Undercover Operations
here's my fic. i had it on a word doc, but i don't know what people are gonna do if they only had it on the boards.
UNDERCOVER OPERATIONS
PROLOGUE
As he approached the fence, Orim paused, wondering, not for the first time, whether this was a good idea. Despite what people told him, he didn’t believe that the Glukkons would have built this fence without good reason. Glukkons aren’t known for throwing away hard-earned profits, after all.
He turned back, and saw the others looking at him, expectantly. They’d all been over the wall, including his brother, Arim. If he turned back now, he’d be a laughing stock forever.
He approached the gap in the fence, heart pounding. The story told to them by the shamans was that the Glukkons had tried to exploit the Great Forest, but that something had stopped them, and they had covered up the whole operation, and built the Wall out of frustration at the forest, or possibly to keep in whatever had kept them out. There were creatures in there that Mudokons know only from myths and stories, or so the rumours go. Certainly those few brave individuals who have explored deep into the dark depths have told of strange beasts, or at least unknown creatures.
He steeled himself as he reached the bushes that masked the gap from the slig patrols. He parted the bushes, and peered through the gap.
If anything, he felt disappointed. He had expected the other side to be dark and humid, like he’d been taught the jungle was like at ground level. What he saw was a grassy hill, not unlike the one his friends were waiting on behind him. He shielded his eyes from the glare of the bright Odd sun, and tried to estimate the height of the hill. Not big enough to hide the trees, if he could believe the rumours of their size. Of course, it’d be stupid to expect to see full size trees. After all, this was the edge of the forest. Even so, he’d have expected to see something.
He decided to climb the hill out of curiosity. It’d be a shame to come this far and not see even one tree. He didn’t know what to expect, but he never would have expected what he saw. He gasped.
“The others have to hear about th–”
CHAPTER 1
“So, are we all here?”
Rettick groaned. He wondered why Greeb bothered asking. It wouldn’t make any difference if someone wasn’t, nothing important was ever said here. The Slig Revolutionary Movement was a joke. In the past, there’d been hundreds of them, and Glukkons would shiver at the mention of their name. And now? 10 members. Ten. There was no hope of revolution here; they should change their name to the Slig Getting-the-hell-out-of-here Movement; that was all they ever planned. Or thought about planning.
He glanced round idly, and noticed something. Surprisingly, they weren’t all there. He made a quick metal count of the others, and only saw seven. He wondered who was missing. Greeb was there, of course, sounding inspiring despite having next to nothing to say. Tillyn, optimistic as ever, was completely taken in by Greeb’s tough talking. Rettick wasn’t sure, but there was definitely something… Odd about Tillyn. Gormanul was his usual silent self. Crim was sulking about something; Odd knows he’s got a lot to sulk about. Jal, one of the Muds, was the only person apart from Greeb to be saying anything; he was going off on one of his rants again. Meet was sitting thoughtfully on the desk, while Sillan buzzed around his head.
Who did that leave?
“Where’s Sal? And Groz?” Rettick asked, making Greeb pause just as he was getting to the really good part of his speech.
Greeb looked round, and noticed that they were two members short. “Well, erm… I’m not sure. Who answered their names?” In fact, no-one had answered any names, but Greeb didn’t like to admit that he wasn’t paying attention.
“Shush…” whispered Gormanul, which was a particularly long sentence for him.
The room went silent, and they could hear footsteps. Not metallic, so not slig footsteps, it was probably a mud or a glukkon. They all held their breath.
Groz rounded a corner, at full speed, and would have been waving his arms if he had any. “Patrols! They’re checking all the Barrack rooms for mud slaves hiding under bunks and things! They killed Sal as she slept, and they’re moving fast!”
CHAPTER 2
“Quick, take up the floor panels!” cried Rettick, “Jal, you take Meet and Sillan down below and keep quiet! Greeb, Gorm, you’d better go too!”
Greeb shook his head, “No, we can stay up here, we could pretend we work here, like you and Tillyn. You’d better go though, Groz.”
Groz bit his lip and nodded in agreement, and hurried nervously out of the door.
Greeb glanced at Rettick, “Poor Kid,” he said, sympathetically. Grozit Jr. was the adopted son of the factory manager, Grozit Senior, and lived in constant fear of being found to be involved with revolutionaries, even if they were pathetic revolutionaries.
“Perhaps we’d better act normal, and pretend we don’t know they’re coming,” suggested Crim from the floor. A couple of years back, Crim had been involved in an accident, and broke his spine just above the tail. It had been thought not to be serious, but it had resulted in his being unable to use the Vykkers’ mechanical add-ons, like Pants or Wings. The Glukkons had judged him to be unable to continue profitably with his job, and he now lived on Glukkon Disability Benefit – ‘Shut Up, Stop Whining, and Look After Yourself!’ Having to fend for himself had given Crim a pessimistic outlook on life, and a very practical nature.
“You’re right,” Tillyn agreed, and fell onto his bunk, faking sleep. Crim and Rettick sat down to a game of Gales [the slig version of Draughts], while Greeb and Gormanul pretended to exercise.
“Right, lads,” shouted the sergeant Slig, who led the patrol into the chamber, “We want to look everywhere, leave no stone unturned. Crax, you check those cupboards, Taarl, you check under the bunks – All of them, including the ones folded into the wall – Briori, Tunk, you keep an eye on these five, they look guilty about something.”
“But Drak, - ” began the slig addressed as Tunk.
“You’ll call me Sir, I could have you thrown in the pits!”
Tunk grimaced, “Sorry Sir, but shouldn’t this lot be at work now?”
