Galactic Keegan

by Scott Innes

  ‘It’s never then,’ I replied. ‘Whatever happens next, Gillian, remember what happened here today. Someone needs to tell the story of how the Palangonian Compound refused to go down without a fight. Look after Barrington12, will you? Someone needs to clear his name.’ I turned back towards the madness.

  ‘Don’t do this!’ I heard her cry distantly. ‘We’re so close!’

  ‘I can’t do it, Gillian,’ I said, with a final wave. ‘I can’t be like the kid, Nero, fiddling with myself while Rome burns. I have to stay. Until the bitter end.’

  ‘You’re mad,’ she called from far away.

  ‘I already died once,’ I replied. ‘If I have to do it again, then so be it.’

  I left the bay and was startled to hear a clanking sound immediately behind me. I whirled round, expecting to see a L’zuhl war machine preparing to open fire, but instead I saw my friend.

  ‘I told you to go with Gillian,’ I said to Barrington12 sternly. ‘You’re no use here; the L’zuhl will have you for breakfast. You need to leave on that shuttle – you have to prove your innocence.’

  ‘I WILL NOT GO, KEVIN KEEGAN,’ he replied. ‘MY PLACE IS HERE. WITH MY FRIENDS. AT MY HOME. I BELIEVE THE TRUE WAY TO PROVE THE COURT WAS WRONG IN THEIR JUDGEMENT TODAY IS TO STAND AND FIGHT FOR HUMANKIND. PLEASE ALLOW ME TO DO THIS.’

  I considered this for just a moment and knew that I could not forbid my friend, my oh-so-human friend, from making his own sacrifice.

  ‘Come on then, big man.’ I stood on my tiptoes to reach up and pat him warmly on the shoulder. ‘We’ll go down with this ship together.’

  ‘BARRINGTON12 MUST POINT OUT THAT THIS IS NOT A SHIP, IT IS A WALLED COMPOUND. THE TWO ARE QUITE DISTINCT.’

  Well, maybe not quite human.

  I jogged to the fringes of the Compound Square, my lungs choking on the acrid smoke. It was impossible to believe that a mere half hour previously, this had been a thriving metropolis: people out shopping, running errands, dining out. Now, it was a rubble-strewn wasteland. The L’zuhl were rounding up survivors and frog-marching them onto their ships, no doubt destined to live out their limited days in the phlebonium mines on one of the L’zuhl moons, the materials from which were used to power their laser rifles to devastating effect, a nut the Alliance had never been able to crack. Several wheeled vehicles armed with enormous Gatling gun-style weaponry were shooting at random buildings as well as people. I was witnessing first-hand the cruelty, the mindlessness, the pure evil that had seen them annex almost half of the galaxy. We were but a tiny community, a speck in the soup; we might even have been ignored had they sailed into our airspace under normal circumstances. But we had angered them. We had wounded them. And that would not stand.

  ‘Psst! Kev!’ came a voice from my right. With a sensation of overwhelming relief such as I had not felt since I finished watching Das Boot at Owen Coyle’s house (I’d been bursting for the loo but Owen refused to let me leave, constantly saying, ‘This is a good bit!’), I saw Gerry waving to me through the fug. Crouching, I dashed over to join him behind a partially demolished wall close to Flix with Barrington12 hot on my heels. Gerry looked exhausted and afraid. I knew the feeling.

  ‘Gerry, thank God,’ I said breathlessly. ‘They’re so quick. Such destruction in so little time. They’re a bad lot, these L’zuhl. I’ve always said that.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Gerry asked. ‘I heard there might be some escape shuttles at the bay but I don’t know.’

  ‘Nah,’ I replied evasively. ‘They’ll be long gone by now. We’re here for the long haul. Lord knows how long we’ve got left, mind. Where is our own military? I can’t see any – oh, speak of the devil.’

  The L’zuhl soldiers fell back as six Harbingers, the giant tank-like beasts I had first witnessed that day – so many years ago, it seemed – when Leigh had been patrolling the Compound while rumours of a spy were first doing the rounds. Here again was the man himself, leaning from the passenger-side door of one of them, rifle in hand. Whatever I thought of the man, I could not doubt his courage. He had had a chance to escape and yet he turned his back on it, preferring to lead his men on one final and surely futile last charge.

