The Japanese Devil Fish Girl
Read The Japanese Devil Fish Girl Online
Authors: Robert Rankin
Table of Contents
Also by Robert Rankin:
The Brentford Trilogy:
The Antipope
The Brentford Triangle
East of Ealing
The Sprouts of Wrath
The Brentford Chainsaw Massacre
Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls
Knees Up Mother Earth
The Antipope
The Brentford Triangle
East of Ealing
The Sprouts of Wrath
The Brentford Chainsaw Massacre
Sex and Drugs and Sausage Rolls
Knees Up Mother Earth
The Armageddon Trilogy:
Armageddon: The Musical
They Came and Ate Us
The Suburban Book of the Dead
Armageddon: The Musical
They Came and Ate Us
The Suburban Book of the Dead
Cornelius Murphy Trilogy:
The Book of Ultimate Truths
Raiders of the Lost Car Park
The Most Amazing Man Who Ever Lived
The Book of Ultimate Truths
Raiders of the Lost Car Park
The Most Amazing Man Who Ever Lived
There is a secret trilogy in the middle there, comprised of:
The Trilogy That Dare Not Speak Its Name Trilogy:
Sprout Mask Replica
The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag
Waiting for Godalming
The Trilogy That Dare Not Speak Its Name Trilogy:
Sprout Mask Replica
The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag
Waiting for Godalming
Plus some fabulous other books, including:
The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse
The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse
And its sequel:
The Toyminator
The Toyminator
And then:
The Witches of Chiswick
The Brightonomicon
The Da-Da-De-Da-Da Code
Necrophenia
Retromancer
The Japanese Devil Fish Girl and Other Unnatural Attractions
The Witches of Chiswick
The Brightonomicon
The Da-Da-De-Da-Da Code
Necrophenia
Retromancer
The Japanese Devil Fish Girl and Other Unnatural Attractions
The Japanese Devil Fish Girl & Other Unnatural Attractions
ROBERT RANKIN
Orion
A Gollancz eBook
Copyright © Robert Rankin 2010
All rights reserved.
The right of Robert Rankin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in Great Britain in 2010 by
Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper Saint Martin’s Lane
London, WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK Company
This eBook first published in 2010 by Gollancz.
A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library.
eISBN : 978 0 5750 8680 7
This eBook produced by Jouve, France
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO
CONNOR
WITH LOTS OF LOVE FROM HIS GRANDAD.
CONNOR
WITH LOTS OF LOVE FROM HIS GRANDAD.
Cut into the present and the future leaks out.
William Burroughs
1895
1
T
he Grand Salon of the
Empress of Mars
was furnished to exquisite nicety.
he Grand Salon of the
Empress of Mars
was furnished to exquisite nicety.
The overstuffed couches, thoughtfully arranged before the tall Gothic viewing windows, were royally upholstered in the palest of Japanese silks. Tables for every occasion rose upon fluted cabriole legs to bear silver trays of sweetmeats, petits fours and fruits of exotic origin. On walls made beautiful by the fabrics of Sir William Morris, ornate crystal mirrors glittered in the light of electric candelabra. Octagonal carpets of the Jovian persuasion smothered the maple floor and orchids from the forests of Venus, rising from elegant French porcelain cache-pots, perfumed the rarefied air.
The Grand Salon was abuzz with conversation.
The very cream of London society, aristocrats of noble blood, rubbed suave and braided shoulders with potentates from other worlds. Champagne twinkled, amorous glances were exchanged. Military gentlemen, high-ranking officers of the Queen’s Own Electric Fusiliers, their uniforms of blue displaying many campaign medals, shared jokes with portly princelings from the royal houses of Jupiter.
The men were debonair and dandified, the women pale and enchanting, their tiny waists encircled by corselets of filigreed brass, offset by flaring skirts and bustles prettied with embellishments of peacock feathers, ostrich plumes, waxen roses, jewels and further jewels. Upon their heads, nestling midst the coiffured, pampered curls, they wore the very latest thing: tiny silk top hats adorned with inlaid evening goggles.
Beyond the Grand Salon, upon the promenade deck, ladies and gentlemen strolled and took in the views. For on the warm and tender evening of this maiden flight, the views were well worth taking in.
Above, a clear night sky all draped with stars, and planets that might be viewed through one of the many astronomical telescopes arranged at regular intervals along the handrail.