Rettick shot Tunk a quick look of hatred, and vowed to kill him if he ever had the chance.
Drak, thought for a second, “Yeah, you pieces of shit, why aren’t you at work? Get to your posts!” They began to move reluctantly towards the doorway. “Wait! The Boss said we should look out for volunteers for some suicide mission he’s got to send out. By not doing anything useful, I think you’ve just volunteered! Come on, guys, this lot don’t have the intelligence to hide anything, you’d better move on, Taarl, you’re in charge, I’ll catch up later, I gotta take these ‘volunteers’ to the Boss!”
“Yessir,” Taarl and the others filed out.
“Alright, you lot, follow me, except you,” Drak addressed Crim, “You’re a cripple, aren’t you? You just make yourself useful somehow!” and he led Rettick, Greeb, Tillyn, and Gormanul away.
CHAPTER 3
After Drak had taken the others out, Crim banged on the floor.
“Guys, they’ve gone, and they took the others with them!”
At Crim’s signal, Jal’s one arm pushed up one of the floor panels.
“With them? Where?” he asked, urgently, as Meet and Sillan joined them.
“I don’t know!” Crim whined, “The Sergeant said they’d been volunteered for something, so they’ve probably been taken to the Drill Hall!”
“Then let’s go!” exclaimed Jal decisively, “We can at least see where they’re being sent to.”
“What if we’re spotted?” pointed out Meet, stopping Jal in his tracks.
“Well, we’ve been able to move around before, haven’t we?” asked Jal.
“Yes,” replied Crim, “But only with one of the others pretending to be guarding us. Now that they’re not with us, heads will turn our way.”
“And then heads will roll,” muttered Meet cynically.
“Well, what if Sillan pretended to be some new kind of Slig flying equipment for you, Crim?”
Sillan buzzed angrily.
“Are you Crazy?” shouted Crim, “I’m not sitting on him! We’ve never had a test flight, what if he malfunctions under my weight?”
“He’s carried mining equipment before, hasn’t he?” pointed out Meet, not knowing how close he was to an untimely end.
Fortunately for Meet, Crim would never have been able to reach his neck, so he settled for a hard stare.
Sillan beeped urgently.
Meet cocked his head briefly, listening to Sillan, “Yes, but you’ve never had problems with balance before, have you?” Meet’s nasty experiences under the knife of the Vykkers had left him with small Slig-type mechanical legs, permanently attached, a mechanical arm, and an almost telepathic understanding with Sillan, a prototype of the Drones, the next generation of Magog Security [fast, efficient, unpossessable, and best of all requiring no wages. The only reason Sillan was rejected was because he had opinions]
Sillan bleeped insistently.
“Well, I suppose you’re right,” confessed Meet.
“Well, what did he say?” asked Jal.
“He said he might unbalance when the weight is on top of him.”
“Thank Odd!” Crim offered up a silent prayer of thanks.
They sat around, thinking.
“So, are you, like, totally incapable of wearing the pants, Crim?” enquired Jal.
“I can wear them, but I can’t control them, because of my severed nerves.”
Jal looked thoughtful, “Sillan could control them…”
Crim almost exploded: “I’ve told you, I don’t want to put my trust in that lump of metal.”
Sillan bleeped his agreement.
“He says he wouldn’t put his trust in a chunk of meat, either!” translated Meet.
Crim’s eyes narrowed.
CHAPTER 4
When Orim awoke it was too dark to see anything. The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain on the back of his head, and then darkness. He tried desperately to remember where this had been. Over the wall, he thought, My Rites of Passage. I had to go over to prove myself. But he couldn’t remember seeing the trees. Had he dreamed it all? No, he thought, My bedroom is lighter than this; Where are my fireflies? That led him to the uncomfortable question of where he was now.
The floor, for he felt sure nothing this hard could be a bed, was cold. He banged the floor. Metal. That ruled out a cave, and he realised that it also meant that he was unlikely to be among friends, as all his friends had stone or wooden floors.
He forced himself to sit up. Now that his eyes had gotten accustomed to the dark, he could see that it wasn’t really pitch black, but that there was a faint purple light coming from somewhere [it was too faint to make out where; it seemed to come from all the walls, floor and ceiling]. What makes purple light? he asked himself, Nothing natural. Crap.
The Glukkons. That had been what he’d seen. Instead of acres of trees, he’d seen a desolate wasteland full of Glukkon machinery and Slig guards, as well as a few things he didn’t recognise. It didn’t make sense. He’d always been told that they couldn’t cut down the trees in the Great Forest. After all, if they could, why hadn’t they before? This raised a lot of questions, but answered one: He was obviously in a prison cell.
He felt around on the floor, thinking that there’d be prison food, when suddenly he was blinded by a sudden rush of light from a doorway that just opened to his left. As he watched, the light was blocked again by some all-too-familiar shapes…
CHAPTER 5
“Ok, does that feel comfortable?”
Crim trembled, making himself wobble on his legs. As Jal steadied him, he addressed Sillan: “If I fall off, you’re scrap, understand?”
Sillan bleeped. Meet stifled a laugh, and made no attempt to translate for the others.
Jal cleared his throat. “So, the Drill Hall, then?”
Crim swallowed, and nodded. “Let’s go, then.”
When Grozit Jr. returned to the bunkroom to find it empty, he immediately assumed the worst.
“Guys? You there? What happened…?”
He banged on the floor panels but got no response. He looked for a note or something to say where they’d gone, and when he didn’t find one he looked for traces of blood.
“C’mon, where are you?” he whispered desperately. He was so busy searching for clues that might lead him to the others that he didn’t notice a figure loom in the doorway.
