h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I would be honoured!

Oh and if you get the chance could ask around and see if anyone else in the Thingites or anyone else would be interested?

Oooooh I've just had another thought.... Clive you're an ACE aren't you?

I was wondering if maybe we could get some ACE's involved telling people what its like to be an ACE an be part of introducing people to h2g2...

What are the ACE's up to these days anyway?

My attempt at re-jigging Sebastian's introduction.

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It was cold. The room temperature was fine. They'd sorted out all the major problems of heating in Antarctica years ago. But everything through to his very essence was shivering. Sebastian Grobsvaughn, had - for a monk - always been a poor sleeper. He thought that there was some terrible sin that he had committed that made him suffer this eternal torment. He had done all that he was asked of by the cult which he followed. After his loving parents and siblings died in the family house during a fire in Belgium, he had to come to this inhospitable climate. In the event modern technology had made it as comfortable as anywhere, but his cell was sparse - as was expected. That was apart from a large collection of books on an old table.

Sebastian had always had an inquisitive mind, and part of his strong belief in the cult was that there was so much more to see. But this was taking him places even other members of the cult would find uncomfortable - so he kept a lot of it to himself.

Today marked the beginning of a new journey for him, so once again he found himself knelt on the floor of his cell consulting the runes that had always been an invaliable guide when Sebsatian was troubled.

The Runes today were unclear. Again. They'd been like this ever since he'd been given the news of...of his mission. Sebastian shook a carved tumbler that resemble the sort you used to get in Yahtzee boardgames. He spilt the runes out onto a velvent mat and let them speak.

Collectively,the runes spoke of the future, which was in itself something of a comfort. There was one rune that was deeply troubling him since it kept occuring again and again.

The Ibis bird.

This rune spoke of the underworld, where the souls of the dead where weighed. This was also the symbol of the God Thoth associated with the moon, magic and astronomy amongst other things. It was confusing.

So much that was still unclear. Perhaps one more toss....

He startled by a loud knocking of the door. "Sebastian," a fellow monk called from without and said sternly, "It's time to begin."

Silently Sebastian nodded and got up. Unknowing what the day had in store for him...

---------------------

Also below is Vandeveer's death scene.

I've added a little to Legion's prose to get across that the guards at the Egyptian Citadel as well as The Abbot were loyal to Annabel not the old Grand Master she killed.

Putting Mary and her cohorts in the dog-house potentially with Annabel.

Also I felt Annabel's segue into her accoutn of arriving back at Cult HQ was a bit brief so I've padded that out a bit with some more dialogue from Mary and Vandeveer to prompt the flashback.

The finished chapter 52 is here A13780659

Clive.

--------------------


The inner sanctum was dimly lit by nine, weighty, six-foot candles placed around the curved walls. Before each candle was placed a baroque wooden throne, and on each throne a hooded figure brooded in their personal pool of darkness. The central throne of the nine, placed on a small dais, was marginally less tasteful than the other eight - gargoyles, arabesques and fish all carved in dark wood featured heavily in its design. The space in front of the thrones was illuminated by a single guttering candle. If H.R. Giger overdosed on trashy Gothic novels and cheese then fell asleep, this is the scene he would probably dream up.

Vanderveer blinked irritably in the darkness, turning on his heel in the pool of light. Sreka stood placidly beside him, one hand on the stretcher.

"Which one of you do I talk to?"

An elderly voice spoke from the shadows.

"All may speak as one, Reto Vanderveer. You may speak to all."

"Right. Right. Well, I want you to know that I know what you're up to. I know about the laser, and the flood. I'm not stupid."

"A remarkable claim."

The Elder seated behind him had spoken and he spun around, flustered.

"That's right. Yes. Now, watch this." Producing a syringe from his sleeve, he jabbed it into Mary's neck. A moment later her head snapped up.

"What the hell?" she said muzzily. "Where...?"

