Dumpiter

by David Fletcher

  So that was it. The three stooges were doomed from the very start. And Narry had been right all along. Although Renton doubted that even he knew about this elite lot. And if only they could tell him, make him aware of this extra danger… But that was out of the question. They were in an impossible situation. And now they were in front of a grand pair of doors…

  There were four guards here. Fairly smart-looking chaps. And, Renton suspected, very likely members of this Able Battalion that Doggerbat had been describing. They were certainly taking a lot more interest in what was going on than those “sentries” had at the palace entrance.

  'OK lads,' bellowed Doggerbat to his assorted troops, 'I'll take over from here. Mr Lysaars don't want you ugly buggers making his rooms look all untidy. Report back to the commandery. You'll get a call when you're needed.'

  He waved his arm to dismiss them, and they turned to leave. And already one of the sentinels was opening the doors - to what were clearly Lysaars' quarters. Renton felt his heart sink.

  'An' you lot in here…'

  Doggerbat was now addressing his charges, and was ushering them into a large, empty anteroom, a holding area for the great man's visitors. And as soon as they were all inside, he spoke again.

  'Well, you're in for it now. Last time me and Mr Lysaars talked about you lot, he was right angry. And I mean right proper angry. I'm just bloody glad I'm not in your shoes, I really am.'

  He turned to the sentries. 'OK, boys. Close the doors. I don't want none of these here rabbits running for the woods. No, that wouldn't do at all, would it?'

  He beamed at his “boys” as they closed the doors. And, as they thudded together, he turned, hands on hips, to face his three captives. His beaming smile had gone. He wore a stony glare and he said nothing. Then he began to move towards Renton. His hands had left his hips - and one was now a fist, and he was punching it into the palm of the other. His eyes were menacing. Then he stood before Renton, now with both hands drawn into fists. 'Listen,' he said, surprisingly quietly. 'I've very little time to explain. So listen very carefully.'

  Renton gasped. Doggerbat sounded anything but menacing now. He just sounded anguished.

  'I want you to know what Lysaars is up to tomorrow. Understand?'

  Renton nodded. His mouth was in its open phase again.

  'Right. Well, he's going to kill one hundred thousand people. Got that? One hundred thousand!'

  Renton gave another nod, and his tongue slipped out of his wide-open mouth.

  Doggerbat then continued to explain as quickly as he could exactly what was to happen at Scorran and why it was to happen - all the immortality stuff. And it was incredibly credible. For, of course, its purpose made such sense - given what they already knew about Lysaars and his interest in life evermore. And why would Doggerbat concoct such a tale anyway? But there again, why, thought Renton, was Doggerbat telling them all this in the first place? Perhaps he should ask him. And he nearly did. But Boz beat him to it.

  'Hey man,' he intoned, 'why should we buy this here carton of news? How do we know it ain't past its use by date? An' why in hell's name are you tellin' us this here stuff anyway?'

  'Because, Mr Aukaukukaura… because, Boz, it's true. And I'm telling you so you can do something about it.

  'You see, I'm no angel. Well, you know what I am. And hell, in my time I've done some terrible things. But genocide… well, that's just too far, too far by a mile. I mean, it ain't right, is it? It just ain't natural. And in my mind, he's got to be stopped. And you see, I can't do that. Not on my own. Not with all these fancy guards he's got round him. But you… well, maybe you can.

  'How?' squeaked Renton.

  'With all your new friends, of course,' responded Doggerbat. You know, Mr Zubfraim and his gang.'

  'What!'

  'Oh come on. You don't think we didn't know all about him and his little army, do you? We've known all about them from the start. And left them alone from the start. Because they've never been a real threat. But now, now if they get themselves sorted… Well, there's never gonna be a better chance. Especially if they know what's goin' on.