“Ah, Junior, there you are.”
Grozit Junior spun round and found himself face to face with Grozit Senior. {Writer’s Note: From now on, Grozit Jr. will be known as Groz, and Grozit Sr. as Grozit. It’s simpler that way}
“It’s about time you and I had a little talk…”
CHAPTER 6
Rettick had never seen a Vykker before, and now there was one right before him. They were in the Drill Hall, along with about 50 other Sligs. Greeb, Tillyn, and him were stood together on the front row, but Gormanul had been stood at the back with the Bigbro Sligs.
“…Very dangerous and possibly mad.” The Vykker, despite being just over half the height of the Glukkons, seemed to be running the talk, and Snikkit, the Glukkon Vice-Moolahmaker of the factory, could barely get a word in edgeways. “He was last seen heading towards the forest, and as this was the nearest large-scale industry in the area…” [he and Snikkit exchanged glances suspiciously. Rettick wondered what they were up to] “…we decided to base our search here.”
Apparently, one of the scientists had been working on a formula that did something to people’s bodies [Rettick had never been good with scientific words] that enabled them assume any shape they wished at will. Unfortunately for the Vykkers, he had then ‘gone mad’ and run away, taking the formula with him.
A Slig, wearing pants Rettick didn’t recognise, tapped the Vykker on the shoulder. The Vykker covered the microphone with a hand, and the slig whispered something in his ear. The Vykker looked shocked.
“…Escaped?” he exclaimed, before remembering the audience and lowering his voice again. After a heated exchange, he uncovered the microphone and spoke into it.
“There appear to have been some… complications. Dr Mildar was working on a particular project at the time of his, err, madness. It appears that, while we were focused on recapturing our professor, one of these creatures has been neglected and allowed to escape. It appears to be heading in the direction of the forest, so…” [he exchanged a glance with Snikkit. There was definitely something going on there, Rettick thought] “…there shouldn’t be any serious problems. Just keep your eyes open.
“I am pleased to note,” he continued, “the high turnout here. It is good that so many of you volunteered for this mission, but there is really no need for such a large operation. A small party, possibly 10 or so, is all that will be necessary. Thank you.” The Vykker sat down. He seemed unhappy at what he had just said, and Rettick guessed that Grozit and Snikkit hadn’t let him have as many as he wanted. He noticed Drak, the slig who had brought them here, moving among the crowd, picking out sligs to join the party. He reached Rettick.
“Oh, it’s you, is it? Well, I think you and your friends will be just desperate to go on this suicide mission, won’t you?”
Rettick gritted his teeth. “I suppose so, sir.”
“Right, you’re in.” Drak addressed Snikkit, “I’ve selected some of our best, sir!”
“Well done,” Snikkit congratulated him, “You will, of course, be leading the party, won’t you?”
“Me? But, I’ve worked hard! I picked out the volunteers!”
Snikkit smiled, “As you said, we need the best on this mission.”
Drak’s face fell, and Rettick almost felt sorry for him. He suspected that Snikkit probably thought that Drak was getting a bit too powerful, and wanted rid of him.
Snikkit addressed the crowd, “Oh, by the way, whether or not you have been selected for the mission, all of you will be kept in solitary confinement until the operation is complete. After all, we wouldn’t want any vicious rumours being spread, would we?”
And he smiled in that way he had.
CHAPTER 7
“Name?”
“I’ve already told you, my name’s Orim.”
“We want your real name.”
“Why have you assumed the form of a Mudokon?”
“Where is the formula?”
Orim was tired of these questions. He’d told them the truth, and they’d not believed him. If only he knew what they wanted him to say, he could say it and be done with it, but they hadn’t given him any clues as to what they wanted to hear. Whatever he told them just made them angrier.
He was strapped to a low table, and there were shapes around him. He could vaguely make out a Glukkon and two sligs, and the other shape could be a Vykker, although he’d never seen one before, so it was difficult to be sure. Another thing that made it difficult to make out what was around him was the bright light they were shining in his eyes.
He wondered how long they’d been asking him the same questions. It seemed like forever. He’d tried to make out more of his surroundings, but the light had made that difficult, and his captors got angry if he looked away from them. All he had been able to make out was shelves stacked with what looked like medical equipment. The room seemed to be bathed in the same purple light that his cell had been, although the main source of illumination was the light in his eyes. The purple light seemed to emanate from the walls, giving the room an eerie atmosphere. He noticed that the Glukkon did not seem comfortable with these surroundings either.
“What do you want me to say?” The words just slipped out as he was thinking them. One of the sligs whacked him with its gun, and the glukkon shouted at him.
“Don’t get Clever!”
The Vykker seemed bored. “Maybe he’s telling the truth. We should throw him back to his cell. If we observe him, we can determine whether or not he is Dr. Mildar.”
The Glukkon seemed unhappy being ordered around, and stormed off. At the Vykker’s word, the two sligs untied Orim and hefted him onto their shoulders. He caught brief glimpses of the corridor on the way to the cell, but could make out nothing but the same dull purple glow that seemed to come from everywhere. They reached the cell, and Orim was thrown unceremoniously inside. He turned to ask if he could have some food, but the door was slammed and bolted before he had drawn breath.
CHAPTER 8
“When I first came to this area, I had nothing. My last business venture had ended disastrously, and I was practically penniless. The others all thought I was mad, setting up a Weapons factory in the middle of nowhere. It just didn’t seem profitable to them, what with transportation costs in getting the Weapons to those who need them. What they didn’t know was that I had a reason for placing the Factory where I did.”