"The paralysis," declaimed Vanderveer, beginning to regain his confidence, "is only temporary. This woman is known to you, I believe?"

A voice spoke from the darkness.

"Sister Mary."

Mary twisted around towards the voice.

"Yes." she croaked. "Who wants to know?"

A different, male voice spoke from another direction.

"You address The Grand Master, Sister Mary.

Mary stared into the darkness surrounding the dais and perceived nothing.

A thrid voice from a throne on the left spoke. "We are all disappointed in you. You have been careless."

Mary spat. "Who could have known this worm had the balls? Excellency?"

"Enough!" Vanderveer fired at the ceiling.

The shot echoed and re-echoed in the great empty space. Silent moments passed, and then there was a chink by his feet. Sreka snapped out a hand and grabbed the bullet as it bounced - piping hot, and not warped by impact with any ceiling. He squinted at the dark void above him, and looked thoughtful.

Vanderveer was pointing the gun at Mary's head.

"You will end the world as we know it - kill unimaginable numbers of people..."

There was silence.

Tha"t's fine. I can respect that."

"We are so pleased." voiced said gratiously

Vanderveer licked his lips nervously and glanced back and forth.

"But...I have a daughter."

Sreka raised an eyebrow.

"You...you have her under surveillance. That son of a...Von Trapp knew about her...about her riding lessons."

He jammed the barrel of the gun into Mary's head, and she snarled. "Send for her. Immediately."

"You are swimming with sharks now, little villain."

That remark had come from The Grand Master's chair on the raised dais.

The shadow in the Grand Master's chair was stirring, and now advanced into the pool of light. The candlelight crept up from a pair of feet, revealing first an incongruous pair of Manolo Blahniks, then a superbly-tailored robe which seemed to incorporate elements of the corporate power-suit in its design, and finally a familiar, blandly-smiling face.

"Sister Annabel!" croaked Mary.

"Smittington!" Vandeveer mouthed silently for a moment, shocked.

"But...you were my handler. They said you were busy...they sent Von Trapp."

Mary interrupted: "You are The Grand Master?"

Annabel Smittington smirked. Vandeveer glanced about, not sure what was about to happen.

"In your absence, there was a change in the executive."

"How? When?"

"All in good time." Annabel silenced her with a wave of her hand. "We have other, more pressing matters at hand," - and she glanced at Vandeveer, who rudely pointed the gun at her, shaking ever-so slightly at the ebbing power games surrounding him.

"But make no mistake, Sister Mary, someone will be made to account for all the guards I had sent to the citadel. I'm presuming they are all dead, is this not the case?"

"But we...I thought."

"Alas, I fear, thinking was something you did not do."

Mary was silenced.

"Unlike you, I plan ahead. The Cult's aim to support the Ascension of Rasputin to rule, temporarily on the above-ground had gone sour as I had long suspected it would. I escaped and returned to Alpha Complex. I went to see him - The Grand Master."

"What happened?" Mary gasped.

Anna reminisced....



The Grand Master was clearing his throat. Being an exceedingly elderly man, he took quite a long time about this, and produced some interesting noises. Annabel tapped a heel, and bided her time. She stood in the pool of light before the Elders. Finally, the Grand Master felt he had banished as much phlegm as he was likely to, and he spoke.

"Toooo suuuummaaarise, theeeen," he said, "youuuur missssiion was an unqualified failure. Not oooonly did youu faaaail to aaassist the Beast in detonaaating theee Engine at Stoneheeeenge, you actually played a paaart in his downfaaaall."

There was the sound of a file being rifled through.

"A blackjack isss mentiooooned heeere. And Mace. Would youu caare to explaaaain youuurself?"

Annabel smiled.

"Sure thing, Excellency. At a certain point during my holy mission, I surmised that the whole Rasputin business could only be a subterfuge - a distraction for the Agency fools to expend their energy upon while we prepared our endgame. I took steps to prevent the world being destroyed by the Beast in order that the future might belong to the Cult, and the Pilchard."

