Alistair Raven and the Stormtrooper in Stilettos (Book 1)

Part 3 - Chatter 2

"Heaven's above, I can't think why!" Julian said cynically.

"Alistair's right. We can't give up," Chelsea reiterated.

"That is easy for you to say, my darling, but the party's over," Julian confirmed.

"Before it even began?" Alistair quizzed.

"What claptrap!" Chelsea argued. "Dad would never let this happen if he were here."

"Apparently daddy dearest was the only one with gumption. The lily-livers are now running the show. Of course, you're more than welcome to put your thoughts forward at the crisis meeting this afternoon," Julian noted slyly as he absentmindedly re-pinned a tin badge on his breast. "The lads have undergone a crisis in confidence. They need someone to pep them up."

"Crisis? What crisis? Running away won't solve anything," Chelsea argued, her pale face regaining some semblance of colour as she got cranky. "Dad wouldn't do it to you lot. He'd stand and fight! I can't believe it...what nega-trons!"

"I'm just saying, don't be surprised if they pull up stumps," Julian conceded.

Alistair's mind began scheming at a million miles an hour.

"No Julian," Alistair answered sternly. "A Loyalist never gives up."

Julian looked up under his eyelids at the two feisty children, standing their ground, growing ten feet tall and bulletproof.

"Teenagers, eh? Rushing headlong, out of control. Who'd have thunk it? You've convinced me, now you have to win over the others. If you do, remind me to pack my pills and thrills and bellyaches."

**********************

A gloomy air of pessimism pervaded the amphitheatre where all the soldiers had congregated and Alistair and Chelsea did not like it one bit. Capt Baker sat cleaning his Mauser C96's on a TekMat; Delilah had positioned herself in the front row with her hands demurely in her lap and ankles crossed beside a humming Elvis and Julian with his hair tautly wrapped in curlers. Soldiers were sprinkled over the seats, some slouched with their feet up, or others chatting nervously to one another. Flash was engrossed in a Sly-Fi novel – Europa and the Pirate Twins - whilst Rocket called for order. A dispirited Shadowplay ignored Rocket, his unjustifiable line of argument being they couldn't go on and it was time to pack their bags.

"I don't know how much worse you would like it before you face facts. Plenty KIA and we're next. Col Rose, the Sarge and the rest of the lads are looking at having their necks stretched. I'm as loyal as the next man, but going in under-strength and half cocked is not a plan. That's a suicide mission."

"He's got a salient point there," Sunburn concurred being Shadowplay's most ardent supporter.

"Someone's been attacking a thesaurus," Rocket mocked Sunburn but Rocket was ably supported by the oldest soldier amongst them.

"This is not a Butlin's summer camp. You're in the army now," Snowblind reminded. "You swore allegiance to Queen and Country."

"You're asking us, with just over one squad of troops, to carry out the Carols by Candlelight? Not on your nelly," Shadowplay replied emphatically.

"We're stuffed," Sunburn added sourly, drumming up support from the other squaddies. "So why should we listen to this sleeper bloke?"

The soldiers bickered amongst themselves.

"Quiet," Rocket ordered.

"Who died and left you in charge?" Sunburn spat.

"So you want to fight me now?" Rocket sighed. "Come on lads, this is an open forum. Let's keep it positive. No one is taking control."