00:04…
And Biff’s mother, smuggling chocolates into his laundry parcel…
And Icarus had a sudden painful yearning –
“I want to find out who my mother is – but now I will never know…”
00:03…
00:02…
00:01…
00:00…
21 – Columna Proxima
Icarus’s eyes were closed. It was deathly quiet.
“Is this it? Am I dead?”
He opened his eyes – and the world was still here.
The Bomb, with the clock set to 00:00. Not exploded.
Victor, and Gus, and the General, and the Zeppelin crew…
The only bang Icarus felt was the thump of General Eisenberg’s heavy hand on his back. He looked up to see two gold teeth gleaming like distant incendi-shrooms.
“Vespasian, my boy! I must apologise for our little trick. This must indeed be the greatest trick ever played – for this ‘Bomb’, Victor, is a fake…
Vespasian! The last thing Neufundland wants is for a real atomic Bomb to be hovering over New London! For two reasons:
First, if it went off, it would bring New London crashing down on Neufundland, destroying both nations…
And second, the ‘Bomb’ would have to stay here for some period of time, if the threat of it is to have the desired effect on the peoples below…
… and all the time it sits here, it is at risk from a New London attack. Shroom Raiders could seize it – and the very, very last thing we want is for New London to discover how to made an atomic Bomb, which it could simply drop on Neufundland!”
“The trick, Vespasian, is to convince the people of New London that Neufundland not only has the Bomb, but is prepared to use it…
This piece to camera just now was a dress rehearsal; it wasn’t actually broadcast. But next time we will broadcast for real - and then I will give the New Londoners a demonstration of the Bomb’s power that nobody, Above or Below, will ever forget…”
The General pointed out into the dark abyss.
“Do you see that distant column of rock, Vespasian? Where a mighty stalactite and a mighty stalagmite have joined together to form a great pillar? That is Columna Proxima, the nearest cave world to our own. A hundred miles away it stands, Vespasian – but a hundred miles will not save it…”
They prepared to broadcast, for a second time. For real this time. Victor and Gus lent a hand to the film, TV and radio crews, and Icarus noticed that behind the General’s back fleeting hand signals were exchanged, with fleeting glances and knowing smiles –
The General checked the transmitter that would send the radio signal a hundred miles across space, all the way to Columna Proxima. And he smiled his golden smile at Victor, Gus and Icarus.
“We are the bringers of peace”, he declared. “At last, New London and Neufundland, Above and Below, will be united under the blessed command of the Father-Brother.”
“Let me perform the honours with the camera”, said Victor. And he pressed his face to the viewfinder.
Now all was ready for the real broadcast…
“Lights…”
“Sound…”
“Action!”
And Victor pointed the TV camera at the General, pressed a switch – and a volley of strangle-shrooms shot out, whipping around the General’s body, wrapping him from head to toe in a thick, choking tangle.
The Zeppelin crew gave out a mighty cheer, exchanging vVv signs as General Eisenberg fell to the ground.
“What? What? Help me, what are you doing?”
Victor and Gus stood over him, grinning. Then Victor kicked the General, again and again, rolling him over and over, towards the edge. There General Eisenberg lay, one last kick between him and the abyss. Victor grinned at Icarus.
“Would you like to do the honours, my brother?”
Icarus stood and stared. Then numbness overcame him and he slumped to the ground.
Victor turned to the General.
“You know, General, this puts me in mind of the ancient scriptures, Songs of Hubris and Nemesis... You remember the tale of Vikare, who tried to fly to the roof of the world with wings torn from a great Bat? And he was torn to pieces by the Bat’s children, who recognised their mother’s flesh and bones? Enjoy the fall, General - and may bats enjoy the taste of your flesh…”
Victor administered the last kick…
… and the General rolled over the edge, and with a final scream, a final flash of those golden teeth, he vanished.
Victor hugged Icarus.
“Now, Brother, it is time for the real Revolution!”
Victor gestured around them.
“All our Zeppelin crew are good Royalist men and true – but there are more, many more in New London and Neufundland, who have been yearning for an end to dictatorship and democracy, and the return of the Twin Kings!”
Victor led Icarus to the radio suite, where one of his crew was hunched over a console, one hand on his headset.
“What are you picking up, Karsten?”
Karsten turned, his face flushed with excitement.
“The network is activated, Your Majesty! They are distributing Royalist pamphlets, flying royal bunting, gathering in the streets and calling for your return. But there is opposition…”
Victor turned to the television suite.
“What are we getting on the TV, Otto?”
“It’s a confused situation, Your Majesty. Our people are fighting with democrats on the streets of New London. They are having to be more cautious in Neufundland – they still fear the harshest of clampdowns if they dare to fly their Royalist colours openly.”
“Everything is hanging in the balance”, said Gus.
“All it needs”, said Victor, “Is a good strong push…”
Again they set up cameras and microphones.
“How is the radio-jamming going?” asked Gus.
“Brigadier, our jamming equipment is blocking a large part of the radio and television transmissions in both New London and Neufundland. Your broadcast will come through quite cleanly on most radio and TV channels.”