She clasped a hand over her heart at this last part, and bowed her head. She sneaked a look up to see if her piety was well-received.

The Master clapped slowly.

"Veeery aaastute, Sisteeer Annaaabeel. You read the desiiiigns of theee Eldeeers preeeecisely."

She beamed with pride.

"Theeese weeeere not, howeveeeer, the terms of youur missssiiiion. The penaaalty for faaailuuuuure isss deeaath."

"My mission was intended to fail!"

A dry chuckle from the shadows.

"Yes."

Annabel bit her tongue, and counted to ten. When she spoke, it was through a brittle smile.

"This is a glass ceiling thing, isn't it? The old guard is afraid of dynamic young female Cultists like Sister Mary and myself. I already do approximately 90% of the work around here and receive no credit..."

There was a round of laughter from the darkness, and Annabel felt the blood rushing to her fists.

The Grand Master had lapsed into another bout of phlegm clearance but another of the Elder's spoke on his behalf.

"The...suffragettist period of world history is an aberration. The Cult is above minor historical movements. The natural order will be restored. Woman will be kept in her place."

Annabel nodded slowly, eyes burning.

"I understand and obey. I presume that I may appeal the sentence? Trial by ordeal?"

The Master sniffed. "Naturaaally. If you think youuuu're up too the taaaask..."

"I do."



The Chamber of Ordeal was, in essence, a pit, with a balcony around the edge where the Elders arranged themselves. Although they preserved their air of dignity, several bags of popcorn were circulating. Annabel was doing stretches in the pit, touching her toes and eyeing her opponent warily. He was a junior Cultist from the Shipping division, a massive young man called Brother Otis with muscles the size of her head. He glowered dumbly at her, and she smiled sweetly. This foxed him.

"Begin!"

Two flashes of light from the balcony, and two ceremonial daggers were sticking in the earth in the centre of the pit. Both fighters dashed forward and snatched a dagger. Annabel skipped lightly backwards out of range of Otis' first clumsy lunge. The trick would be to get his head down...

She dug the dagger into her robe and ripped away a large swathe of useless skirt covering her legs. Up on the balcony, an elderly Elder had a minor heart attack.

"Tora! Tora!" she crowed, as Otis lumbered towards her. She adopted the pose of a matador, and shook the skirt provocatively. This prompted a deep-seated instinctive reaction in Otis - his head went down, his nostrils flared and he charged.

Timing her jump exactly, Annabel flipped up out of his dagger's range, gained the smallest of footholds on his broad back and thrust herself up high into the air...

She was level with the balcony only for a moment, but that moment was all she needed. Her hand shot out, releasing the dagger...


A cry went out...


"Stop! Stop the Ordeal!"

The balcony was a confusion of wailing faces and waving arms.

"He is dead! Our great Master is dead!"

On his throne, the Grand Master was slumped sideways. The dagger's hilt protruded from his throat.

"Oops!" screamed Annabel, shoulders heaving with exertion. "Did I do that? Who amongst us present at this Ordeal has the skills and experience to lead our mighty Cult now?"

There was a huddle, then the Elders reached an agreement.

"All hail Sister Annabel! Sister Annabel no more - let her be Grand Master! All hail!"

Annabel smiled again, and flicked a strand of hair from her forehead.

"That's better."

She patted Otis on one huge shoulder.

"You're fired."



Vanderveer waved his pistol frantically.

"Enough idle exposition! Have my daughter brought here immediately, or..." He dug the barrel into Mary's temple, and she snarled. "...she dies!"

"Vanderveer," croaked Mary, her eyes still half-bloody from the drug and flashing pure murder at the Dutchman. "You are so far out of your depth your ears should be popping. When this is over, there is no end to the ways I will kill you..."

"Kill her," said Annabel airily. "She means nothing to me."

"What?" Mary and Vanderveer said as one.

