Garron had this thing for old-style flatties. He said they were more believable than holos. I don’t know about that, but some of them were fun to watch, even if you couldn’t pick your perspective and had to watch from a fixed vantage point. There were the classics, like ‘Agent Ex' and ‘Brillig’, but Garron's favourite was ‘The Deviant Trio’, a psychological study of violent mental instabilities. The three main characters suffered from a wide variety of developmental syndromes and emotional problems. I found it rather distressing viewing but Garron, for some reason, thought it was hilarious. Anyway, there was a scene of the three of them trying to dispose of an explosive, a round bomb they tossed to each other as its fuse burned lower and lower. Finally, their sadistic leader, Moe, pretended he wanted the bomb and the masochist Larry and the holy fool Curly took it from him and were caught in the explosion.
So there’s Spidrick, myself, the Doctor and a bomb under a table. We looked at it and each other and reached the same unspoken conclusions. We didn't have time to defuse it. We couldn’t just leave our stuff. But if one of us grabbed the equipment, shielded it with his body and ran as fast as he could... well, there was a chance. But who would do the noble deed?
Blessing Garron’s questionable taste, I remembered Moe.
'I’ll do it,' I said, with my most earnest, ‘umble sincerity. 'You two run down the corridor. I still have active nanos, so I’ll survive. Doctor, you said your nanos were wonky so it’s too dangerous for you: you might die. And Spidrick, if this doesn’t work the Doctor will need your knowledge of the area to escape.' I grasped their arms in manly supplication. 'Just promise me you’ll save the princess.'
Flush with the certainty of their noble objections, I airily dismissed them.
Once again proving life is crueller than fiction, they legged it.
Spidrick grasped my shoulders and kissed my cheek. 'Good man!' he said, and sprinted away. The Doctor grinned, clapped my arm and trotted off. Over his shoulder he said, 'Good plan, Unstoffe, good plan!' Then, I swear, he said “Woot-woot-woot” as he retreated. Just like Curly.'
'Oh I never! You’re just imagining things!' laughed the Doctor. The three Bobs looked him, curious.
'Honestly... I’ve never heard of these “deviants”. Anyway, Unstoffe, you survived, didn’t you?
I knew you would, anyway. No way would Yaka have blown up his own prison. Honestly, “Curly”!' He crossed his arms and slumped in his chair and muttered, 'Everyone knows Shemp was funnier.'
'Hummph! Yes, I survived. I took careful hold of the communicator and the sonic (ignoring the sturdy pistol), braced myself and leaped away. My feet had not touched the floor when I saw the flash. Then I was picked up, hit the ceiling head first and mercifully blacked out. I was getting good at blacking out, wasn’t I? Hope it never comes up again, but still... handy in a crisis.
For example, I apparently slept through yet another thrilling series of dangerous adventures, which suits me fine. With Spidrick lugging me on his back, they made their way through the maze of palace tunnels and secret passages. They had several close calls with the Imperial forces but finally found an actual secret entrance to the Rallax service tunnels. In short order they found the central control complex and emergency medical bay and that’s where I woke up a stiff neck, a sore back and a firm resolve to never, ever again attempt reverse psychology.
I lay there, lulled by the comforting bloops and beeps of technology, when I began to discern the Doctor and Spidrick's voices. Reluctantly, I began to climb off the auto-doc when I was gently restrained.
'Hold your horses, hero,' said a familiar voice, and the princess loomed into view. 'Let the table decide if you can get up.'
'You mean “hold my bears”, surely,' I said.
She shushed me with a finger to my lips and spoke to a console. 'Scan for release,' she said, and the unit hummed.
'Approved,' said a kindly, mechanical voice, 'Have a healthy day!'
'Let’s go see what those maniacs are up to,' said the princess, helping me up, 'You’ve missed quite a bit.' ;Princess, “a bit” ?'
She laughed. 'A lot, then. I’ll bring you up to speed. Mind the step, there.'
I’d been out for nearly half a day, it transpired. The Doctor had taken one look at the control room and gleefully gone to work. He’d taken a census (You have over 120,000 living residents there, Bobs. Did you realize that?), pinpointed the princess’s location by the process of elimination and remotely ordered two robotic Cossacks to escort her here.
After assuring themselves of her integrity they’d allowed her to sit with me.
Spidrick grinned over a cigar. 'Here comes trouble, then. Feeling fit, lad?'