“Prepare to broadcast”, said Victor. “My Brother, stand next to me…”
“Lights…”
“Sound…”
“Action!”
22 – World’s End
“People of New London and Neufundland!”, said Victor, “We are all at a critical moment in our destiny. For many long dark years we have been at war with each other – and for what? So that your so-called ‘rulers’ Above and Below can grow fat on the fruits of your labour, while you grow hungry? To raise their children safe and pampered, while your children fight, and suffer, and die?
People of New London! Has your so-called ‘democracy’ given you peace? No. Has it offered any hope of building a better tomorrow? No.
People of Neufundland! Your so-called ‘Father-Brother’, the Chicken Farmer, is a only a father of thieves, and a brother to thieves.
Don’t you think that New London deserves better?
Don’t you feel that Neufundland deserves better?
“People of Above and Below! People of two great nations! Your rulers have failed you!
They grow fat on bat steaks – while you go hungry on ration book fungus-bread.
They enjoy safety – while you endure death and despair.
And they continue this stupid war – while you yearn for peace.
Tyranny has failed you. Democracy has failed you.
But there is a third way…
“Once, not so long ago, we were the Twin Kingdoms – and we all lived, as one, in peace and harmony…
There was no war.
There was no hunger.
There was no fear.
There was no tyranny, and no fake ‘democracy’.
And the Two Kingdoms lived in peace, because there was a bond of blood between them. The blood-bond between the Twin Kings.
My brothers, my sisters, my lovin
g subjects – I am King Victor Zwilling Königsland Hohenzollern V. And this is my brother, King Vespasian Zwilling Königsland Hohenzollern V. We are the rightful Twin Kings, and the time has come for us to bring peace to our Kingdoms…
“But we must tell you now of a wicked scheme by the Tyrant of Neufundland, the accursed Chicken Farmer…
A scheme so monstrous that you would find it hard to comprehend…
A scheme to destroy the entire stalactite of New London, to bring the whole thing, billions of tons of it, crashing down on Neufundland. The Chicken Farmer wants to destroy us all!
But, I hear you ask – what weapon could possibly bring down the whole stalactite of New London? There are not enough explosives Above and Below to accomplish such a crime…
“I have to tell you now, my brothers and sisters – the Chicken Farmer’s scientists have invented a Bomb of such monstrous power that I wouldn’t blame you if you doubted its existence.
Doubted its monstrous scale.
Doubted its capacity to end us all.
Cameraman, please point your camera…
And everyone watching the broadcast in New London and Neufundland, Above and Below, peered more closely at the milky screens of their television sets. And they saw the Bomb in its cradle.
“This is the Atomic Bomb that the Chicken Farmer of Neufundland has planted above New London. But he also placed another such Bomb – by means too dastardly to go into now – a Bomb upon our neighbouring world of Columna Proxima, a hundred miles yonder. My brothers and sisters, look to the great rocky pillar of Columna Proxima. And tell everyone, your families and friends, to come in from the kitchen, to come in from the street and garden, to gather at the television now, and watch…”
The cameras followed Victor as he walked over to the radio transmitter. Everyone on the ledge gazed out, across a hundred miles of Cave space, to the vast, gloomy pillar of Columna Proxima.
“Watch, my brothers and sisters. Watch…”
And Victor pressed the button.
There was a moment’s pause.
Then the Cave lit up with a flash brighter than any light the Cave had known. A flash that scorched the eyes, even a hundred miles away.
Then, seconds later, New London and Neufundland were hit by the shockwave, a blast in the air that knocked Icarus and some of the crewmen to the ground.
“Get up!” hissed Victor. “You are a King – stand up and act like one!”
And then came the noise…
… the boom and roar of a whole world ending, as the mighty pillar of Columna Proxima was engulfed in a mushroom-shaped cloud…
… trembled…
… and began to fall…
As he climbed to his feet, Icarus imagined the peoples of New London and Neufundland, gathered around their television sets, or caught at the window or in the street by the flash, the shockwave, the roar, watching the most terrible display of destructive power in the history of their worlds.
The ground shook beneath their feet.
There were further distant rumblings as the shockwave triggered rockslides. And every soul Above and Below continued to watch, transfixed by the sight of a world ending, as Columna Proxima collapsed, so slowly that it seemed like a film playing at the wrong speed, collapsed down on itself, filling the Cave with vast clouds of smoke and dust that now began to reach New London and Neufundland, causing people to cough and choke.
Icarus peered over the ledge. The Acid Sea was dim and distant below. He couldn’t see the tsunamis, the shock waves racing out across the Sea like ripples in a pond – but he could make out the white crashing plumes as the tsunamis broke on the lower slopes of Neufundland. Icarus imagined what it must be like to be caught on those lower rocks, as mountains of boiling hot, searingly acidic water came crashing down on everyone and everything. Icarus closed his eyes, pressed his eyelids together, and tried to hold back the hot angry tears.
23 - vVv for Victory
Victor gave Icarus a hard, knowing glance. He waited a minute, to let the impact of what the people had seen sink in. The shaking of the ground faded away to occasional after-shocks. The rock-falls came to distant crashing conclusions.