"Annabel, dear," howled Mary resentfully. "Think about this. While you were doing The Master's bidding with the Monk, I was in charge of the counter-offensve, the one that shall secure the Cult from it's enemies for ever."

"So you in fact possess the Turqoise Moon?"

"No!" Vandeveer cried out. "That aging fool Daltmooreby never found it."

"Not so Reto, my dear - Daltmooreby found the diamond alright - we just saw no point in telling you." Mary said spitefully.

"Fine!" Vanderveer quavered, "Then perhaps I'll kill her!" taking the gun from pointing at Mary, prostrate on the floor, and instead pointing it directly at Annabel.

He laughed wretchedly.

The Grand Master tutted, "you would be dead before you..."

She was interrupted by the appearance of Sreka over Vanderveer's shoulder.

With stoic professionalism, the Russian grasped Vandeveer's head in one hand and his shoulder in the other, and applied a sudden, steady pressure.

There was a wince-inducing series of cracks and pops, that made Everyone wince and Vanderveer flopped to the floor even more useless than he had been moments before.

There was a long silence.

Sreka caught Mary's eye, and shrugged.

"Sorry."


Annabel became aware that she was goggling, and smoothed down her robe.

"Well...well done that man. We thought you were...his ally."

Sreka yawned. "I was in his debt - now no longer. I was curious to see what his plan was. It was most disappointing."

He nudged Vanderveer's rapidly-cooling cadaver. "A daughter? Tish. The man called himself a professional."

The Russian lit a skinny black cigarette, and waved it around the silent circle of watchers.

"You will employ me."

There seemed to be only one thing for Annabel to say, so she said it: "You're hired."

Sreka took a long draw on the ciggarette, forcing the tip to glow orange, pinched it between his forefinger and thumb, held it to one side and with studied patience exhaled the fume, extending his jaw and blowing between his imperfect teeth.

He casually dopped the still ignited cigarrte and with deliberation crushed it under his heel.

"Da." he said in deep set Russian to convey the sincerety of the bargain just struck.

"and the diamond?" Annabel asked, seizing control of the agenda.

Sreka turned to leave the Inner Sanctum, cast a look back across his shoulder to the Master's raised chair.

"Daltmooreby had it last. You'll find him down the tunnel we arrived from."

"Why so delayed?" Annabell asked sweetly.

"Reto threw him off the back of the train."

and he left enigmatically envelopped by shadow.

Mary lay on the floor, propped up on one arm and rubbing the back of her neck. She wore a stunned expression and twisted around to look up at her the newly proclaimed head of The Order.

Annabell seated herself regally in the Master's central throne and smiled inscruitably.

Legion made contact.

He's off on his holidays. In case anyone had wondered.

Allo allo. Yes, I'm still about hootoo a little, just not enough time or energy to post anything substantial.

I wrote a new scene for Grobsvaugh as part of his astronaught training.

I figured on him being like the adoptive son of the aging old cultist engineer figure who's so proud that his 'son' has been selected for this special mission to fly the shuttle.



-----------------------------

Sebastain Grobsvaugh opened his locker, and holding a hanger aloft , neatened the lapels on his tunic; finally satisfied, he reached into the locker with the hanger balanced on two fingers and placed it on the bar that ran across the pole inside.

A sound behind him made him turn and stood in the doorway was the super-intendent tapping his foot, leant in through the open doorway.

"Come along Grobsvaughn." he remarked sternly.

"I'm coming." Grobsvaughn mumbled and grabbing his pilchard pendent off the table he inserted his ehad through the chain loop and jogged voer to the door being held open for him.

He emerged into a short, pale corridor and struck up a steady apce alongside hhis superior officer.

"Now listen," the old man said, "just relax out there."

"Yeah." Grobsvaughn said, haning his head.

"Look...the boys devised a solution."

"Oh?"

The wirey engineer handed Sebastian a strip of thick cottony cloth.