I drank in the room. Consoles and monitors were everywhere; on one wall was an interactive map of the entirety of Red Revolution. I saw weather machines, robot override switches, food distribution controls. Two hulking Cossacks guarded the door. On one on screen I saw Yaka pacing and shouting at Tsar Nick, who stroked his long white beard and tickled the ear of a large deer, one of a small herd lounging prettily about the throne room.
Distracted though I was by the princess’s proximity, I immediately saw the possibilities.
And what possibilities! From this single room a clever man could control the world.
The Doctor read my expression. 'Oh, he likes it, doesn’t he?' He spun his chair. 'Now that we’re all here, down to business! What shall it be?'
Shawnee said, 'A surprise abdication by Rasputin and the Tsar?'
The Doctor sneered. 'Trust a princess to think of that. No, there would be a run on the throne. It would be chaos.'
I said, 'Not if their replacement is seen to have the support of the Cossacks.'
Spidrick nodded. 'It’s true. None dare oppose the Cossacks, not even the army. Not since Yaka supplied them with swords.'
The Doctor tapped a console with his index finger, thinking. I smiled when I saw Rasputin, his steel skull glinting in the torchlight, in the same pose on a monitor behind him. He even looked a bit like the previous Doctor who, if he’d been here, could have impersonated Rasputin to a tee, just like -'
'Unstoffe! Will you please stop wasting these good robot’s time and get on with it? You’re practically finished!'
'Please sit, Doctor,' said Bob Name Your Poison, 'We do not require your input.'
'Now, Peter Unstoffe,' said Bob What a Deal, 'Please continue. You were saying?'
'Sorry, Bobs. What I was saying won’t help you regain control of Rallax. My mind was just wandering. Won’t happen again.'
'We were talking about how to conquer Red Revolution,but I was wondering why we were bothering...
'Of course...' I ventured, 'we could do nothing.'
Seeing their expressions, I added, 'I’m serious. Aren’t we trying to find your ship and escape, Doctor? Why get involved here when we’re in a hurry? Just hack the schematics in the console there and find us a way to the surface.'
'You’re forgetting something, Unstoffe,' said Spidrick. 'This is the first revolution since Yaka became captain of the guard. He’s armed the Cossacks with swords and they haven’t the wit to question their orders. Thousands will die unless we act!'
'Oh, that damned Yaka!' I said. 'Why is it always the least qualified who seek power?'
'As far as Yaka’s concerned he is qualified. Don’t forget, he was in the line of succession. Way down there, but a royal, nonetheless. Still, he’d be a miserable administrator. All he really enjoys is shouting down at people.'
On the screen, Rasputin, the Tsar, eight deer and the imperial guard were leaving Yaka alone in the throne room. He bowed stiffly until they were gone.
The princess said, 'Don’t forget, we control the Cossacks. If we tell them not to kill...'
'The regulars are also armed with swords...'
'But if Yaka’s out of the picture they’ll obey the royals...'
'I’m not convinced of that. He’s kept them well-supplied with women and vodka...'
'Then Yaka himself will have to give the order to stand down,' said the Doctor, 'and he has to be persuaded to do so...'
'No he doesn’t,' I said.
On the throne room monitor I saw Yaka gazing at the empty throne, hands clenched.
'Just look at him,' I said. 'Doesn’t he look sad? Let’s give him what he wants.'
Directly east from the former Tsar’s palace, deep in the forest, at the end of a wide trail, is a clearing at the base of the Western cliff. There is no stairway to the stars here –that was a secondary entry for staff. Instead, a grand waterfall fills a deep clear pool. A road runs behind it and the rock wall there lifts on a pivot. Beyond is the Garden Highway.
This is where Spidrick made his failed escape attempt.
To the north the land turns to frozen tundra and icy seas. To the south rears an unscaled range of mountains.
To the East lie vast stretches of grey prairie broken only by crumbling colossi, meandering black rivers and the occasional grim village. The only light in this dismal landscape reflected from the silver tracks of the rail road. Belching black smoke, we rode east. The Doctor never left the engine; all through the day we heard his whoops, carried back by the wind. The princess and I shared a carriage. We talked, but not about anything important. Once, she visited the new Tsar, Yaka, who rode with his silent Cossack guard in the coach ahead; he was seething with impotent rage. Spidrick had stayed behind to explain the new regime to his followers while the new Tsar “inspected the provinces”.
We arrived at the Eastern sea an hour before dawn. The Cossacks were given final orders and the train returned to the west. We found the docks and the sail boats moored there. The princess had skill with rope and canvas and soon we were gliding across the still waters.