Groz looked up, interested for the first time since his father had started the little lecture. Grozit often gave Groz these lectures, to try and educate him in the ways of Profit. They were often all the same, but this was something new. Grozit seemed to be on the verge of some great confession.
Grozit pressed a button on his desk, and one wall lit up with a map of the local area.
“The Great Forest, as it is known. A vast expanse of jungle, basically. In total area, it takes up nearly a third of Mudos, and its extent into the other continents is still unknown. It holds an incredibly large amount of natural resources, and yet it has not been exploited. How can this be? You’d have thought that such a vast area of natural resources would have disappeared long ago, in the early years of Magog expansion, wouldn’t you? In fact, there have been many attempts down the years at opening up logging and trapping operations in the area, and all of them, every single one, has met with failure. Something has happened that has brought the operations to a halt. A Landslide, destroying expensive equipment; an attack by wild animals, killing the site manager; something that has made it more trouble than it’s worth.
“A certain entrepreneurial executive, namely me, became curious about this phenomenon, and decided to investigate. I thought it quite unusual that disaster would always strike when large-scale operations were undertaken, and yet individuals or small groups can walk with comparative safety in the forest. Unfortunately, my investigations were expensive, and I went bankrupt, losing my business. That was when I decided to set up my next business venture closer to the forest, so that I could continue with my operations at a lower cost. This has worked successfully, and after only four years I discovered the reason for the failings of the large-scale operations. There is something in that forest with powerful – and you may laugh at this – Magical abilities. Once I knew about this, I was only a short step away from finding a way to counter the phenomenon. Take a look at this.”
Grozit pressed another button, and the map image zoomed in on the edge of the forest. Groz’s eyes widened. Where he would have expected to see acres of trees, there was only barren wasteland. The camera panned across, until it settled on the image of a thriving industrial area, complete with small temporary factories and accommodation and heavy earth-moving equipment. As Groz watched, one of the mighty trees fell, and he could see a small party of slig carrying a huge corpse to what he assumed was the temporary meat-processing plant.
“This is a real-time image. You are watching what is actually happening as we speak.
This huge operation is all the result of my project. The forest is so huge that we have barely scratched the surface. What we have here is a tremendous expanse of resources. It will take us centuries to work our way through the forest, and we’ll be making huge profits all the way. Well, what do you think?”
Groz was speechless. This was too much to take in. “Why do you want my opinion?”
“Because you will inherit the business when I die. This business can conceivably continue forever. There are a few more details that you need to know, such as how I was able to succeed where so many others have failed, but you will learn all of this in time.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because I feel that you are old enough to handle it. There are certain rites of passage that all young glukkons must go through, and you’ve reached that age.” Grozit smiled happily. “Today is the day of your first Corporate Takeover.”
CHAPTER 9
“Can we stop for a while, now? This is a little painful, and I’m sure Sillan wouldn’t mind a rest, either.”
Sillan buzzed in approval.
“Okay, I suppose we could wait for a while.” Jal sighed. They hadn’t got very far, but Sillan and Crim had been working hard, and it hadn’t been easy for them, especially when Crim started to fall over.
“Maybe you could have a scout on ahead and see what we’ll be up against, Sill?” suggested Meet.
Sillan made a kind of sighing noise, and flew off down the corridor.
“Is it really going to be worth all this trouble?” asked Crim, “I mean, by the time we get to the Drill Hall, they’ll probably have all been sent off somewhere. Even if we do get there while they’re still there, what are we going to do?”
“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” Jal replied, “We’ve got to do something, or we’d - ”
“Someone’s coming!” whispered Meet, “I can hear footsteps!”
“Quick! Into position, Crim!”
“Where’s that Drone got to?”
“No time to worry about him, we’ll just have to bluff our way through it!”
A heavily armoured slig rounded the corner, and stopped when he saw Jal.
“Shouldn’t you three be at work or in your cells?”
“I’m just escorting these two back to their cell, it’s the end of their shift.” said Crim, quickly.
The slig nodded. “Just get there quickly, there’s something happening in the Drill Hall, and something tells me we’re all safer if we stay away.” He turned and started to walk away.
Crim sighed with relief, but it was short-lived. The slig turned back.
“Oh, yeah, you’re meant to stand to attention when you see a superior slig, I’ll let you off if you just do it now.”
Crim froze.
“Well? It’s not difficult.”
Crim licked his lips, “Couldn’t I just salute?”
“I’d prefer it if you’d stand to attention, if you would.”
Crim tensed up, “No.”
“What do you mean, No?”
“I’m not going to stand to attention. I respect you, but I’d prefer to acknowledge that with a salute.” he saluted, as if to prove himself.
The larger slig looked at him suspiciously. “What are you –”
Sillan hit him in the back of the skull, making a crunching sound, which was not the most pleasant sound the others had ever heard.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Is he dead?” asked Jal quietly.
Meet crouched down. “Looks like it.”
Crim groaned. “So we’re murderers now?”
“Self-Defense?” hazarded Jal.
“Yeah, right,” Crim laughed hollowly, “Like the Gluks would care. They’ll just throw us into the pits without a second thought. We don’t have any rights, you know.”
“We’d better be somewhere else.” pointed out Meet, “He said something about the Drill Hall, so it looks like we’re heading in the right direction.”
“Couldn’t we do something about the body?” Crim looked down at the huddled shape with disgust, “I mean, it’s not just that it seems disrespectful, but the sooner someone finds the body, the sooner they’ll be after us.”
Jal sighed. “Alright. Sillan, pick the lock on that locker, will you?”
