Cargo Cult (48 page)

What Wayne didn't see was the ship
open fire on the Adgees, blowing several armoured vehicles to
pieces and sending the rest into a frenzied attempt to get out of
the line of fire. One brave crew, avoiding the energy bolts that
rained down all around them, drove their Bushmaster around the rim
of the giant spaceship and up the ramp into the interior. For a
moment, it was out of sight inside, then, with it's wheels
squealing and engine roaring, it reappeared, flying back down the
ramp at top speed. Behind it, scores of little maintenance bots
scurried after it, waving knives and firing at it with tiny
lasers.

-oOo-

“You want to what?”

“Bomb them from orbit.” Chuwar
didn't seem able to see the folly in this and, for a second, Werpot
didn't feel up to the job of explaining it.

“You'll forgive my impertinence, O
Great One, but that's about the most stupid idea I've heard since
you said, 'Let's follow the Vinggans and steal the Mechazoid
Hoard.' The weapons we have on this ship might just penetrate their
personal shields, but all they would do to that ship is, well,
absolutely nothing. No wait, maybe you'd succeed in pissing them
off.”

Chuwar looked back from beneath
deep, sullen brows. “I want bigger weapons,” he said. “Why don't I
have bigger weapons?”

“Perhaps we should return to To'egh
and work on the problem, Your Magnificence. You could beat the
scientist-slaves in the weapons factories until they promise you
something truly enormous. That always makes you feel better.”

Chuwar considered it for a moment,
but dismissed it. “I want the Mechazoid weapons. I bet they'd blow
up the stupid Vinggans.”

Werpot sighed. “I'm your vizier,
right? That means I give you advice, right? I do all the hard
thinking, so that you don't have to make your head hurt doing it
for yourself, right?”

Chuwar regarded the N'oid
suspiciously, but said, “Right.”

“Right. So, here's my advice. If
you want a slice of the Mechazoid action, the best thing you can do
– in fact, the only thing you can do – is buddy up to the Vinggans
and hope that they cut you in.”

Chuwar stroked his massive
prognathous jaw and said, “Hmmmm.” It was what he always did when
he was trying to look intelligent. “Do you think that would
work?”

“Not for a minute. The Vinggans are
well known for being petty, self-obsessed, racist little shits.
However, by pretending to be their friend, you might at least avoid
them wiping out your entire domain just because they can.” He
hurried on before Chuwar could catch up. “So I suggest we land
beside them and tell them we've come to help. We could shoot up a
few of the local life-forms, just to show how keen we are.”

“Shoot?”

“Yes. Preliminary scans show the
level of technology here is pretty crude. You can shoot as many of
them as you like. They can't do anything about it.”

“Hmmm,” he said, giving that
massive jaw another massage. “Maybe when the Vinggans have gone
home, we could annex this world. I'd like some more slaves.”

Werpot tried not to roll his eyes.
“Yes. What a brilliant idea. It's a little bit out of the way, but
why not add yet another primitive backwater to all the others you
already have?”

“Good. Take us down. Call the
Vinggans and tell them we're here. Then call the local sapients and
scare the shit out of them. Shoot a few things while you're at
it.”

“Yes, Mighty Chuwar, as you
command.”

-oOo-

The Vinggan ship monitored the
unfolding events with detached amusement. It had been aware that
Chuwar was following them ever since his ship had taken off from
To'egh. So it was not at all surprised to hear from the little
N'oid that they had arrived and were ready to provide assistance
with the job of pacifying the local sentients. Without so much as
falling down laughing, the ship sent a message back welcoming any
true friends of the Vinggan people.

What the ship did find surprising
was that, as Chuwar's little yacht settled on the runway nearby,
the humans talking to Braxx drew their weapons and tried to take
the Vinggan prisoner. If it hadn't been for the distraction of a
second spaceship landing just outside the window, the humans would
certainly all have been dead by now.

“What the hell is going on out
there?” the ship heard Treasure ask. It was, of course, monitoring
everything.

“It's another ship, sir. Landing
next to the big one.”

“What the...? I thought you ladies
had come here alone. Hey!”

The ship watched Braxx shove and
elbow his way to the windows.

