Overdrive (21 page)

“But how have you
kept this quiet?," stammered Tarquin. “Why haven’t we heard about this
before?”

“Novelle New
Zealand is on the outskirts of the colonized galaxy. Scientific documents were
published but either the information was found to be too disturbing, or not
interesting enough to concern the rest of the galaxy. Either way, the fact that
exceptional sheep were being born on Novelle New Zealand didn’t stir things up
too much. Perhaps the rest of the galaxy likes lamb shanks too much. But I
digress, this Ram, Ram Benjamin, our first saviour, proposed that in order to
shake off the yoke of the Areopagites - who discovered our planet and gave us
colonization rights, and to whom we paid taxes – we must do something drastic.
Ram Benjamin set up the Church of the Holy Lamb, declaring the whole planet to
be his flock, so to speak.” He chuckled to himself at his little joke. Noticing
no one else was laughing, he continued. “By doing so we exempted ourselves from
any taxes or ownership rights that the Areopagites had over us.”

“Clever,"
said Logan.

“For a sheep,"
muttered Tarquin under his breath.

“Now our new
Saviour, Ram Terry IV, a young ram, had a disturbing vision some five years
ago. He saw a galaxy completely dominated by the Areopagites, a galaxy where
aberrations such as genetically enhanced sheep – or humans for that matter,” he
said with a significant glance in the direction of the Transplanters, “would be
wiped out.”

It was common
knowledge that the Areopagites were less than tolerant of genetic enhancements
of animals to produce intelligence. Significantly, despite their own widespread
use of genetic engineering, the Areopagites were hardly understanding of others
using the same methods.

Mattock continued.
“Ram Terry IV saw that our only chance would be to break their monopoly on
navigation and colonization. Hence our research into the Overdrive. Fortunately
for us, the research was a success – thanks largely to your friend Felix.”

“And what do you
plan to do with this technology now that you have it?," asked Logan.

“Why, use it to
break the Areopagites monopoly of course. We do not seek galactic domination –
unlike our winged adversaries – just to be left in peace.”

“Very charitable
of you,” commented a wry Tarquin.

“Hardly. Its a
matter of self preservation. If we hadn’t developed the Overdrive, the Areopagites
would sooner or later come calling again.”

“What’s stopping
them from calling now?” enquired Logan.

Mattock shrugged.
“Nothing really. But in a few hours it will be too late. The Overdrive data
will be in safe hands and the Areopagites, or the Watchers for that matter will
have nothing to gain by destroying us.”

“Umm. I don’t
know. How about revenge? If someone had just taken away my galactic
stranglehold on space travel, I’d be pretty pissed,” said Logan.

For the first
time, the Grand Shepherd seemed at a bit of a loss. “I’m sure they wouldn’t do
such a thing out of revenge. Surely not?," he finished hopefully.

“Believe it,"
said Tarquin. “These religious types tend to hold a grudge.”

Mattock looked
thoughtful. “Perhaps we should ramp up our planetary defenses. We will have
time given we are a few hundred light years from the nearest Areopagite held
planet.” He stood. “Well gentlemen, its been a pleasure. I have much to do. I
look forward to seeing you tomorrow at the audience with the Holy One.”

“Wouldn’t miss it
for the world," said Logan.

The Grand Shepherd
smiled again. “Excellent. Quarters have been prepared for you but I suggest you
make the most of what Fever and Studio 54 has to offer before you retire for
the evening. My assistants here," he said gesturing towards the two robed
woman standing behind him, “will be more than happy to show you around.” Logan
couldn’t be sure, but he swore one of the Shepherds had winked at him.

The Grand Shepherd
walked off. A group of 4 robed figures, previously unseen in a nearby café,
rose and fell in around their master.

“Guy comes
prepared," commented Logan.

“Wouldn’t you,
considering he has the most powerful group of psychopaths in the galaxy after
his hide.”

Logan shrugged. “I
suppose so.”

Tarquin rolled his
eyes. “Gosh you’re cool.”

“Thanks. I know.”

The two men rose.
The Shepherds, seeing that the men were leaving, walked over and introduced
themselves.

The first one held
out her hand. “Hi, I’m Shannon. This is Heather," she said, indicating her
colleague.

“Very pleased to
meet you," said Logan. Tarquin nudged him in the ribs to stop him leering.
Both woman were rather attractive with olive skin and long think black hair.
Logan suspected they were probably sisters.

Tarquin looked
down at the others still sitting at the table. During the audience with the
Grand Shepherd, Walter, Bruce and Derek had been getting quietly shitfaced.

“What about you
guys. Coming?”

“Nah," said
Bruce. “Me and Derek are gonna find our own entertainment. We’ll see you
tomorrow.”

Tarquin nodded and
turned to Walter. “What about you?”

Walter looked
thoughtful and then downed his gin and tonic in one go. “If its all the same to
our Transplanter friends here, I rather thought it would be fun to accompany
them.”

Derek
gave him a slap on the back almost
throwing Walter off his chair. “Of course. We’ll see how much trouble we can
get you in eh?”

Walter beamed
idiotically.

“Well its settled
then. We’ll meet you at the audience with Holy Lambshanks tomorrow,” said
Tarquin.

The two groups
parted company, the Shepherds leading Logan and Tarquin towards one of the 24
hour disco parties.

Tarquin looked
slightly worried. “Think he’ll be alright?”

“Who?," a
somewhat preoccupied Logan asked.

“Santa Claus.
Walter, you idiot.”

“Oh yeah. I’m sure
he’ll be just fine.”

Loosing interest
in the conversation, Logan turned towards the two Shepherds. “Don’t you think
you two will be out of place in a disco?”

Shannon cocked a
saucy eyebrow at him. “You should see what we’ve got on underneath.”

