“Well lookie here,” lookied Sid, “an English speaking Varangian guard.”
“That is funny Sid,” observed Arthur.
“What?”
“Well on the real earth the Varangian Guard were those Vikings that guarded the Eastern Roman Emperor at Constantinople.”
“Oh yes,” said Sid sarcastically, “laugh out loud funny.”
“Just question him Sid,” ordered Arthur in a blunt kind of way. As bluntly as a mace used to chop celery.
“Where is the drone?” staccatoed Sid in a mock impersonation of a German interrogator.
“Oh very good Sid,” complimented Arthur, “nice SS interrogator voice.”
“I thought so,” said Sid.
“So did I,” said the guard.
“Are ye gonna tell us or what?” asked the dwarf.
“Are you going to torture me?”
“Noo, I’ll just rip your arm off with my incredibly powerful exoskeleton encased in my battlesuit.”
“It is in the cellar, across the courtyard and down the steps,” shivered the guard.
“Thanks,” said Sid as he bonked the guard on the head to knock him out.”
“Are you going to fly me over there Sid?” asked Arthur.
“Lazy thing,” rebuked Sid.
“It just saves me getting shot at.”
“Come on then,” said the dwarf as he picked Arthur up and flew him over to the cellar. Somebody tried to shoot him. The shot ricocheted off Sid’s armour.
“It looks like my armour saved you from getting shot.”
“Yes, that was fortunate.”
YOU ARE READING
Romancing the Drone
Science FictionArthur is now working for British Intelligence in the romance dimension. A foreign power has captured a cutting edge surveillance drone and he must recover it. Of course things would be easier if it didn't have a mind of its own.