Sillan buzzed quietly, and got on with it.
“He didn’t seem that bad.” Crim mused. “I mean, there’s some who’d have beaten me to death for not standing to attention.”
“We can’t be looking back. It’s done now, and we’ve got to focus on staying alive. If we have any hope of one day overthrowing those Gluks, there’s gonna be lots of deaths anyway.” replied Jal as he lifted the body into the locker. He was surprised at how light it was.
As they moved off slowly and silently in the direction of the Drill Hall, the silent lens of the Security Camera followed them slowly…
CHAPTER 10
Groz collapsed onto his bed. His luxurious sheets had never seemed so attractive. He had been on his feet for nearly two hours, while his ‘father’ had taught him some of the tricks of his trade. He’d watched as his father had mercilessly bought out a small logging industry near Paramonia, and then ruthlessly liquidated the industry for immediate profit so that he could use their equipment for his own logging industry in the Great Forest.
Logging in the Great Forest. That came as a bit of a shock. His tutors had always taught him that the Great Forest was protected by evil magical forces. He’d never believed them, he’d always thought that that was just superstition, that there must be a more scientific explanation for their inability to chop down those trees. So to be told by his own adopted father that not only was the magic all too real, but that his father had somehow managed to overcome that magic and begin exploiting the forest, had come as a shock to Groz’s system.
Groz sat bolt upright. His friends! They were in trouble! He’d allowed his father to distract him, and they could be dead or something by now.
He pulled on his trousers. They were unfashionable clothes for glukkons, but they allowed him to run at full speed instead of hopping everywhere, and he reckoned he’d need his full speed soon.
Where could they be? he wondered. I last saw them in the dorm earlier, but they weren’t there when I went back there. I know, I’ll head for the Security Office; maybe the cameras will have picked something up.
Pausing only to shove his security card, mobile fone, and pistol into his deep pockets, Groz began running full pelt down the corridor towards the Security Office.
CHAPTER 11
Rettick sat on a bunk, bored out of his mind. The rest of the team didn’t seem to be in any higher spirits. There was him, Greeb, Tillyn, and Gorm, sitting together, not talking. There wasn’t really anything to say. They’d been locked in this dormitory since the meeting in the hall, and conversation had worn out long ago. Drak, the sergeant who’d been put in charge of the mission, was sitting dejectedly on his bunk. He seemed to be convinced that none of them were going to be returning from the trip.
Of the others, Rettick recognised one of the three bigbros as one of the patrol who had ransacked their dormitory earlier that day, but was unable to put a name to the face until he was introduced as Briori. The other two bigbros were unfamiliar, and were introduced as Lork and Frag. The two remaining sligs were called Nad and Volt. Volt had been fitted with a pair of wings so that he could act as a scout for the group. He was a bit pissed off at that, because it stopped him from getting any sleep. Nad was sleeping, possibly just to piss off Volt.
Rettick wondered how much longer it would be before they were sent off, and whether they were going to come back.
Greeb leaned over to Rettick and whispered, “This could be our chance!”
“What for?” asked Rettick.
“To Escape!”
“What, you mean get away? Never come back?”
“Yes!”
“What about Crim, Jal, and the others? Do we leave them here?”
“Well,” Greeb was silent for a second, “No, we’d come back sometime, obviously.”
“Okay, but we’ll have to lose the patrol sometime, unless they’re prepared to come with us. Where are we going to go?”
“Somewhere. Anywhere. We can burn that bridge when we come to it.”
Rettick noticed Volt trying to listen in, and motioned to Greeb to be quiet. If we ever come to it, he thought.
Chapter 12
Quettil hated being caught sleeping on the job, so he’d rigged up a detection system. As soon as someone entered the outer lobby, Quettil’s alarm rang. He had it set up far enough away so that he had time to wake up and pretend he hadn’t been sleeping before the angry glukkon – they always seemed angry about something – rounded the corner. Or so he thought. The fact is that Glukkons rarely run, as fashionable clothes don’t tend to let them. Unfortunately for Quettil, this Glukkon didn’t seem to care much for fashion, for he wore trousers, which were almost unknown among Glukkons, so Quettil was taken completely by surprise when he rounded the corner at full pelt almost before Quettil had even sat up fully.
“The security camera tapes, where are they?” the glukkon asked, yanking open a drawer with his toes and inspecting the contents.
“I wasn’t sleeping!” Quettil shouted, leaping to his feet, “I was checking… Camera Tapes? What do you want them for?”
The glukkon stopped his rummaging, and turned slowly. “Were you asleep, just now?”
“What, No!! I was checking my eyelids for holes! Camera Tapes, now where could they be…?”
The glukkon smiled. “Do you sleep on the job often?”
“I wasn’t… I think they’re…” Quettil tailed off, as he saw the expression on the gluk’s face. “They’re in that box in the corner.” He gestured vaguely.
“Well, get them out for me. Thank You. Well, I don’t think you’ll be needed any more, have the rest of the day off.”
Quettil couldn’t believe his luck. “Yessir!” He saluted.
“Oh, and by the way,” the Glukkon switched on the standard stern ‘I-could-have-you-liquidated-so-watch-it’ voice, “Don’t let me ever catch you asleep on the job again! Just this once, I haven’t seen you and you haven’t seen me, agreed?”
“B’s!” Quettil saluted again, for good measure, and sped off down the corridor. It was only two hours later that he realised he had no idea who that glukkon was.