“It's that Chuwar creature,” it
heard him say.

“What Chuwar creature?” Treasure
asked.

A request from Werpot to speak to
Braxx came through so the ship routed the call directly to the
computers in the Command Post. The little creature's image appeared
on every screen in the room.

“This is Werpot, Grand Vizier to
His Magnificence the Warlord Chuwar, requesting to speak to Braxx,
Corpuscular Manifestation third
class of the Great Spirit.”

“And spokesperson for the Acting
Governor of Earth too, now,” Braxx corrected him.

“Forgive me, Spokesperson.”

“Just a minute,” Treasure said.
“Sergeant, get these prisoners under control.” He squared up to the
alien on the computer screens. “Now who are you and what do you
want here?”

“I wish to speak to your Governor's
Spokesperson.”

“Buggered if you do! My name's
Treasure and if you do any speaking to anyone, you do it through
me. Do you understand?”

“No, not really. Do you mean you
are the treasure, or that you speak to the treasure. Are you some
kind of verbal interface to the Hoard?”

“Don't start all that damned
treasure nonsense. I know what you're all here looking for. And if
by 'horde' you mean the armed forces of this nation, then yes, I
speak for them.”

There was an ear-splitting crack
from above as half a dozen FA/1-18 Super Hornets overflew the air
base in close formation. Braby smiled and said to Treasure, “That
would be part of your horde arriving now, sir.” He turned to Aspen
and gave him orders to keep the squadron handy and ready for a
missile run.

“That is very interesting,” said
Werpot, politely. “May I speak to Braxx now, please?”

The general leaned towards the
screens, studying Werpot more closely. “You're not like the other
lot, are you? Tell me where you come from.”

“N'o,” said Werpot. “I'm a
N'oid.”

Braxx moved close to the general.
“He's got a thing about being asked where he comes from,” the
Vinggan said. “And he's always annoyed for some reason. Perhaps its
the psoriasis. Makes me want to scratch myself just looking at
him.”

“Ah, Braxx,” said Werpot, his
politeness beginning to sound strained. “We were about to shoot a
few of the locals, just to –”

“Is that Braxx?” asked a voice like
gravel in an oil drum. “About time.” Werpot was pushed out of shot
and the ugliest, most massive monster appeared on the screen. “I am
Chuwar,” it said. If a Tyrannosaurus Rex could speak, it would have
sounded like Chuwar's little sister. The general and every other
human in the room drew back, not wanting to be too close to this
fearsome apparition.

“Ah, Chuwar,” said Braxx, stepping
forward. “By all means shoot a few things.” He looked sideways at
the general. “I must say, I don't think we are making ourselves
fully understood here.”

A twisted expression crossed
Chuwar's face. Something that could have been a happy smile. Then
buildings started exploding all around them. In fact, the
explosions grew closer by the second. Braxx began to say, “Be
careful where you shoot! We're out here in one of their buildings,
you great ugly oaf.” But he was cut off mid-sentence when the room
blew apart and scattered them all like leaves.

-oOo-

“I told you there was a goddam ship
here!”

Of course, the series of explosions
and the buildings collapsing everywhere were not conclusive
evidence. From where the kangaroos stood in their holding pen, they
could see nothing of the runways. However, to Shorty, the
destruction being wreaked on the air force base could mean only one
thing. The Vinggans were back.

“We need to get out of here,” she
said.

“What for?” Fats asked. “I don't
think the Vinggans are mad at us.”

Shorty jumped up in frustration and
boxed the buck's ears with her little front paws. “You big dumb
rodent. Don't you think I don't know that? Do you think I didn't
notice it was the Vinggan ship that set us up with these guns and
the personal shields? You think I've been asleep these past few
weeks?”

“Gee, boss, I didn't mean
anything.”

“Well shut your toothy little mouth
then! We've got to get out of here because we need to get aboard
that Vinggan ship before it takes off again. Geddit? Or do you want
to spend another two hundred years on this bug-infested
mudball?”

“But what about your plan, boss?”
asked Fats. “We was gonna wait here for something-or-other. I
forget now.”

