In which a review of parking charges is requested
T
he Bereavement Notable hovered in the night sky over the planet of Sapristi. The rebuilt drone, P17, was orbiting it, scanning for enemy activity. At the controls, the Magus contacted the planet surface.
The angry face of Ferguson Poordraw appeared on the microwave door. “What are you doing, blighting our night sky and waking up all the babies?”
The Magus cleared his throat. “I have released the engineers, and SCT Island is back under my control, so your drone manufacturing facility is no longer operational. We are here to reclaim our parking charges. Your domination of all vehicle storage spaces is against the Statute, and Human Rights across the galaxy, in particularly the Fourteenth Adjustment, which states that all people are equal, even drunk young white girls in short skirts, and therefore you have no right to let the rich ones off their parking charges, and it also says that you cannot deprive people of life (Two-Dan), Liberty (the engineers at SCT) and property, vis-à-vis the spaces you are appropriating to build car parks upon.”
“Tough,” said Poordraw. “I control the government. I’ll get the adjustment adjusted. So what’s that you are driving, up there? I thought we destroyed your pirate ship.”
“It’s a Bereavement Notable,” said the Magus, reddening slightly. “We have come to back up our claims, with force and devastation.”
“And that’s supposed to send terror into our souls, is it?”
“We did have a more extreme name, but we weren’t allowed to use it... deemed too confrontational by our moderates.”
“Whatever you want to call it, you had better surrender now. I’ll launch our drone squadrons if you don’t.”
“You should surrender instead. We have enough firepower here to destroy your entire planet.”
“And what would be the benefit of that?”
“We stop your evil plans.”
“But my evil plans are already on most of the civilised worlds... and even a few that aren’t, and haven’t discovered the internal combustion engine. We are putting that right for them, but it’s a bugger trying to teach them to drive when they keep eating the tyres.”
“Then I will show you that I mean business. Pete, release the main weapons.”
“Oh dear.” A voice came ruefully through the communicator. “I’m having to say that I’m with Mr Poordraw on this one. I’m not going to attack my employer and destroy a planet.”
“Pete, how could you? After all we’ve been through. I mean, you helped us develop the new drive and weapons and all.”
“Don’t be too hard on him,” said Poordraw. “He was incorruptible to start with, and then we found his girlfriend.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It was difficult, I admit, but we checked his emails and a few jewellery shops and finally tracked her down to one of the Nishant assembly facilities.”
“No, I meant it’s hard to believe he has a girlfriend... him being a techie and all that.”
“I found her on the Galactinet,” said Pete. “We are ideally suited. She likes Hyper-wars and pizza as much as me, and will do anything to get away from Musoketeba and have cute little mixed-race babies... and I’ve vowed to help her. We haven’t actually met yet, but Mx. Poordraw has promised to release her to me when the Recalcitrance is over.”
“Pete, please reconsider. You can’t believe anything STOP says,” said the Magus. “Pete?”
“Pete is indisposed.”
“Kara.” Relief sounded in the Magus’ voice. “Would you be so kind as to release the power of our doomsday weapon and destroy the STOP half of the planet?”
“Nah.”
“Nah?”
“I would not fire upon the people who have promised me the Emperorship of the Galaxy again. STOP have guaranteed to reinstate me as the one glorious figurehead, and grant me the position I am finally due. I have it in writing.”
“Don’t you think you’d better give up?” said Poordraw. “You have nothing to menace us with.”
There was a squeak from the battle-closet, and then a man’s voice: “Correction! This is Vac here. I am now in control of the weapons.”
“Vac, you’ve saved us all,” said the Magus. “Fire the battery. Target the main airport car park warden station and barriers.”
“Naw.”
“Naw?”
“Mx. Poordraw has promised me that he will remove the car park he has recently had built on Skagos, especially as we don’t have any cars. He has also pointed out that cutting the amount of vehicles on the roads, and making bigger potholes thereon has actually improved the health of the commoners. As a health advocate, I acknowledge fitness, and anything that improves the look of the common woman expands the gene pool of potential mates for me.”
“But we are mates.”
“On reflection,” said Vac. “I don’t see how you can win, here, and the Skagans are not yet ready for another Armageddon. Glory, Sex and more Sex, now we’re not going to die!”
“Is that your new battle cry?”
“It’s as good as any. I’m off to find Tanda in the engine room, and give her a good seeing to, before we give ourselves up. Oh, by the way, after we have handed you over, I’ll be paying a visit to the Tax Office. I need to talk to them about my royalties, now that Mx. Poordraw has given me the correct form to fill in.”
“Is there anyone who will help me?” said the Magus plaintively.
“I’m here. at the weapon console now. What do I do?”
“Rannie. I should have known I could rely on you.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. This Mx. Poordraw here has been sourcing a load of my products.”
“Yes, Mx. Dearheat,” said Ferguson Poordraw, “Mx. Poordraw, my better half, loves the ‘Connected Bikini’.”
“I haven’t heard of that one.” The Magus leaned back hopelessly in the co-pilot’s seat.
Glowplug, patted him gently on the head. “Tough cheese, Magus,” he said, “but without Two-Dan to lead, we all feel that this is a waste of time. STOP have promised to leave us alone until we have enough people, and then we are to be given smart uniforms and take over from the parking attendants as physical enforcers. We will be allowed by law to put tickets on any cars we find and then extract the parking fines forcefully on the spot. It sounds such fun.”
“Before your pilot interrupted, I was telling you about this great bikini,” said Ferguson Poordraw, “connected to the ‘Internet of Unnecessary Things’, it monitors the sun and has an add-on sunscreen dispenser, which sprays automatically when required. The bit I love is that it tells the wearer if they are getting too fat, eating rich food and lounging around on beaches, which saves me all the bother of pointing it out to the good lady, and subsequent denial of conjugal rights.”
“My own design, that one,” said Rannie proudly. “Mx. Poordraw is granting me exclusive rights to supply any of my products, including my new range of digital eyes, which save people the effort of actually looking at anyone.”
“Looks wonderful,” said Poordraw. “Put me down for thirteen.”
“Rannie, but you said you loved me,” whined the Magus.
“And so I still do,” said Rannie, “but business is business, and because the STOP executives have so much money to waste, they will buy anything, in an attempt to make themselves happy. I supply happiness in the form of gadgets everyone can live without.”
“And they are all nice and shiny,” said Poordraw. “I’ve been impressing my associates. Mx. Welby wishes she could afford some, but her bonuses have been in proportion to her shareholding, so she can’t get that much, and may have to go without that ‘Greeshun 2000’ super-car she set her heart on.”
“Then I’m stuffed,” said the Magus. “All my crew is against me, I can’t run, I can’t fire... and now I’m wanted for piracy...”
“I’ll come and visit you in prison,” said Rannie, appearing in the cockpit hatch. “With all the money I make from the new deal, I’ll be able to pay for a good trial, and with a bit of luck get you off on the lesser charge of ‘waywardness’.”
“Which carries a shorter sentence of ten years holiday in the stone-head carving quarries,” said Poordraw. “Better than piracy anyway, where you are well hung after the application of weights, drawn by one of our outstanding cartoonists, and eighted, which is like being quartered, only more painful, before being reassembled upside down and suspended above a barrel of carnivorous guppies until you are dead.”
“I’ll look after you,” said Rannie, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “How would you like him delivered, Mx. Poordraw? The Recalcitrance is over...”
“You’re wrong.”
Rannie gave a gasp of shock, and twisted in her chair to view the new entrant to the control room. “What the Phoist...?”
“I beg to disagree,” it said. “I think the Recalcitrance is alive and fully operational.”