  The L’zuhl did seem to have been caught entirely by surprise, however, and Leigh got my hopes up by blasting several of them into oblivion. None of the Alliance weaponry could pierce that strexan armour but in a display of strategical inventiveness that even Sir Al Ferguson would have been proud of, he ordered his men to fire on the ground immediately before their feet and on the damaged buildings above, throwing them high into the air or crushing them beneath falling masonry. It was then that I spotted something which made my blood run cold.

  SMELLS LIKE TEAM SPIRIT

  In the shattered doorway of the café, Mr O’s Place, were several familiar faces who had evidently been waiting for any opportunity to make their escape. Led by Rodway, I watched several members of my squad – who had apparently been out for their lunch together, a heart-warming display of companionship from a football club that no longer existed – trying to make a dash for it. There was Gribble, Andy Gill, Little Dunc, Caines and Nightingale, as well as Alex Booth and Aidy Pain. Wiggins, my midfield lynchpin, was still horrifically out of shape and had in fact ballooned in size since the club had shut down.

  ‘Boys!’ I shouted. ‘This way!’

  In the carnage and confusion, they seemed unsure what to do – Rodway, Little Dunc, Nightingale and Alex Booth immediately headed in our direction but, true to contrary form, Aidy Pain decided that it would be safer to head back the way they had just come and Gribble and Wiggins followed, even though it was clear from my vantage point that they were heading straight into the danger zone.

  ‘That pig-headed idiot,’ I muttered as I watched them hurry away to their inevitable deaths. Then suddenly I had a brainwave.

  ‘Painy!’ I cried, my voice almost cracking with the strain of drowning out the sounds of battle. ‘Don’t come and hide over here!’

  Aidy skidded to a halt, the others almost clattering into him. He looked over at me and narrowed his eyes.

  ‘Sod that!’ he replied and immediately ran in my direction, taking the rest of his teammates with him. I grinned – my ingenious double-bluff had worked. The boy would never do a damn thing I wanted him to so I knew he’d enact the opposite of any instruction I gave out. Wiggins was breathless and sweating, trailing some way behind the others – but in actual fact, his increased girth was a real boon as he provided excellent cover for the other lads, shielding them from the L’zuhl line of sight as they reached relative safety. The L’zuhl themselves were too preoccupied with the onslaught from our forces from Fort Emmeline to really notice, so I stood up and whistled to my boys, barely making myself heard through the thick fog of war. Andy Gill grabbed Rodway’s shoulder, pointing in our direction. As they hurried to join us, I noticed Little Dunc inadvertently kick something that went skitting along the ground and stopped close to our hiding spot. Dunc was terribly cross-eyed at the best of times and his coordination was all over the shop – he was into double figures for own goals already after shooting at what he thought was the opposition net.

  ‘Gaffer!’ Rodway said breathlessly. ‘Are we glad to see you. We thought we were dead meat.’

  ‘We may well be yet,’ I warned him. ‘Unless we find a way to defeat these buggers, we’re none of us going home to a hot meal and a bath tonight.’

  As Leigh’s soldiers continued to engage the L’zuhl in close combat, I cast about to find something, anything with which we could help them.

  ‘Gaffer,’ Rodway said, leaning in so that the other players wouldn’t hear him. ‘What about Gerry? I mean, you and I both know what he can do… what he’s capable of. He might be our only hope.’

  ‘No,’ I said firmly, raising a finger to silence him. ‘That is not an option. If Gerry goes nuclear, it could finish him. This may well be the moment that stupid prophecy spoke of and I’ll be damned if I sit here and let the man
kill himself.’

  If the Mullet God wanted to obliterate the L’zuhl that was fine by me – but he was not taking my best friend along with him.

