman rolled up the sleeves of his combat fatigues to show off the girth of his upper arm. He was not the best-looking of demons. Not that smart either. Kodrob saw a dangerous situation developing and moved to intercept. By the time he had taken the four paces around the table to where Holzman was sitting the German demon had encouraged Bezejel to reach across and place her hand around his bulging biceps. She was playing up to him, gazing helplessly into his eyes like a seal pup. The softest of hums broke her lips as she squeezed her fingers.

  'Excuse me ma'am.' Kodrob placed a friendly arm on Holzman's shoulder, pulling him back. 'Marauder Holzman missed out on finishing school. He forgets himself.'

  'Nonsense,' Bezejel purred. 'We're not doing any harm. Just getting to know each other. Isn't that right Holzman?'

  The ex-gladiator was oblivious to his boss who was trying to save him. He looked down at Bezejel's knife. 'That's a mighty fine little blade, Miss. I mean Ma'am. A real angel tickler, knife like that.' Kodrob cringed. Even his chat up lines were all wrong. But grunt soldiers don't just come on romantically to siren princesses. Not unless they want a very limited future.

  'Well, it's yours,' declared Bezejel earnestly, to the astonishment of the rest. 'At the end of the meeting you can have it if you want it.'

  'We should get started again,' said Kodrob quickly. 'We all have a lot to do.' He glanced at Ologu, pleading with his eyes for help. Ologu shook his head. Van Diemen shrugged and smiled thinly, watching the fun. Lafarge held back. He'd seen all too recently what Bezejel was capable of.

  As Bezejel regained her seat she pressed down lightly on the knife. A further inch of the blade sank into the table. Holzman hadn't noticed. His dopy grin was fixed on Bezejel's face.

  Kodrob, with a worried frown, sat down too. 'Colonel Hideki, are you ready to talk to us? We'd all really like to hear about the operation you've come to talk about. Really like to hear about that, right now.'

  Holzman finally tore his gaze away from Bezejel. He looked at Hideki for the first time in minutes as though surprised there was anyone else in the room.

  The Japanese colonel cleared his throat.

  'We have delivered the second of a set of code-letters to the young human female, Nancy,' he began, speaking over their heads to the wall.

  'I cannot tell you how many letters there are. Spies are everywhere.' He checked each demon's face as though he might find signs of betrayal written in any one of them.

  'But it is important that Nancy receives every letter that we send her. The code sequence must not be broken, or else the mission is in danger.' He paused to take a solemn sip of his smoking coffee. 'Your mission, Captain Kodrob, will be to guard the communication filaments that I have set up between Inferno and Nancy and ensure that they are not interrupted or tapped into. Filaments are not Fourth Dimension materials. They are our own devilish thought-lines. They carry a short message to an endpoint on Earth and manifest that message through a medium such as a reflection. The filaments are our means of delivering the code letters where they can be seen by Nancy. Our feathered enemy may try to discover our filament endpoints and sever them or obscure them. Only you Marauders know Earth well enough to be able to protect them. You must follow Nancy wherever she goes and intercept any attempted strike. Captain Kodrob, you will control the mission from this room.'

  'You can count on me and my men, Colonel. We're entirely dedicated to serve our Leader in any way we can.' Kodrob was looking sternly at Holzman as he spoke.

  'That is not all.' Hideki was back to addressing the wall. 'Later on some of you will have to accompany me to the Fourth. I have a delicate operation to perform on one of Nancy's ancestors in the Fourth's nineteenth century. You will guard me so that I can concentrate on my spiritual surgery. I will tell you more about this soon.'

  Bezejel sipped her flaming coffee. 'Marauders, Colonel Hideki has provided you with all you need to know concerning his area of this very important task. Kodrob, I want you to draw up a shift schedule so that we have the right amount of boots on the ground in the Fourth when and where we need them. Nancy is on her way to Africa so make sure everyone knows the territory down there. I don't want anyone turning up for work drunk or leaving early to go to a squawhouse. There'll be plenty of time for drinking and pleasure when Nancy is safely in the bag.'