"er..?" Grobsvaughn said holding in a ball fist.

"It's for your eyes." the old man said sympatheically, you tie it around." and he mimed the action.

"Oh! Oh right. I get it."

"To stop you getting dizzy again. We need you in tip top shape...up there."

"Thanks. Sebastian smiled and held the cloth up "thanks for this."

"aww shucks - it's nuthin' never had one of mine been selected for a mission as grand as this."

"It sure is soemthing alright."

"Right we're here - let's get this on you" and the old man wrapped the strip around Sebastian's head, covering his eyes and knotted it firmly at the back, between his ears. "Now give us your hand."

The old man opened a door and led Sebastian inside.

The sign on the door, as it clattered shut, said. "Gyroscopes."

Shuttle? Where does the Shuttle come in to it?

space laser , melt the ice caps. I figured on the monks replicating a cape canaveral type deal underground, firing the rocket up out of the volcano into space.

Ah right, now I see... so is this kind of a James Bond/Austin Powers moment?

You Only Live Twice / Moonraker - got it

I've got a bit of a busy this week so I've not done any more storytiming and probably won't until next week either. Just an FYI.

I'm trying to craft a new scene between Sreka and Annabell (to fill in for the missing Anna seqeunces) and to explain Sreka going to guard the gate (as Annabel's new personal Force Majeure.)

I'm setting it at the disposal of Vandeveer's Body into the Inferno of Mount Terror

I'm struggling though...might return to it tomorrow.

Did I say tomorrow?

Well anyway here is my attempt at the Arthur and X's arrival at Mount Terror plus the annabel and Sreka scene from before.

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A solemn prossession moved silently through rocky corridors, lit my lanterns carried on hooks were a troop of men, monks in low-slung hoods and bore aloft on a litter, the body of Reto Vandeveer. He was carried from The Inner Sanctum and through a network of tunnels and following the silent wake were Andrei Sreka and Annabel Smittington: recently installed Grand Master of The Cult of the Dying Pilchard.

"Your will is impressive cossack." Annabel feted him with admiration. "You strive to dominate like the gods of old. Few would have had the courage to do what you did."

"I do not suffer fools. Vandeveer was foolish. He tried to cross you."

"and you know better?"

"I do."

"and you swear your fealty to me?"

"Gladly."

A red glow began to iluminate Annabel as she passed from rocky outcrop to open chamber

"I think you shall thrive here, cossack."

A dimuinutive cultist head bowed low, approached The Grand Master.

"We are here Grand Master."

"Begin."

The Acolyte threw up his hands and giving a cry instructed the litter bearing Vandeveer be passed forward.

Sreka stood solemly against the rough rock arms clasped, head bowed

Annabel swooped forward, her robes fluttering on the super-heated updraft from below and walked out in front of the gathered monks and cultists. Her voice soared and echod in the vast chamber, just ebating the roar of the mountian itself.

"The passing of Reto Vandeveer shall mark the dawn of a new age in the Cult of The Dying Pilchard. Such a shame he did not live to see it. Let his earthly remians be consumed by the mountain - Throw him in!"

As if seen from above, Annabel was stood on the lip of a sheer rocky cliff face that stood high above a river of molten rock sliding past at incredible speed far beneath her. The lava tube from the active volcano was the heart of Alpha Complex - it was it's warmth that made the desolate wastes in Antartica habitable so far underground. The lava had come to be symolically associated with life and so also with death. There were no cemeteries in Alpha Base.

A lever was depressed, and a contraption tilted forward pushing the muslin wrapped corpse of Reto Vandeveer over the edge where he slid elegantly into open air and moments later dissappered into the streaming river below with a little whisp of flame.

As the cultists departed, Annabel paused alongside Sreka.

"Go up to the top level and keep a careful watch. Today will mark to start of the ascension of the Cult. Many of our teams are returning from operations out on the ice - we need to keep secure. I want an exact head-count."

