Alistair Raven and the Stormtrooper in Stilettos (Book 1)

Part 2 - Chatter 21

"Alista-irrrrrrrr," Delilah trilled with an ear piercing inflection.

Curled on the settee, Capt Baker - boots on, braces down, cautious pistol in hand - was already asleep. Elvis was suffering from exhaustion; zombified, Capt Baker's chainsaw snore and Delilah's shrill voice annoyed him no end. Slumped in the comms room a flickering monitor caught his attention.

"Genius," Elvis said ironically as he propped himself up in the chair, reaching for his bag of Kopi balls, which was empty. "Who's got the goons chattering?"

"Have you seen Alistair?" Delilah asked as she slid open the doors and stepped in, handing Elvis a large mug of piping hot black tea.

"Quality," Elvis said, perking up. He sipped cautiously; the brew was just what he required. Fiddling with a knob, he strengthened the reception and tried to make sense of the heightened comms chatter.

"They're nowhere to be found," Delilah said coolly, taking the spare seat. "I certainly hope Mr. Essex has not led Alistair astray."

Elvis shrugged. "He's a boy; you have to let 'im play once in a while."

Delilah wrinkled her nose.

"My mam does that," Elvis chuckled. "Always exasperated her lil' boy is wasting 'is life on cunning stunts and the like."

"Well, I'd prefer Alistair grew up without any of this nonsense, but seeing as he already idolises you and Capt Baker, what chance have I keeping him on the straight and narrow?"

Elvis hooted. "Idolises? Really?" Delilah feigned ignorance.

"One time, just for a moment, could you be serious?" Delilah asked the hacker; his blank expression answered her question. "So what were the Col Rose's original plans?" she asked, changing the subject.

"It was all a bit of a cunning stunt. For a big bang presentation, they were gonna set Bigger Ben off like a Roman candle and announce Lizzy's back in town," Elvis answered, reading dots and dashes on a Morse code tape. "It's more fun now, what with Chancellor Malarky unshackling your wrinkly in front of an audience of millions. When it all goes pear shaped, the execution will just be the prelude to retrolution."

"I might go check the Drill Room," Delilah said, distracted.

"To find our star struck lovers?" Elvis chortled. "Why bother, we can look 'em up on here."

"Pardon?" Delilah said, squaring an eyebrow.

"Cap'n thought it might be prudent to tag your lad so he doesn't go missing."

Elvis switched the central screen to the army's personal tracking devices.

"See these blooms," Elvis pointed at the monitor. "That's Thatcher's mob at Emancipation Square – they've been piping in Liquo all day, with the goons none the wiser. Over 'ere, that's Black Dog and 'er lot fitting the last of the fireworks. All these others, they're on miscellaneous recon, sniffing out hot spots and vantage points, meddling with security and stashing weapons. Seriously, it's been a lot of farting about but it's tragic how easy it was to get all that Liquo in to Bigger Ben. Now the Xmas hols are here, we're locking down to save the simpletons from themselves, but even without our consciences, Goon central is more relaxed than an alky's tongue."

"You can't be serious," Delilah replied, amazed with their sheer audacity.

"Oh I is. Quality, eh? With very little, we've got Bigger Ben jam packed with that much Liquo that I wouldn't be surprised if we can't raise Guy Fawkes from the dead."

"Even considering my programmed dislike and disdain for Futurists, surely countless innocents will be in peril from your skylarking? And please, don't tell me not to 'vex'"

"Don't you worry your lil' noggin, it's all been taken care of. It's going to go right off, like a banging good time and the only ones who will be soured are fascist frenemies," Elvis assured.

Delilah didn't share Elvis' confidence.

"If those clusters are Col Rose's squaddies, who is that then?" Delilah asked, pointing a finger over a trio of beeping pulses a distance away from the other clusters. A storm of red blips – Futurist Guards – began to encircle the trio like a toxic algal bloom.

"Oh sugar!" Elvis squirmed, dropping the mug as profanity filled the room. Tapping away madly at his keyboard, his stomach knotted, and retrieving more data, his worst fears were realised. The sinew in Delilah's shoulders tightened; anticipating a fight, she closed her eyes and hoped this was merely a system malfunction.

"No...no...no... The blinking Agents have gone to red alert." Elvis scrunched up his face, closing his eyes, listening intently to a series of coded comms messages.

"Let me guess: Mr. Essex, Ms Rose and Alistair?" Delilah probed. Elvis gulped.

"Blast it Alistair!" Delilah bristled, her protection bot mode kicking in.

"What in hell are they playing at?" Elvis yelped nervously, urgently hacking; flicking up his scanners to the high priority Agent of Change frequency, he hoisted his headset over his ear and listened intently.

"Cap'n," Elvis yelled out at the top of his lungs. "Cap'n, wake up NOW!!!"

Capt Baker startled and rolled off the settee and staggered like an automaton towards the comms room.

"Get in 'ere," Elvis yelled. "We've got big blooming trouble!"

Within a second the proverbial had well and truly hit the fan. Elvis looked up at Delilah disbelievingly as he scribbled madly and pushed up from the comms desk whilst Capt Baker, with heavy, baggy circles around his eyes, stood hitching up his braces.

"So much for a quiet nap," he complained.

Elvis tugged his fur-lined chapka down over his ears.

"We've got BIG BAD trouble," he understated as he zipped up his jacket, then lent back over the keyboard and tapped in orders, sending out a high-priority scrambled message to Col Rose and his men.

"Prep the ship," Capt Baker ordered.

"Tunny," Elvis called into a small communicator on a wrist-strap linked directly to the Saskatoon's navsystem computer. "Alpha code 2-4-1-1-9-1, hot systems activate; prepare for an inject evac, superheat the thrusters and reroute extra energy to the cloak and the shields. And warm the cannons."

Delilah scrunched her fingers in to fists as the children's location flashed on the screen.

"Ship's prepping," Elvis confirmed. "I've sent our rendezvous to Rose. They'll have to meet us there. We're in deep, deep doo-doo Cap'n and we don't have a second to lose."

"How deep?" Capt Baker asked popping gum tablets in to his mouth and grinding them with his teeth before hoisting on his gun gurney.

"Let's put it this way, we're chained in a septic tank, and we're sinking to the bottom and we ain't got no trick or treat escape," Elvis answered crudely. Sprinting for the airlock, Elvis winched it open, jumping in to the grotto and scrambling up the rung ladder.

Capt Baker slapped his own face waking himself up, then straightened his arms and allowed his handguns to slide out and he ensured both were loaded before cocking his arms and re-setting the springs. Pulling on his thick long-coat and straightening his hat, he marched to the vault exit with Delilah. Slamming the door behind them, Capt Baker was last man up the ladder.

"See, this is why we don't take lodgers!" Elvis called down. Delilah half apologised, trying to make excuses but Capt Baker was having none of it.

"Elvis...where exactly did you say the kids were again?"