  Renton felt more than a little stunned. What had started as a simple accounting puzzle had, it appeared, turned into a full-blown scary adventure - where they were now being asked to cross swords with a potential mass-murderer. And on top of that there was still Madeleine to sort out… Oh, and that reminded him. There was still Madeleine to sort out, wasn't there? And maybe he should say so…

  'Look here,' he started. 'This is all very well, but you're forgetting why we came here in the first place. Miss Maiden… You know, the unremembering stuff. That's what we're here for. And we can't forget that…'

  'I know,' said Doggerbat. 'And I don't expect you to either. But listen. I've been tryin' to stop it m'self. I've been huntin' round for the transmitter thing ever since I found out about this killin' stuff. And well, I can't find it. He's hidden it somewhere, and I don't know where. And the only chance of findin' it is to get him to show you. I mean, you've got to capture him. Simple as that. And you can only do that with the help of Mr Zubfraim. So we're back where we started.'

  'Why don't we grab him now?' demanded Boz. 'Ain't he here now - through that door over there?

  'No, he ain't,' responded Doggerbat. 'He's on the Ennovator. You know, his spaceship. And he's not likely to be back here for hours. And before you ask, no, there's no way I could get you all there, and there's no way I can just keep you here. That lot outside the door think Lysaars is due any minute, and that's why they're leaving us alone. But they won't leave us for long, and not when they find out that Lysaars probably won't be back 'til morning…'

  'How do you know all this?' asked Madeleine. 'How do you know he's not on his way back now? Forgive my doubting you, but I have got a rather personal interest in this matter. And I'd hate to rush off, just as he was coming to see us…'

  'He might treat me like a peasant,' started Doggerbat, 'but he does tell me what he's doing. And on top of that he's had a locater fitted. You know, one of the implanted sort. And I've got the locater-finder. And I can tell you now; he's still on that spaceship.

  'You see, he's a bit paranoid about getting lost - in space or anywhere. So who better to know where he is all the time, than poor old, useless Doggerbat. Yes, his poor old retainer might be a bit dim, but he's hardly a threat…

  'So anyway, you see why you ain't got too many options. And why you need to get your skates on, and get back to Mr Zubfraim and tell him what's goin' on.'

  Renton's mouth was now closed again. And although there were a few stragglers who hadn't yet made it back, he now had most of his wits about him as well. And he was using them as best he could.

  Could they actually believe this Doggerbat bloke, he was thinking. And was what he was saying making sense? And were there really no other options for Madeleine?

  Well, on the first point, the answer was a resounding “yes”. Renton could see in Doggerbat's face that he wasn't lying. Beneath his miserable expression was that unmistakeable shine of relief - born of his sharing his terrible burden with somebody else. And as regards it all making sense… well, that was an unavoidable “yes” as well, as was the absence of options. Hell, what else could they do but try and convince Narry that it was now time to move…?

  'Hey, but wait a minute,' he thought. 'How the hell do we do that? We're stuck in this palace…'

  Boz clearly had a similar thought - and, it appeared, a similar conclusion on what needed to be done - as was evident when he spoke.

  'OK,' he said. 'I think, my friend, we've got the picture. If we don't get our arses into gear, pretty damn pronto, not only will Madeleine here be in a pickle, but quite a few other folks will be as well. However, Mr Doggerbat, sir, it may have escaped your notice, but there's a kind o' handbrake up our arses at the moment. Like we're all trapped in this palace place. An' we can't like go anywhere. So how do we solve that? I mean, how do we get out - with all these here guard dudes around
?'

  Decisive directness had its effect and Doggerbat responded with military urgency. He drew a maser from his waistband and approached the doors to the room.

  'OK. Form up in single-file,' he ordered.

  And they did. Immediately.

  'Right' he continued, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. 'Just keep in file and go where I tell you. That way I can get you to the palace entrance. Then you're on your own. If I disappear now, Lysaars will get suspicious. I know he will. And that could ruin everything. There's no knowing what he'd do… So you'll just have to make it out on your own. OK?'