"There were agents." Sreka said dolefully. "with us in the tunnel."

"What?" Annabel hissed.

"The were in the train crash with Daltmooreby."

Annabell paused to consider this.

"Alive or dead, in a few hours it won't matter, either way. The Cult of The Dying Pilchard has The Turqoise Moon now and nothing can stop us.

--------------------

Meanwhile, far above from the the cremation of Reto Vandeveer, in a large industrial themed docking area a man pressed his face urgently into a small portal window and peered outside. His eyes narrowed as he tried to focus into the distance.

The man's breath condensed instantly aginst the glass creating a small fog that crept up and down the window exabcerbating matters, which he scrbbed away vigourously. A fierce blizzard had arrived a short time ago and thick flakes of snow patted softly aginst the glass, making it next to impossible to see out into the gloom. Seemingly irregard of all this, he kept up his vigil.

Outside a glow appeared, yellow and flickering in the storm.

"I see something." he cried excitedly. "It's a light! Open the gate."

Above him on a high vantage point, a team of operators began to wind a huge winch which by means of a series of intricate cogs and pullies dragged open a hanger door the size of a largish bungalow, that retreated sideways into the mountainside.

As soon as the gate began to open the blizzard entered and the wind and snow blew in, causing men to hold the arms to their faces to shield the eyes, to shout instructions above the noise and some to hold on to heavy machinery to steady themselves.

Three horses entered at an unsteady canter. There were four riders, two on the last horse. The furry hoods of Alpha Complex branded artic gear were pulled down low over their faces

"Seal it shut!" a foreman screamed.

The door ground acrossways, as quickly as could be achieved, with each inch the strength of the blizzard decreased, until finally it was shut out once more with a decisive-sounding bang.

Figures emerged from around and behind machines to see the team who had emerged from the storm. It was not unheard of, but Antartic blizzards are ferocious and unforgiving. It is rare indeed for cultist to return if they are unlucky enough to be caught out in one. As such, a moment of minor celebrity had settled on the four returnees, still sat almost motionless of horseback.

A pious looking fellow approAched and took the reins of the first animal and stroking it's cheeks, looked up to the figure in the fuzzy cowl, hidden behind snow goggles.

"You are lucky to have made it back. Welcome home brother!" he said ernestly.

A clang on a metal gantry above, made the figure look up, as Andrei Sreka emerged from an elevator and surveyed the scene.

"Are you okay brother? - you have not yet spoken a word." the figure by the horse said, a note of genuine concern rising in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

The figure turned from Sreka to the man at his side. "The Dying Pilchard Bleeds under a Turqoise Moom." Arthur said, Praying to as many dieties simultaneously as he could remember that that would be enough to see them through this awkward bloody predicament.

X did not seem to share his partner's anxiety, and waved cheerily at the assembled brethren.
"All blessings on the magneeficent Pilchard!" he said heartily, in a pronounced foreign accent.
"Steady on, old boy," muttered Arthur. "We don't need to attract more..."
X interrupted him, speaking even louder.
"Greetings from the Latverian chapter of the Glorious Cult, here for the beeg event! I would like," he announced to the hangar at large, "to share my joy at our safe arrival with a heeem."
"What's that, brother? A heem?" inquired a guard, scratching the back of his head.
"A heem," explained X cheerfully. "Of mine own composeetion. I begin:
Oooooh, what a pilchard is our Pilchard...

Ooooh, how majestic his shiny little belly and goggling eyeeees..."
Arthur could only look on in frank admiration.

Sreka gave a look of vague disgust, and wandered back across the gantry towards the elevator. The singer's voice was like nails on a blackboard mixed with the screech of a pterodactyl, all served with a healthy helping of Weird Al Yankovic. Very disturbing.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, and wondered if the Cult of the Dying Pilchard permitted the use of aspirin.