Groz waited until the slig was out of earshot, and then whooped for joy. He’d done it! He must have got to the security tapes before any tapes of his friends had been discovered, or else the alarm would have been raised. Unless there was no tape evidence, or his friends had been dealt with too swiftly to need the alarm… But he didn’t allow his mind to go down that route, he merely silently thanked his Advanced Blackmail tutor for forcing the lessons into him, and began to sort through the tapes. He discounted any that were from before he left them, then settled down for a long vid-watching session.
CHAPTER 13
The trigger mechanism seemed smooth enough, but the cock could stand a little more oil. As he examined the definitely substandard piece of weaponry that had been set before him, Rettick wondered again if any of them were actually intended to return from this expedition. That Vykker had seemed sincere enough, but Rettick couldn’t shake the feeling that Grozit and Snikkit could have been pulling the wool over that guy’s eyes, and simply using the opportunity to get rid of some thorns in their side. Take Drak, for example. He seemed to have been enjoying his latest promotion far too much, so Snikkit could have decided that that sort of ambition was a threat, and sent him off. As for the rest of them, Drak had obviously been given orders to send troublemakers and slackers to the Drill Hall to be ‘volunteered’. The more Rettick thought about this, the more probable it seemed, so he decided to stop thinking about it for a while.
He glanced at the others, all of whom seemed to have been kitted out with the same shoddy equipment. Greeb and Drak seemed to be looking at theirs with suspicion, possibly having similar thoughts to those Rettick was having. Tillyn had hardly even glanced at his weapon, and seemed, bizarrely, to be genuinely excited about the trip ahead of him. He was talking animatedly to the slig known as Nad, who seemed extremely frightened at the prospect, but Tillyn seemed to be having a great calming effect on him. The other sligs seemed to be merely bored, with the exception of Volt, who finally had a large enough space to enjoy his wings.
A door whooshed open to Rettick’s left, and Snikkit entered with his ever-present slig bodyguards.
“Right then, you pathetic excuses for… err… Right. Rest period is over. From now on, you’ll have a harder time than you’ve ever had before in your pathetic lives. I’m sure you’ve all heard the stories about that forest, and I’ll tell you now: they’re all true. Most of them, anyway. That jungle is the most dangerous place in Mudos, and you can bet that’s where you’ll find that scientist of theirs. This’ll be difficult, but you can handle it. You know I’m unhappy about sending you away, but the Vykkers have us over a barrel. It was hard enough getting them to forgive us for the Gimmakon incident, if we aren’t seen to be at least trying to help, they won’t conduct any more research on our behalf. This formula is important to them, so try hard. We want them to owe us one.”
Rettick wondered how much of this was true. After all, he reasoned, if it really was that important, they would have been given better equipment.
“And as for this creature that has escaped, just stay out of its way.” He reached into his jacket pocket. “Apparently, the creature was fitted with a tracer sometime before it escaped, so this radar should come in useful. If you see a dot on the radar, just run the other way. I’m told its cry sounds like a scrab, and we all know scrabs don’t live in jungles, so you’ll know when you hear it. Besides, I’ve heard tapes, and this creature’s call is a much more bloodcurdling, terrifying sound; you can almost hear the gnashing of its sharp teeth as it longs to sink them into the soft, unyielding flesh…” Snikkit paused to wipe the foam from his mouth. “Anyway, the flyer that will take you to its last known position is through here.”
One of his guards gestured to the open door, so the team walked through. Before them was the most decrepit, worn out flyer that any of them had ever set their eyes on. As soon as he laid eyes on it, Rettick had no doubt about their likelihood of survival. Volt flew inside to inspect it, and the others followed.
“This thing’ll never get off the ground!” Volt sneered, “Not unless we’ve got a really good autopilot. Where is the autopilot, by the way?”
Snikkit smiled in that way he had. “You have pilot experience, don’t you?”
The colour drained from Volt’s face. “Well, I can use wings, but this is completely-”
“Well, then, I’m sure you’ll manage,” Snikkit smiled again, “Here are some charts that will guide you to Dr. Mildar’s last known position.” One of his guards drew a set of battered sheets of paper from its pants, and Snikkit turned to leave, his entourage not far behind.
Volt looked dubiously at the controls.
CHAPTER 14
“Well, that’s that, then.”
Jal looked up at the huge doors to the Drill Hall.
“There must be some way in!”
Crim groaned. “Do you seriously expect them to still be in there? We’ve been wandering the corridors for hours! By now, they’ll have been sent back to work or executed or something.”
Jal looked up again. The doors seemed impossibly large; they had probably been made that way to intimidate the slig workers. He sighed. Whether he liked it or not, it looked like Crim was right. “Well, there will probably be some answers in there, anyhow.”
Meet spoke up: “That still leaves the problem of how to get in.”
Jal thought about it. “We could send Sill round to see if there are any air vents or anything…”
Sillan buzzed angrily.
“You remember what happened last time,” pointed out Crim, “We don’t want a repeat of that! If he goes round, I’m going to.”
“What about us?” asked Meet, “What’s our reason to be here if you’re not here?”
“We’ll have to hide in a cupboard or something until they’re back,” suggested Jal, “Come and pick some locks, Sill!”
Once Sillan had picked the locks on a cupboard, Jal and Meet stepped inside, and Crim closed the door. After a while, the click of Crim’s heels faded away into the distance, and they could no longer hear Sillan’s constant hum.
“And now, we wait.” whispered Jal.
They waited, listening to the quiet sounds of the factory working. After a while, the clicking of the machinery resolved itself into footsteps.
Meet cocked his head. “Listen,” he whispered, “Hear that?”
Jal listened. “Crim?”
Meet shook his head. “No, and not another slig either; the pants make a metallic sound. Not barefoot, either, so probably not a mudokon. Glukkon?”