  'OK, Doggerbat. Let's get on with it,' responded Boz. 'An' tell Lysaars we were right real sorry to miss him. An' we'll catch up with him later.'

  Doggerbat almost smiled. Then he opened the doors. The quartet of sentinels turned to face him.

  'He's been delayed,' he announced. 'So it's the lock-up for this lot. I'll see you again later. When Mr Lysaars is back…'

  'Do you want any help?' asked one of the guards.

  'No,' replied Doggerbat. 'Look at them. They're not exactly threatening, are they? I think I'll manage.'

  And with a large grin and a very obvious wave of his maser, Doggerbat pushed Boz forward, and his little string of prisoners began to move from the room.

  Their escorted tour proved uneventful. They saw only a handful of people, and none of them showed much interest in Doggerbat, his prisoners or his maser. And eventually, Doggerbat signalled them to stop.

  'OK. You're on your own now. This is as far as I go. Turn right at the end of the corridor here, and you'll see the way out ahead. And then I suggest you just walk out. You shouldn't have too much trouble. But just in case, you'd better take this.'

  Doggerbat pushed his maser into Renton's hand.

  Renton emitted a slight whimper. He'd never held one before. Its lethal purpose frightened the hell out of him.

  'I don't know how to use it,' he croaked.

  'I do!' said Boz. And he took it gently from his hand. 'An' I think I need to use it now. Don't I, Mr Doggerbat?'

  'What!' screeched Madeleine. 'But he's tried to help us.'

  'Yes,' added Renton, a noticeable quaver in his voice.

  Boz chuckled.

  'Hey guys,' he said. 'I ain't gonna kill him. I'm jus' gonna help him. Ain't that right, Mr D?'

  'Yes. If I don't have at least a few bumps, I'm gonna have a real problem. No way Lysaars will believe I was overpowered by a trio of bloody cissies…'

  And before the “cissies” was out of his mouth, Boz had brought the barrel of the heavy maser into contact with Doggerbat's head. It caught him not quite between the eyes but near enough to be sickeningly effective. His knees buckled and he groaned. And before the groan had ended, Boz had delivered two more, slightly gentler blows to his cheek and to his chin.

  Blood trickled from his mouth as he uttered an indistinct 'thank you', and then he slumped to the floor.

  Boz immediately knelt at his side and rested his scaly hand on his head.

  'You OK?' he whispered.

  'I’m fine,' he grinned. 'Haven't felt so good in years. But you get out of here - now.' He raised his voice. 'And I mean now!'

  'C'mon people!' shouted Boz. 'You heard what the man said. Let's go. Let's get a move on!'

  'Right, right,' muttered Renton. 'Yeah, let's go!'

  And so they set off, as instructed, in the direction of the entrance, Renton still trying to come to terms with the first display of actual violence he'd ever seen in his life. And from Boz as well, Boz, the mild-mannered reptilian. Or maybe that should be Boz, the brave and responsible reptilian. After all, it'd had to be done. And could Renton have done it? Could even Madeleine, the police-lady, have done it? He wasn't sure. But he was sure glad that Boz had done it - and had been there to do it…

  And now there were other things to think about. They were in the entrance tunnel and approaching the gang of sentries. None of them looked in the least bit interested, and Renton was beginning to believe that they just might get away with it. That they would just walk past them. And then they would be out. And free to get back to Narry. And to save Madeleine - and maybe all those other people as well…

  And then he saw them: two of the thugs who'd escorted them to Lysaars' lair. They must have wandered down here for a chat with some of their mates. And then they saw him… And Renton knew it. He'd been recognised. It was that damn curtain again…

  'Run,' he shouted. 'Madeleine, Boz, run, run, run…'

  His colleagues got the message immediately. They'd clearly seen the same pair of villains themselves. So now all three of our heroes were in full flight - and one of them was raising his newly acquired maser…

  It worked. The bad guys immediately ducked down and forgot to draw their own weapons. And then they were busy avoiding the shower of rubble that Boz had created with a well-aimed shot into the tunnel ceiling - just above their heads.