She showed him.

Logan was
confident it was going to be a good night.

◊

Knights Captain
Tynan looked ridiculous and he knew it. When he wasn’t tripping over his white
platform boots, he was pulling chest hairs out of his gold medallion. It wasn’t
even mildly comforting to see everyone else in the bar looking equally
ridiculous. Looking towards the door, he noticed the entrance of a diminutive
disco clad figure entering the bar. The 4’ tall, green skinned Martian,
spotting the Areopagite, made his way towards Tynan’s booth.

“I take it you got
my message then”?

The Martian
nodded.

“Can I interest
you in a drink?”

“Just a quick
beer. We still have preparations to make.”

A waitress came
over and took their order. Tynan used the opportunity to scrutinize his new
ally. The green, oval shaped head was dominated by large, disproportionate
eyes. They would have appeared larger but for the afro that was covering the
usually bald Martian pate. He appeared somewhat agitated, eyes nervously moving
around the bar.

“Everything
alright?," Tynan asked.

The Martian nodded
quickly. “I’ve received the go ahead from our Emperor, but it doesn’t make me
feel any better about this whole thing.” His beer arrived and he took a sip,
his long, extra jointed hands completely wrapping around the glass.

Tynan smiled.
“Look Captain. You’re getting a good deal out of this whole thing. All I’m
asking from you is a small act of sabotage, perhaps a bit of back up, and in
return you receive the Overdrive data. What more could you want?”

The Martian
fidgeted with his glass. “You promise they won’t get hurt?”

“You have my
word.”

The small green
man’s lip twisted in derision. “The word of an Areopagite? What’s that worth?
Fuck all in my book.”

“In addition to
carrying a hand cannon, I also carry the authority of Metatron.”

“Are you
threatening me?”

“No, of course not,"
Tynan said reassuringly. “I’m just stating the facts. Any deal I make with you
now will be fully ratified by Metatron and the ruling council of the
Areopagites. I’m sure you’ll go back to New Mars a hero of the people. Probably
an exceedingly rich hero.”

The Martian looked
despondent. “But they saved our lives.”

“Yes. Which puts
you in an excellent position to gain access to their ship.”  Tynan watched the
Martian nod slowly and knew he had him. “And I’ll need you and your men armed
and ready to go tomorrow morning. Just for show of course but the Shepherds
won’t give the data over without a bit of persuasion.” He raised his glass.
“Tomorrow then.”

Captain Zoltan,
formerly of the ship
Frying Saucer
, finished his beer in one gulp.

◊

Archangel
Gabriella was on all fours getting taken from behind by one of her Templars
when an urgent message came through her AI. The Templar, energetically banging
away for all he was worth, had her wings firmly gripped in his hands in an
effort to gain more leverage. Her large breasts swung gaily at each thrust.

Answering, she
pushed him off, sending him sprawling on the floor. For the life of her, she
couldn’t remember his name.

“Yes?," she
said impatiently.

“Sorry to disturb
you Princess, but we’re about to dock with Fever.” Sammael’s face appeared
under her eyelid. “I wasn’t interrupting anything important was I?”

“Nothing of any
value,” she said, looking down at the naked Templar lying on her bedroom floor.
“I’ll meet you on the bridge.”

“Yes Princess.”

She cut the
channel and used her personal field to gather her clothes from the floor.
Without looking up, she addressed the Templar.

“Get your clothes
on and get the fuck out of my room. I’m sure you have duties to attend to.”

“Yes Princess,"
he stammered, gathering up his clothes and all but running out.

◊

Gabriella’s
Valkyrie, the 1km
Blazing Trumpet
, emerged from Nospace. Apart from
regular updates from their spies, allies, and assets, the voyage from Makon had
been uneventful. Gabriella had spent much of the time testing the mettle of the
men under her command. And under her covers.

Sammael was
already on the bridge by the time Gabriella walked in. He stood to one side of
her command seat and bowed slightly as she seated herself. The large screens in
front of her showed a large disco ball hanging before the orange and yellow
backdrop of the gas giant.

“What’s the status
of our asset?," she asked without turning her head.

“He’s already
arrived Princess. Other sources reveal that the data exchange will take place
tomorrow.”

“Good. I’m still
rather surprised it was the Shepherds that developed the Overdrive. Never
thought they had it in them.”

“Survival often
engenders innovation.”

“That’s very good
Sammael," she said, smiling and turning to her assistant. “Make it up
yourself?”

Sammael grinned
back. “Just then actually.”

“I’m impressed. I
knew I kept you around for something.”

“I thought you
kept me around for a few more reasons," he replied, looking petulant.

“Oh for fuck’s
sake. You’re not going to get huffy with me because I been shagging the crew
now are you?”

“No Princess. Its
just that I thought we had an arrangement.”

“Yes we do,"
she said, steel entering her voice. “Get me the Overdrive and I let you live.”
She watched as anger and frustration crossed his face before being wiped off
and replaced with his normal lack of expression. She’d have to be careful with
Sammael. He was prone to acts of extreme violence if provoked and he was, after
all, still rather useful.

Her voice suddenly
changed, dripping seduction. “And if you do, then I will certainly honor our so
called arrangement and allow you back into my bedroom.”

A smile briefly
crossed his lips. “Yes Princess.”

◊

“If you put that
wig anywhere near me, you loose the arm.”

The Nephillim aide
hurriedly pulled the offending wig away. Asel glared at him. The Nephillim took
another step back.

Asel and 10 of his
Nephillim were standing in the customs area of Fever.  Despite stern, vigorous
and even threatening protests, the customs officials had refused to relent on
the dress code. Three of them were huddling to one side casting nervous glances
at Asel.