  ‘What’s that one doing?’ whispered Gribble, my centre-half. He was the tallest man in the squad and physically incapable of ducking his head down below the rim of the wall, which – while it left him slightly exposed – allowed me to utilise him as a sort of periscope to observe what was happening out in the square. I could have asked Barrington12 but I was too concerned that he might then make himself a target – for soldiers on both sides. Not only that, but Barrington12 had taken it upon himself to clumsily pat each of the lads on the back once they had made it over to our hiding spot and to tell them that everything would be okay, an act of compassion that I could see had brought some small reassurance to some very anxious faces. He was already more than doing his part for our cause. Gribble explained that one of the L’zuhl soldiers had wandered close by, limping badly and apparently frantically scanning the rubble in search of something. I risked a quick look. Then I realised: the soldier was unarmed – that’s why he was panicking. He must have been parted from his gun during the battle. Suddenly, I remembered the object Dunc had kicked while scurrying over to our hiding place and I quickly reached an arm over the wall to retrieve it, hand flapping against the stone floor until finally I grasped it. Dunc’s knackered eyes may have been a liability on a match day but now they had given us the equivalent of a last-gasp penalty against the odds: it was a L’zuhl laser rifle. I was quite sure that where our own side’s weaponry came up short in terms of getting through their thick armour, this one would do the job just fine. I held it in both hands, surprised by its weight but quietly impressed by its sleek silver design. There were all manner of strange symbols etched into the surface – instinctively, I pressed the button that looked exactly like the England Three Lions crest (if you tilted your head to the left and squinted until you were almost blind, I mean) and it illuminated in a cool orange light. I slipped a finger over the trigger and aimed it at the flailing soldier. Then, I hesitated.

  ‘Go on, boss,’ Rodway urged. ‘He’s a sitting duck!’

  I sighed and shook my head.

  ‘I can’t shoot an unarmed man, boys,’ I said. ‘I’m not Paul Ince when that pensioner gatecrashed his barbecue. It’s just not on, I don’t care how evil they are. We have to be better than them. It’s the only way to—’

  Annoyingly, my finger then accidentally grazed against the trigger and I ended up blowing the lone soldier to smithereens after all, to a roar of approval from my lads. Look, these things happen.

  ‘Well, my point still stands,’ I said begrudgingly. Then Rodway pointed – four more soldiers were running in our direction: our cover had been blown. This time I didn’t hesitate – these were fully armed and ready to kill. I had to protect my lads at all costs. Nothing else mattered in that moment. I opened fire and the beam of the laser sliced each of them clean in half; they toppled sickeningly to the floor.

  ‘Great shot, Kev!’ Gerry said approvingly.

  ‘I’ll tell you what, anyone could conquer the galaxy if they had one of these,’ I said. ‘Right: that’s four more of these rifles out there needing new ownership. Come on, boys! Let’s get at this shower – it’s still 0–0!’

  Rodway, Andy Gill and Little Dunc scooped up the guns of three of the fallen L’zuhl soldiers as more approached, peeling away from the main conflict with Leigh’s men to tackle us. I tossed the fourth rifle to Barrington12 who looked at it with great curiosity and then did nothing.

  ‘Get stuck in!’ I cried.

  ‘WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO STICK IT, KEVIN KEEGAN?’ he asked innocently.

  ‘Don’t tempt me, son,’ I muttered, but didn’t have time to explain so dispatched him to guard Gerry behind the wall, with orders to shoot anyone who approached.

  ‘Except if it’s me,’ I added, remembering how relentlessly literal his interpretations were. ‘Or any of the boys. Or anyone on our side. Look, just shoot the L’zuhl if they come after Gerry, yeah?’

  I hurried back into the fray and noted with dismay that three of our Harbingers had already been reduced to cinders. Leigh himself was nowhere to be seen in the mayhem.

  ‘Right!’ I cried. ‘Two banks of three, high-pressing game!’ I looked at Caines and Nightingale and remembered the tactical advice Gillian had given me in her office that day I’d been angling for some new players. ‘You two – I want you to attack from the back down the flanks, supporting those at the front. Booth, I want you in the hole as a playmaker, do your thing and take out as many of them as you can. Gribble, protect the defence! Painy – don’t protect the defence!’

  Painy immediately set about protecting the defence.

  It all happened so fast – it was clear that the L’zuhl were rattled to be facing such unexpected resistance. Gerry tried to follow me as we drove them back but I signalled to him to get down behind the crumbling wall. I waved to him to turn around and face away from the field of conflict – he looked confused and unwilling, but he must have seen something in my eyes because he did as he was told. I didn’t want him to see. I couldn’t risk his being activated again.

  We took down the advancing posse; their own shooting was wayward and unfocused, like the time Shaka Hislop pleaded with me to let him play up front for the opening match of the season. If not for the invasion, there would still be lost footballs on top of the St James’ Park roof today.

  At one point, Caines stumbled and lost his rifle with a L’zuhl footsoldier bearing down on him. I tossed my weapon to Andy Gill – who was closer to his stricken teammate – and he then threw it with expert accuracy to Caines, who caught it and took the soldier down in the nick of time.