  And now the race was really on. The cloaked and curtained trio were out of the palace, running as fast as they could. But with no clear destination in mind and now with a whole horde of Lysaars' hooligans chasing after them. And worse than this, the hooligans were firing at them and they were gradually getting closer. In fact, matters were becoming increasingly desperate very quickly indeed, and promised to be moving into the absolutely hopeless within only a few seconds.

  But then it was there in front of them. Like some great monster. It was the easipeas. And standing at its entrance, beckoning them inside was Pipkim…

  'Oh no,' said Boz. 'No way. Not that thing again.'

  Them a maser bolt removed the corner of the house they were running past.

  'There again,' he said, 'what the hell are we waitin' for? Let's get inside.'

  They did. And the easipeas pulled away. The juggernaut had saved them. It had snatched them from the very jaws of disaster.

  In fact, their nightmare had worked like a dream…

  57.

  Then it was all over. The easipeas was slowing and they were nearly home, nearly back with Pipkim's friends. And now the easipeas was finally still. And it was time to dismount.

  Pipkim loosed the restraints and walked to the back of the cabin. He unlatched the door, and it swung open with a clang.

  'This way, folks,' he said. And with that he jumped to the ground.

  Madeleine followed him and then Boz. So now, only Renton was left in the cabin - just as he'd planned…

  Because there'd been all that running around, hadn't there? And then the head restraint. And yes, there was no doubt about it: his hair was in a real mess again, and it needed a comb - surreptitiously like, here in the privacy of the empty easipeas. And it would take only a minute…

  So he reached into his right-hand pocket, the home of the Tenting combing apparatus from time immemorial - and found that the comb wasn't there. Neither was it in any of his other pockets - because it was now in the pocket of a seven-foot giant back at the palace.

  But, of course, Renton didn't know this. He didn't even know he'd dropped it by the mirror. And therefore, in the midst of his rising panic, he could only conclude that it must be somewhere on the floor. That all that bumping around in this old war-wagon had dislodged his essential grooming tool, and it was now lying on the floor of the cabin, probably close to where he'd been sitting during the ride. So he turned and retraced his steps - back to his seat, and back, he hoped, to his comb.

  Unfortunately, he embarked on this short trip without a full understanding of the way an easipeas is controlled. Whilst he'd certainly observed that these machines could be operated remotely - as was done when Renton and Co were first delivered to Narry - and that they could be operated from within - as Pipkim had just demonstrated - he'd plainly not thought about how the remote operation would need to be blocked while they were being driven from inside. Had he thought about this, he might then have asked Pipkim about it. And he, no doubt, would have been happy to explain all about the “override control�
��, and how only when this was switched to “on” could the remote control of the vehicle be engaged. It was therefore normally switched to “off” - as it was now. After all, the last thing Pipkim, or any easipeas driver would have wanted, was someone else taking control - from somewhere outside the machine.

  So when Renton, on his way back to his seat in the gloom of the cabin, tripped over and fell against the console and onto the small square of yellow plastic that started the easipeas, he didn't immediately appreciate that nobody outside the vehicle could now intervene in what he'd literally set in motion.

  Renton fell backwards as the monster leapt into lurch mode. Its back door was still open - but not for long. An open door was bad karma for a moving easipeas, something not wanted on voyage. So it snapped shut with an enormous clank of metal on metal. And Renton was now securely imprisoned in his moving nightmare. But, as he very soon began to realise, he wasn't securely imprisoned in one of its recliners.

  As the monstrous transport picked up speed and really began to pitch and wallow, Renton began to slide around the floor of its cabin. Then the slides became faster and faster, and then they turned into rolls. And it was when one of these rolls was brought to a very sudden stop - by the fixed pedestal of one of the cabin chairs thudding painfully into his chest - that he had a thought.

  And the thought that he had was a thought that was bad. For the thought was: 'I'm soon going to die!'