We sailed into the sunrise and came to the wall of the world. A blue tunnel, invisible against the sky, led to an interior dock. We scraped the mild and salt crust from the machinery there and the Doctor went to work. He finished as the light of the setting sun filled the room with warm light and shadows. 'They call this the magic hour,' said the Doctor, throwing a switch.
A platform hummed. 'Presto!'
'Is it safe?' I wondered, 'I don’t want to appear a mile above ground.'
'No, it’s all fixed. Perfectly safe. Stand right there and I’ll show you.'
'Doctor, stand right there?'
'Never mind, Peter, I’ll be the penny hog,' said the princess.
'I’m only kidding! We all go,' said the Doctor, extending both elbows so we could take his arms. 'Allons-y!'
We took one step toward the transmat when the green light turned puce and the pitch changed.
'There’s someone coming through!' cried the princess.
'Can you stop it, Doctor?'
'Yes, but why would we want to? We’ve been kicking around the basement long enough! It’s time to go upstairs and-'
Three figures in battle armour appeared on the platform. More or less in tandem, three large blasters were levelled at us.
'-meet the landlords.'
I sat back and pretended to study my fingernails. Bob Name your Poison looked at his partners.
'Wait! Are you done?' he asked me.
'Hmm? Of course I am. The three of you brought us up here, locked us up and interrogated us. Story over. Told you everything I know.'
'But what happened to Yaka? Why is he the Tsar and why did the princess kiss him?' asked Bob What a Deal.
'Are you in love now?' Bob Sunny Day wanted to know.
I suddenly adored these idiot machines and wondered if I could keep them. 'I’m pleased you’ve become so engrossed in the story-'
'Oh, yes, yours was the best. The Doctor has no sense of continuity and the princess kept explaining her emotional state. She likes you, by the way but isn’t sure you meet her male ideal as exemplified by her father.'
'Oh, that’s very kind of you to say. But aren’t you forgetting something?'
'How did the princess know about the tunnels? She told us.'
'No. Have you forgotten the entire reason we had this little chat?'
'Why we are being attacked by Cossacks and humans? You haven’t explained that.'
'No, the other thing. Think ‘slabby’.'
They held a silent conference as gunfire erupted outside, surely a mere corridor or two away.
Bob Name your Poison leaped to his feet. 'Registry! You’ve told us where to find the ship’s registry!'
'They aren’t half dim, aren’t they?' murmured the Doctor.
The inaudible conference recommenced. I turned to the others and smiled. The Doctor had been running his sonic on stealth mode and the verifier had let some whoppers pass. Well, no, that’s not quite true. Just been a few strategic omissions, is all. You have my complete assurance that over ninety percent of what I told the robots is true.
I realized they were now staring at me. 'Yes?'
'To verify –One must travel in a western direction from transmat station Red Revolution 2212 to the Garden Highway 47 exit 4550G, exiting through filtration vent GN-78463, proceed in a rightward direction down to the termination point of Intercell Maintenance Corridor 12,675H? This is correct? This is where we will find the unfortunate Mr. Garron?'
I heard a rapidly intensifying beeping just outside the door. The princess and the Doctor ducked and covered. 'Well, I suppose you could go to all that trouble,' I quickly said as I dove for the floor. The door concussed off its frame and knocked the robots flat. A figure in full Levithian armour strode into the room through the billowing smoke.
'Then again,' he said, removing his helmet, 'I suppose I can spare you the effort.'
'It’s the Graff Vynda-K!' came an awed whisper, quickly shushed, from under the wreckage.
'Garron!' I cried. Unaccountably overjoyed, I leaped to my feet and embraced him.
'Stop that, boy, you’re spoiling my entrance!'
The princess laughed.
'You took your sweet time,' said the Doctor, 'How many bloody hints did you need?'
Martial music swelled and someone else stepped into the room and looked around wonderingly. 'I abjure you not to dishonour Mr. Garron. He showed great fortitude as he lay with this spear transfixing his magic pocket.'
'Chief! You made it!'
'Evidently, observant one. Greetings and thank you again, my saviour.'
'Please, I couldn’t let that hatch cut you in half, could I? Besides, you’ve more than repaid the debt, sitting with Garron that whole time, holding the spear steady.'
A weak voice drifted from under the door. 'Mr. Garron is not dead? What infamy is this, Peter Gulliver
Unstoffe?'
'Infamy? Infamy?'said Garron, 'I’ll hear no talk of infamy! You’ve been conned, my dim-witted plastic friends, fair and square.'
'Conned?'said Bob What a Deal.
Garron peered down at him. 'Yes, conned. Tricked. Fooled. Deceived. Swindled. Defrauded.'