  She turned to Hideki who was nodding his approval at her every word.

  'And the next letter is due to be sent soon,' he said coldly. 'You have not much time to get organised. The Angelic command will be aware of our strategy by now. They will act. But they will not risk a spiritual confrontation on Earth so your presence alone should deter them. It's against their rules to interfere directly unless requested by humans on their knees. And with Nancy, that's not going to happen.'

  Hideki stood up abruptly and nodded formally to the middle of the table. Stepping around his chair he turned to his side and began to march off. The rest of the group watched him depart in silence.

  Bezejel tapped a finger gently on the table. 'Well, Kodrob. You heard him. Filaments. You'd better get to it. And maybe you should look into growing your team. You may need more bodies than you have right now.'

  'Ma'am.'

  Holzman had resumed his babyface adulation. Bezejel turned to him. 'Marauder. The knife,' she said simply. 'Take it and own it.'

  Holzman looked at her uncertainly. 'Thank you, madam Bezejel.'

  She smiled back. He looked around the table as if he couldn't believe his luck. He stood up and reached forward for the knife. Only now did he notice how deep in the table it was sunk. A frown crossed his face. He took the handle and pulled upwards. Nothing happened. He pulled again, this time with all his strength. And again.

  No-one moved. No-one laughed. They were watching a tragicomedy play itself out right in front of their eyes.

  'It's stuck,' he said sheepishly.

  'Well. Maybe it's not for you after all,' said Bezejel quietly. She bent her hourglass shape over the table, grasped the knife's handle and pulled upwards. For a moment the table left the ground. Bezejel pushed down on it with her other hand and the knife came free. As she stood up and straightened her dress the knife vanished back into her belt.

  There sat Holzman staring up at Bezejel and no words came from his mouth. Now he was the one with the seal pup eyes, looking up adoringly at the hunter who could snuff him with a blow. But only for a moment. Realisation dawned, its fingers stretching across his warted face and pulling away his laughter lines. 'Oh,' he said with feeling, looking anew at Bezejel as if waking from sleep. 'Uh…Oh.' He sat back
in his chair with a lurch.

  Kodrob was seeing a new side to Bezejel that he didn't know existed. She was showing patience, tolerance and self-control towards enlisted men. This was unexpected. No-one would blame her if she'd husked Holzman for showing such public disrespect. But she'd allowed him to make a fool of himself - and her - and then come back to his senses. On his own. That made Bezejel a very formidable leader indeed. Maybe, just maybe, she'd pull this whole thing off after all.

  Bezejel regarded Kodrob with a look that said nothing and everything. 'I'll be back soon, Captain. Try to keep an eye on your boys. I wouldn't like to see them hurt.' She clacked briskly out of the room into the dimly-glowing corridor, swirling her hair and leaving her Marauders gazing at her ember-like form as it retreated and was swallowed up by the darkness.

  Flying Hippo transport plane above Gambia, West Africa

  Nancy raised her head from her make-do pillow of vehicle covers and dust sheets. She pulled aside the tarpaulin that covered her and listened again. The tone of the engines had definitely changed. They sounded softer and quieter as though the aircraft's speed had dropped.

  The cabin door opened and a figure came through into the hold. Probably the co-pilot who had brought her sandwiches and coffee earlier and shown her where to find the lavatory. Sound of a switch being flicked and a glow permeated the hold from a dozen low intensity bulbs arranged along both sides of the hull's interior.

  Nancy lifted herself up on one arm and bumped her head immediately. She looked up at the malevolent machine gun barrel pointing backwards from the vehicle she had chosen to sleep in. Death, it whispered. I do death. The smiling co-pilot, who had declined to tell her his name so far, approached. He was African and wore a blue flight suit over his large frame.