Then Victor spoke.
“Our brothers, our sisters, you have just witnessed the Bomb built by the Father-Brother. The machine he and his government built, to destroy us all. A Bomb built by Neufundland. But a Bomb also, in a way, built by New London. For our rulers in Neufundland and New London, have between them created the conditions in which such a terrible device could be built. Our rulers should hang their heads in shame. But of course they have no shame – in which case they should rightly be hanged.
“Our people! My brother and I must now present you with a clear choice. We don’t want to, but we have no choice. Our governments have forced us all into this.
“We, the rightful Twin Kings, did not create this Bomb that hangs over us all. This Bomb that would destroy us all at the push of a button. But we must tell you that we couldn’t go on living in a world like this. A world with two cruel, weak, unjust governments. A world at war. No. We must choose, once and for all.
“We must all choose the Royal road, the path of light and hope, the road that our grandparents trod in peace and security, with food for all, safety for all and justice for all. The time has come for the Twin Kings to claim their thrones once more , for the worlds Above and Below to be joined again in a bond of blood. For this war to end, and for you all, our brothers and sisters, to stand tall and walk free.
“Brothers and sisters, we must choose the Royal road – or choose the end of everything.
“We cannot accept any other choice. We cannot accept the lies of the ‘democrats’ and the ‘Father-Brother’. We cannot accept their betrayals, their injustices, their war.
My brother and I did not made this Bomb. No – but we are prepared to use it. Yes, we are prepared to see New London and Neufundland crumble and vanish into the Acid Sea, just as Columna Proxima has crumbled and vanished. We are prepared to die, rather than settle for this awful state any longer. Our people, we give you a choice.
Between everything and nothing.
Between the golden tomorrow of the Twin Kingdoms, and an eternal night.
Nothing in-between. No compromise. No half-truths.
Choose, my people. Choose wisely – for in your hearts you know that tomorrow you would shine in the bright dawn of the Twin Kingdoms. And anyone who wants to cling to the drowning wreck of the old ways, wants to drag us all down into never-ending darkness.
Choose now. Gather in the streets, and choose. Go to the radio and television stations, and choose. Go to the newspaper offices, and choose.
Chose a bright new dawn. Don’t force us to press the button, and choose the night…”
They gathered to listen at the radio sets, and they gathered to watch on the television sets. The Twin Kings, and Gus, and the Zeppelin crew listened, and watched, and they tried to gauge the mood of the peoples below.
“Your Majesty, a Royalist march in the streets of New London – ten thousand strong, our man on the ground estimates…”
“Brigadier Toughshank, forces loyal to you have stormed the state radio station in Neufundland Kapital, and are broadcasting King Victor’s speech, interspersed with Royalist songs…”
“Your Majesty – fighting on the streets of Buenaventura District…”
“We have seized the New London Government Press! Soon we will be dropping Royalist pamphlets onto all the Neufundland troops in the summit fortifications…”
“Your Majesty…”
“Your Majesty…”
“Your Majesty… the tide is turning our way!”
“A banquet! My best men and true, a feast to celebrate the greatest day in our history!”
They laid out trestle tables for the Zeppelin crewmen, and a table at one end for Victor, Icarus and Gus. Gus busied himself with the cooking, for all the pain in his shoulder, stirring up the galley’s supplies of cured bat ste
ak and shroom hard tack in a great cauldron, with a smaller pot of the choicest bat cuts for the Twin Kings and the Brigadier. Soon everyone sat, Kings, Brigadier and crewmen, to a steaming hot plate of steak and shrooms, with a good tot of Neufundland Army rum. King Victor raised his glass and proposed a toast –
“To victory! To the Twin Kingdoms! And to full bellies after a job well done! Tuck in, my lads!”
And they all tucked in, and they ate and drank and were merry, laughing and joking, toasting their Twin Kings, and exchanging the vVv signs of victory.
Victor and Gus tucked in too, but Icarus sat there in shock. His head was spinning, trying to take in everything that had happened, and failing. He felt sick to his core, and managed little more than to push his food round his plate. He glanced at Gus, and all he could think of were the laxishrooms with which Gus spiked his Army breakfast, leaving him vomiting and defecating his way up and down the Bat’s Teeth…
Victor clinked his rum glass with Gus and Icarus. And he watched his men as they cleared their plates. Observed them closely. Then stood and tapped his glass with his knife for everyone’s attention.
“My brothers, my friends, let me call another toast. This time to secrecy. For you have all played your role in this glorious day, this glorious choice that our peoples have made. Choosing a bright tomorrow over destruction.
But you know, and I know, that this threat of destruction is based on a trick. A Bomb that is not really a Bomb. A deception, a ruse, a lie. This ‘Bomb’ can’t destroy our worlds any more than a toadstool can dance the tango…
But nobody must ever know this. Not one soul, Above or Below, can ever find out that the Twin Kings have no Bomb at their backs. Everyone must believe with absolute conviction that the Kings have both carrot and stick – the carrot of hope, and the stick of certain destruction. For the carrot does not work without the stick to back it up…”
Shroom Raider Page 10