Shorty almost batted his ears
again, but held onto her temper with more-than-marsupial willpower.
“Plans change,” was all she said. “Now, follow my lead.”

She hopped over to the gate. There
were two human guards there and their boss, the one who called
himself Totterdell was standing some way off. All the humans were
straining to see whatever they could of the battle that seemed to
be raging on the flight line.

“I want to talk to your boss,”
Shorty called to the nearest guard.

He dragged himself away from the
spectacle of his air base being shot to pieces and peered at the
roo. From his expression, it was possible that no one had told him
the creature could speak.

“Do that again,” he said.

“Do what?” Shorty asked.

“Bugger my rags,” the airman said,
then, “Hey, Jack. Come here, the bloody roo's started talking.”

“That's a bit of a worry, mate?”
said Jack, not taking his eyes off the clouds of flame and
smoke.

“No, I'm serious, mate. Come and
listen.”

“Mate, do you think we should go
and help?” said Jack.

“Stop talking to that moron,” said
Shorty, “and fetch Totterdell here.”

“Holy crap!” said the airman. “Hey,
Jack, this is fucking amazing.”

Shorty closed her eyes as if in
silent prayer. Then she hopped away from the fence and spoke to her
comrades. “OK, guys. Shoot the fence down. And if this half-wit
gets accidentally blown to pieces, no one will be happier than
me.”

The roos fired at the gate and the
two guards with a searing blast of crackling energies. Within
moments, all that was left of the area was some hot metal and two
pairs of smoking boots.

Totterdell, alerted by the sound,
goggled at the blackened concrete where fence and guards had once
stood. With leisurely bounds, the mob of roos advanced on him.

“Do we have your attention now?”
Shorty asked, stopping in front of the horrified major. He seemed
to be trying to say something but was unable to find quite the
right words.

“We've got to go now,” Shorty
said.

“Go?” he managed.

“Yes, go. I had meant to stay and
cooperate with you guys, but, well, the Vinggans are here now and
you'll probably all be dead soon anyway. I just wanted to say
there's nothing personal between us. I know you caught us and
brought us here, but it's all bygones now, OK? I mean, I ain't
going to bump off all your relatives, or drop you out a spaceship
in orbit or whatever, like you might expect.” Totterdell was still
working his mouth but saying nothing. “Just don't think this kind
of generosity could happen twice, OK?” Still no reply. “OK. See you
around.”

The roos set off towards where the
destruction was greatest, leaving Totterdell gaping at their
backs.

“It looks like the army's still
here,” said Barraclough. He was lying on his stomach trying to see
under the ship at what was going on in the field beyond.

“That's a good thing, right?” said
Sam.

“Not for the army,” said
Barraclough. There were only a few vehicles moving and he could
still hear sporadic machine gun fire, but each vehicle that moved
had a crowd of excited maintenance bots chasing in its wake. “We
need to keep moving.”

Sam looked around at the smoking
rubble of the base. “Easier said than done.”

They had taken shelter in the
wreckage of a building not long after the shooting started. Yet,
even though there were very few buildings left standing, the
shooting continued. They were all surprised to discover that the
ship doggedly demolishing the base was not the one they had just
fled.

“I think I remember that ship from
the spaceport on To'egh,” John said. “Do you suppose that big ugly
warlord thing came along too?”

“He wasn't invited,” said Drukk.
While the humans crouched and hid, Drukk stood calmly surveying the
scene. Occasionally a piece of debris would whistle through the air
and smash against his personal shield, but he ignored it as a human
might ignore a light shower. “I wonder why he's blowing everything
up.”

“Maybe it's that flaky black thing
he had with him,” said Sam. “He said he was annoyed.”

“Oh, hello,” said John and pointed
to the sky. They all looked just in time to see half-a-dozen black
silhouettes rapidly grow into half-a-dozen screaming jet fighters
strafing Chuwar's ship as they racketed past. Although the ship
didn't have shields like the Vinggan's did, the bullets seemed to
bounce off it harmlessly enough. For a moment, the firing from the
ship stopped, no doubt as its occupants looked at one another and
said, “What the...?” Then it started again, only this time it was
aimed at the retreating aircraft, which instantly broke formation
and scattered.