  ‘Well done, Gilly!’ I shouted. ‘Gerry told me you’d been struggling to understand how to take a throw-in but you’ve just proved him wrong, kid!’

  ‘I can take throw-ins,’ he grumbled irritably, ‘Gerry just gets them mixed up with free kicks.’

  Our own small victory was at hand – however, as the last soldier fell, his rifle butt struck the pavement and a beam of hot blue light burst forth and cleanly took off Little Dunc’s leg below the knee. The stench of simmering flesh was stomach-churning. He didn’t even scream – the shock of it saw him tumble to the ground, all the colour draining from his young face. The real sickener was that it was his left leg – the boy was useless on his right and he’d be the first to admit that. I hooked my hands under his arms and dragged him back over to the wall.

  ‘You’ll be all right, lad,’ I reassured him unconvincingly. ‘You can run it off. Maybe.’

  ‘KEVIN KEEGAN,’ Barrington12 said from behind me. ‘IF YOU WOULD DIRECT YOUR ATTENTION BRIEFLY TO YOUR RIGHT, YOU WILL SEE SOMEONE WHO MAY BE ABLE TO ASSIST IN OUR CURRENT QUANDARY.’

  I looked up as directed and Barrington12 had played an absolute blinder. He had caught sight of Dr Pebble-Mill carrying a Gladstone bag and flitting from one wounded figure to another, miraculously evading any fire, friendly or otherwise.

  ‘Doc!’ I roared. ‘Over here! Man down!’

  A flicker of relief seemed to pass over his sweating, dirt-streaked face as he hurried across.

  ‘What are you doing here, Keegan?’ he asked as he knelt beside poor Dunc. He sounded exhausted and little wonder. ‘Not that I’m not pleased to see a familiar face, you understand. You had the chance to get on a shuttle and get a hundred light years away from this nebula, why didn’t you take it?’

  I could feel the eyes of my lads, and of Gerry, turn to me at this revelation but I had no time to bask in their quiet respect (though if we somehow survived, I made a mental note to bring it up in future whenever anyone had a pop at me about something).

  ‘Same as you, Doc,’ I said. ‘Same as the General. I couldn’t leave people behind to die while I went off on some jolly. We’re in this together. That’s the only way mankind sees this through.’

  ‘You’re lucky, actually,’ Dr Pebbl
e-Mill said to Dunc, who was hyperventilating with his head in the doctor’s lap.

  ‘Am I?’ Little Dunc asked, glancing down at what remained of his left leg.

  ‘Well, no, I suppose not,’ Dr Pebble-Mill said, ‘but the heat from the laser instantly cauterised the wound, otherwise you might have bled out. So… every cloud and all that. However, there might be something I can… do I have your permission to try an experiment?’

  ‘Of course, anything!’ I cried.

  ‘I was talking to the patient,’ Dr Pebble-Mill replied, but Little Dunc was now close to passing out from the pain. The doctor produced an alarmingly large hypodermic needle and filled it with a clear liquid. ‘We have young Rodway to thank for this,’ he said, and with a deep breath, he jabbed it into the skin above Dunc’s knee. After only a few moments some colour returned to his cheeks and his whimpered, nonsensical mutterings ceased.

  ‘Am I… cured?’ he croaked.

  ‘Of a severed leg?’ Dr Pebble-Mill replied. ‘Alas not. But that should go some way to stemming the pain and keeping you alive.’

  ‘What does it have to do with me?’ Rodway asked.

  ‘Well, when we brought you in for testing after your jaunt to the volcano,’ Dr Pebble-Mill explained, ‘I took away blood samples for some extra experimental testing. Out of hours, off my own back – a little frowned upon, but sod it. Anyway, whatever happened out there to heal you, there was something strange and, well, alien in the cells I tested. I’ve been playing around with a serum and finally prepared something last night – I just needed a test subject. I guess a warzone will provide one eventually.’

  I glanced at Gerry who quickly looked away. Whatever the doc had extracted from Rodway’s system was evidently not on the same level as Slasabo-tik’s undiluted abilities, otherwise Dunc’s leg would have grown back right there and then. But nevertheless—

  ‘The possibilities are extraordinary,’ Dr Pebble-Mill said, finishing my thought for me. Dunc was sitting up and, despite being down one limb, he looked perky, awake and pain-free. I was stunned – but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. The clouds above the Compound parted as a dozen more L’zuhl warships entered Palangonia’s atmosphere.