Jal hissed. “Shall we try and take him down? There’s only one of him, and he’s got no arms!”
Jal hissed this a little louder than he’d intended, and caught his breath as he heard the footsteps pause, then continue, more slowly, and getting gradually louder.
Meet whispered very quietly to Jal: “Idiot!”
They were both surprised when the glukkon knocked on the locker, presumably with his foot, and spoke.
“Jal? Is that you?”
Jal almost laughed out loud. “Groz! What are you wearing? Can you reach the handle?”
“I think so…”
Light exploded onto the faces of Jal and Meet. Had he been capable of it, Groz would have hugged them.
“You daft idiots were caught on camera killing that slig! I hoped I’d got there before anyone else saw it, but I was still worried. Thank Odd you’re alive!” He paused. “Where are Crim and Sillan?”
Jal pointed down the corridor. “They went to see if there was any other way into the Hall.”
“Don’t bother. There’s nothing in there. There was some kind of meeting there a while ago, but that’s over now.”
“But Greeb, Rettick, Tillyn, and Gorm were taken there earlier, by the patrol!”
Groz froze. “But… All the sligs in the Meeting have been kept in confinement ever since, and the camera tapes of the cells don’t show any of our guys! They must have been sent away! Or… worse…”
Jal looked thoughtful. Meet spoke up: “Well, let’s go, then!”
Jal looked up. “Where?”
“Well, we should get Crim and Sill, and get away somewhere, like back to the dorm.”
Groz shook his head. “No… Let’s go completely.”
Jal looked at him in disbelief. “You mean, leave the factory? How? We’ve tried before.”
Groz held up his security card between his toes. “Dad gave me this today; he thinks I’m old enough now to be trusted. It’ll open most of the doors in the factory. We can even operate a flyer with it if we can get to one.”
“That way, then,” Meet indicated the corridor Sill and Crim had gone down, “We can meet the others as we –”
“JUNIOR!”
Grozit Senior’s voice came round the corner, making the three of them jump.
Groz tossed his security card to Jal. “Go!” he hissed.
“But what about –”
“I can keep him busy while you escape! I’ll find my own way out, some other time! Just get out of here!”
Jal looked at the card in his hand, then back to Groz. Grozit Senior’s footsteps were coming closer, and were accompanied by those of a slig.
“Goodbye. And… Thank You.”
Jal turned on his heel and ran down the corridor, Meet close behind.
Groz turned to face his father. To his surprise, he recognised one of the sligs who accompanied him.
It was the one from the Security Office, and he held a security tape in his hand. In the other, a rifle barrel stared at Groz, along with those of the other three sligs.
“Oh, you’ve been a bad boy this time, Junior…”
CHAPTER 15
The flyer flew out over the forest, a great vista of huge trees below them. But in the cockpit all eyes were on the map and the vast array of controls before Volt.
“Do you still not know where we are yet?” Lork was getting impatient with Tillyn’s frantic searching on the map.
“Look, if you think you could…” Tillyn paused and looked him up and down. Bigbros weren’t well known for their intelligence and map reading ability. “It’s hard to read this map; there aren’t any landmarks around here to compare.”
Nad glanced out through the See-Thru™ Plastic windows. “What about that hill over there; that could be this hill here,” he indicated a hill on the map, just north of where they were supposed to be heading.
“I think that’s just an area of very tall trees, but it’s our best shot,” Tillyn turned to Volt, who was doing his best to pilot the craft. “Volt, just set us down on the other side of that hill, will you?”
“Bastards!”
All other conversations ceased, and all eyes were on Volt.
“What?” asked Greeb.
“Who?” asked Frag.
“Whoever got this flyer ready for the trip! We haven’t even got enough fuel to get us over that hill, let alone get us back to the factory again afterwards!”
There was a stunned silence. Tillyn spoke up. “How far can you get us?”
“Nowhere!” shouted Volt, “We’re out! We’re going down!”
“Shit!” Lork knocked Volt away from the controls, to try and sort it out himself.
“What are you doing?” screamed Volt, as he tried to regain his position at the controls. Lork held him away with one arm, taking care to stay out of the way of the whirring rotor blades. Hissing with frustration, Volt held up some sort of blade, and rammed it into Lork’s arm. Lork instantly collapsed to the floor, and Volt grabbed the joystick. Ignoring the shocked expressions of the others as they stared at Lork’s motionless body. “Brace yourselves; tie yourselves to the seats or something. I’m going to make the best landing I can, but it’ll be bumpy. Better tie him up as well,” he gestured to the body on the floor, “He’s not in a position to do it himself.”
In silence, the others did what they were told, doing their best not to look at the glazed eyes of Lork, as they tied him, then themselves, to the seats.
Rettick looked up. “What about you, Volt?”
“Someone needs to steer this thing in to land,” he replied, “Besides, I’d never be able to tie myself down with these wings on.”
“But couldn’t –”
“Hold tight!”
CHAPTER 16
“Now, what’s this all about?”
“Nothing, I just –”
“Don’t lie to me! You’ve been consorting with terrorists, haven’t you? We’ve got video footage, so don’t try and deny it!”
“They’re not really terrorists, they just want more equal rights for workers.”
“Not terrorists? Do you know how difficult it was for your father and I to wipe out the Slig Revolutionary Movement last time? We lost a lot of slaves and troops in the Prados Uprising, before we destroyed them. And now we find you working to help them to become powerful again? I can scarcely believe it!”
