Alistair Raven and the Stormtrooper in Stilettos (Book 1)

Part 3 - Chatter 6

With a frisson of anticipation, Elvis whistled the Col Bogey March; the others fidgeted impatiently, riding the pneumatic swift up to the docking pontoon. From the grimy cabin, they watched Capt Baker priming the engines, warming up the Saskatoon and recalibrating the stealth camouflaging; the airship twinkled, changing its outward appearance and concealing itself with forged Futurist markings before disappearing completely.

Their journey to the Pleasuredome, a hop, skip and a jump across town, would see them cloaked out to the shipping lanes of the English Channel, where they would reappear legitimately on Futurist radars, whence they would u-turn and head back to the city – a roundtrip of about ninety minutes.

Alistair ticked off a mental checklist to be sure he was carrying everything he owned. Balderick sat on his head, scratching as he looked out over the urban skyline, munching on biscuit pieces Alistair fed up to him.

"Don't squeeze those too hard," Julian warned Chelsea as she rolled a sparkler around her fingertips. "They're quite the nifty little deterrent."

"What? Like this?" she teased, deliberately pinching the sparkler membrane between her gnashing teeth.

"Be a dear and suck it like a gobstopper," Julian suggested. "I could do with the peace and quiet."

"Do you think it was wise to give explosives to a child," Delilah asked disapprovingly.

"Mere child's play," Julian shrugged.

"Oh sparklers," Rocket noticed cheerfully. "Nice." he added, snatching the one off Chelsea and flicking it out the window only for it to detonate with a pop/bang. "It's all in the flick!"

"Must you? Those things could take an eye out!" Delilah said curtly in annoyance. "And Mr D'Gama, would you please cease that god-awful whistling?"

The swift stopped and so did the whistling.

"Leave your inhibitions at the door," Julian jested as they shuffled on to the pontoon.

"Everyone got their Looney?" Elvis asked. All nodded and the doors closed. Elvis fished a small packet of pictures from his breast pocket as they began their ascent. "I figured if the Cap'n can do it, so can I," he grinned handing each of the team a black and white photograph of a sweet looking lady, pouting seductively at the camera.

Julian laughed heartily. "You cow," he snorted.

"Who is it?" Alistair asked innocently.

"Essy," Chelsea answered.

"What is this?" Delilah sniffed.

"It's a copy of the one out the Cap'n's locker," Elvis admitted. "It'll bring you extra special good luck."

Rocket admired the picture. "She's a good sort."

"The best!" Elvis sighed. "Ain't been the same since she's gone."