Beneath, the City of London.
The
Empress of Mars
drifted silently over the great metropolis, a sleek silver air-form, one-third of a mile in length. The first of its kind, an aerial pleasure ship.
Empress of Mars
drifted silently over the great metropolis, a sleek silver air-form, one-third of a mile in length. The first of its kind, an aerial pleasure ship.
Sadly, upon this night of nights the capital was wreathed in fog. Another industrial pea-souper. The dome of St Paul’s peeked above the murk, as did the tessellated tower of the Babbage Institute for the Advancement of Science. And towards the south, a golden glow as of some rich and royal treasure could be discerned atop the hill at Sydenham. From the destination of this wondrous aircraft. The Crystal Palace.
For tonight a concert of celebration was to be held for the exalted company aboard the
Empress of Mars
. Titurel de Schentefleur would conduct Mazael’s Mechanical Orchestra in the performance of a cosmic operetta, created by Messrs William Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan:
Empress of Mars
. Titurel de Schentefleur would conduct Mazael’s Mechanical Orchestra in the performance of a cosmic operetta, created by Messrs William Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan:
Of Mars and Mankind(A stirring and exemplary tale as characterised by this Age of Moral Rectitude)
This stirring and exemplary tale had been expressly commissioned by the Prime Minister, Mr Gladstone. This stirring and exemplary pillar of society had taken it unto himself to oversee and vet the libretto, in order to ensure that the story of how British Forces defeated the Martians and extended the British Empire to the Red Planet be told in a manner that was altogether favourable to all involved. A manner that laid great emphasis upon the selfless, loyal bravery of the victorious Queen’s Own Electric Fusiliers and the callous cruelty and innate cowardice of the denizens of Mars.
That such a victory might in any way have a ‘tainted’ quality about it would appear outrageous to the all and sundry who had consumed the ongoing details of this singular interplanetary campaign via the pages of
The Times
newspaper. But nevertheless . . .
The Times
newspaper. But nevertheless . . .
There were those who knew all of the truth. And others who wished to keep all of the truth from those who did not know it.
War of any kind is never less than ugly and an inter-species war, as of Mars against Earth and the subsequent genocidal retaliation, entered realms of ugliness previously only inhabited by certain debauched human exhibits in the Celebrated Professor Coffin’s Cabinet of Human Curiosities.
In brief, the true tale is as follows.
It has been well recorded by the pen of Mr Herbert Wells and set down in his episodic chronicle,
The War of the Worlds
, all that came to pass when soldiers of Mars descended to British soil in their machines of war and wrought a terrible carnage.
The War of the Worlds
, all that came to pass when soldiers of Mars descended to British soil in their machines of war and wrought a terrible carnage.
This appalling circumstance, which resulted in the loss of many lives and the destruction of much property, was luckily, if such a word can indeed be suitably applied, confined to the southern counties of England alone. As will be known and understood by those who have read the work of Mr Wells, the Martians were defeated not by selfless, loyal bravery, but by falling prey to Earthly bacteria against which their unearthly bodies held no natural resistance. The invaders drooped and died. Their three-legged chariots of death rocked and tumbled.
Earth and the British Empire survived. Triumphed.
Celebrations followed and folk danced gaily in garlanded streets and cheered for Queen and for country.
In Westminster, however, behind closed doors, ministers took stock . . .
A secret conclave met in a secret room . . . The year was 1885.
At the table’s head sat Mr Gladstone, flanked by two fellows of funereal aspect. These two fellows’ names remain unrecorded and a matter of ongoing speculation. To the right of Gladstone and seated next to one of the anonymous fellows was to be found that eminent scientist and mathematician Charles Babbage, a jolly red-faced man, well swaddled in a great abundance of tweed. And directly opposite him, a gaunt but dapper personage of foreign extraction who answered to the name of Nikola Tesla. A surname the future would know as ‘the derived SI unit of magnetic flux density equal to a flux of one weber in an area of one square metre’. Beside him was an empty chair. And opposite this chair, next to Mr Babbage, sat Silas Faircloud, newly appointed Astronomer Royal, tubercular and frail.
The secret conclave was called to order, and Mr Gladstone spoke.
‘Gentlemen,’ he began, ‘we meet here under what we must all consider to be the gravest of circumstances: the concern that further enemy forces might even now be amassing upon Mars, readying themselves for attack. Mr Faircloud, what think you of this?’
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