Snikkit paused for breath. He was enjoying this. Grozit Senior had put him in charge of the interrogation of Grozit Junior, as he’d been unable to bring himself to do it himself. Snikkit was giving it all he had. It didn’t really matter what the outcome was, as there were only four members of this so-called ‘Revolutionary Movement’ still at large. Snikkit had decided to just enjoy himself. With a bit of luck, he might be able to get this little bastard shot, too.
There was a knock at the door.
“What is it?!” Snikkit didn’t like being interrupted.
The slig outside swallowed. “The Boss says you gotta get to his office, sir; there’s some kinda problem.”
Snikkit was silent for a second. Then he turned back to Groz. “We’ll finish this some other time.” He turned to the slig. “Get him down to the cells.” And with that he strode out hurriedly, wondering what the problem could be. Surely not those four pathetic ‘Revolutionaries’! Grozit isn’t stupid enough to let them cause trouble, is he? Snikkit hadn’t been worried like this for some time. Even that idiot of a manager could deal with them, surely! It must be something worse, or he wouldn’t have sent for me. He was still reasoning with himself when he reached Grozit’s office, and saw his manager, several Junior Administrators, and some slig guards gathered around a Vidscreen. Pushing his way through the crowd he saw that it was, indeed, worse than just four revolutionaries.
The Vidscreen was divided into four segments, each of which showed part of the factory. And in each screen, there was a band of mudokon native terrorists marching through, kidnapping honest workers and killing their guards. As the terrorists moved off the screens, the views were switched to a different part of the factory. It was clear that this was no small gang. This was a full-scale attack.
“Oh shit.”
Grozit looked at him, then turned to the slig Sergeant-Major beside him. “Evacuate all remaining workers and guards to the secure quarter, then close the bulkheads. They’ll never get through those.”
Snikkit couldn’t believe his ears. “Surely you’re not going to run and hide! We should wipe them out!”
“If we did that, we’d lose more troops than if we just seal ourselves off. This is the third attack this month. We can’t afford this type of losses. When the main section is evacuated, we can flood it with gas. The terrorists won’t know what’s happening. We simply wait.”
Snikkit wanted to carry on arguing, but didn’t want to make an enemy of the slig Sergeant-Major. He gritted his teeth.
“Yes… Sir.”
CHAPTER 17
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
Jal wasn’t. “Sure I am! Groz told us, didn’t he?”
“If you say so.”
“Besides, this card of his opens all the doors, doesn’t it?”
“So? If we’re not going in the right direction, it won’t matter how many doors we can open, we could just be going in circles! Look,” Meet pointed at the door appearing round the corner ahead of them, “I’m sure I’ve seen that door before!”
“How can you tell?” Jal said as he reached up to insert Groz’s security card into the lock, “They all look the –”
The door burst open in a blast of energy, shards of metal flying everywhere. On the other side, about 60 mudokons stopped chanting and ran forward, past Jal and Meet. A couple stopped.
“Where are you going?” asked one.
Jal stuttered. “Out, I th-think.”
“You’re going the wrong way, then,” responded the other, “Come with us.” And with that they ran ahead to catch up with the others, Jal and Meet struggling to keep up.
“This way!” shouted the mudokon in the lead, and they all followed round the corner.
“Where –,” panted Jal, “Where are we going? Who are you?”
A nearby mudokon spoke up: “We’re from the local tribe, the Mudoris tribe. We’ve come to free slaves from the evil Glukkon supervisors.”
“So – So you’re done here now, are you?”
“We can’t find any more slaves or guards. That means they’ve evacuated the main factory. That usually means some kind of trap. So we’re leaving.”
“Head for –”
“There’s a guard!”
They turned to look down the corridor where the Mudokon had pointed.
“Yo guys, what’s happenin–” Crim began.
“He’s unarmed!” said a mudokon, before running up and pushing Crim over. Sillan swooped down and knocked the mudokon to the floor. The others began to move forward.
“Stop!” shouted Jal, “He’s on our side!”
Like the efficient military machine they were, the mudokons lifted Crim onto his ‘pants’ and helped the mudokon Sillan had knocked over to his feet. Then they forgot the incident had happened, and focused on escape again.
“Does anyone know where the Flyer Hangar is?” Meet spoke up.
The mudokons looked down at him. “Down that way,” said one, “But why should we go there?”
“Jal’s got this card thing that could start the autopilot in a flyer.” He pointed to the card in Jal’s hand.
As one, the mudokons began to run in the direction of the hangar. When they got there, there were no flyers, but a huge Crawler squatted at the far end.
“Shall we go in there?”
“Would the card work?”
“I don’t trust it.”
Crim sniffed. “Can anyone else smell gas?”
The arguments ceased and they ran for the crawler. Crim began to fall behind, so Sillan lifted him off the pants with his force fields, and flew at full speed for the hatch in the top. When they were all inside, and the hatch was sealed, Jal was pushed to the front.
He looked at the vast array of dark, silent controls before him, looking for a slot that would fit his card, and trying to see a button marked ‘go’. At last he founf the slot and inserted the card. The whole crawler came to life. Lights came on the air, recycler began to hum, and the control panel before Jal came to life.
“Good Morning! How can I help you?”
The voice seemed to come from all around them.
Jal cleared his throat and swallowed. “Err… Hello?”
“How can I help you?”
“We’d like to go to…” He turned to a mudokon beside him. “Where are we going?”
“The plains to the west.”
“The plains –”
The crawler lurched into movement, and headed for the opening hangar doors. Jal grinned at the mudokon beside him. They were on their way.
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Guns don't kill people, People kill people! Using Guns.
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. Anyway, very interesting yeah Mainard your right there are a lot of slig fic popping up...