Within thirty seconds X's display of over-zealous religious sentiment (not to mention his tone-deafness) had driven away all curious onlookers. Merely being in the same room with someone as enthusiastic as X was slightly embarrassing. Hearing him sing...well, there was a limit to what you would suffer for your god.

"Good job," admitted Ody.
"That was...incredible!" said Jamilia, unstrapping the saddle from her horse. She beamed at X, who waved a hand desperately.
"No, no. Psychology, is all. Please."
He looked up shyly.
"I also made up...a second verse?"
Arthur coughed loudly.
"Maybe after we face these fanatical hordes of Cultists and stop their doomsday plan...maybe then we can hear it, okay X?"
"Right."

Sreka had walked away indifferently and had got about halfway down a corridor that lead away from the hanger and the dreadful singing when something persistant in the back of his mind bothered him enough to bring him to an abrupt halt. He grabbed a passing cult figure by the lapel of a tunic and actually raised him off the floor by several inches.

"The Latvian Chapter?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"They..er...they arrived last month.", the man grinned hoping this was helpful.

Sreka dropped the man, whos knees collapsed under him, and the cultist watched bemused from the floor as the large man turned and ran back up the corridor. Sreka's heavy footfalls thudded on the mental gantry and he skidded out onto the walkway nearly colliding with the metal handrail.

He looked over the rim into the area below. The bustle of the place wafted upward as a throng. The four horses where still stood unnattended in the middle, but the riders were gone.

"Damn it!" Sreka shouted, and smacked his fist into the rail, which buckled.

He licked his lips, and considered his next move.

The Grand Master Annabel had ordered him to protect the gate - but only he knew that. He needed a solution - and just at that moment one arrived.

A door down below banged open, from his vantage point Sreka could see it opened onto some stairs stairs that led steeply down into the ground. Two monks emerged carrying a stretcher...and Freidrich Von Trapp.

Sreak backed away from the rail horrified.

Behind him another monk and then last to emerge came Shawn Daltmooreby.

In the shadows, Sreka's eyes flicked back and forth as he considered something.

A few moments later and Daltmooreby was in animated conversation with a monk as Sreka approached.

Shawn glanced him walking over from corner of his eye and had to be physically restrained from attacking him.

"GET OFF ME!" he hissed at the monks holding him back.

"That's the one...he..." Daltmooreby barked.

"That's The Grand Master's personal enforcer." whispered one.

"Personal enforcer?" Daltmooreby clucked through a strained smile and cocked his head. "Moving up the the world from turncoat assassin are we?"

"Shawn..." Sreka started to say.

Daltmooreby strained hard against the monks holding his arms back "I should kill you!!"

Sreka said "let go of him."

"What?" said the one of the monks at Daltmooreby's side with awed surprised.

"Let him go." Sreka repeated.

Daltmooreby had his arms released and stood upright. He took a moment to straighten his shirt collar and neatened his jacket cuffs, before wiping an errant strand of matted grey hair from across his brow and shuffling his wig back into a central location.

"You and Vandeveer!" he seethed.

"I killed Vandeveer." Sreka admitted

"What?"

"I was in his debt he was...ambitious but foolish. I am under his thumb no longer. It really was nothing personal."

"That's what this is about you wanted to say you're sorry?" Daltmoreby scoffed.

"No."

Daltmooreby beneath his rage could respect this.

"It's Robinson."

"He's *here*?" Daltmooreby snapped up, a cold look in his eyes.

"I think so."

Daltmooreby approached the Russian cautiously. "This ...thing between us. It still isn't settled."

"Later." The Russian growled.

"I get to kill him." Daltmooreby said placing an open palm on Sreka's chest in a friendly manner.

"That's the plan." Sreak said taking Daltmooreby hand by the wrist and placing it into his own to shake it.

The monks who were stood around in observerence of this odd ritual didn;t quite understand what was going on, but for Arthur, X, Ody and Jamilla this new union spelt 'trouble'.

I had an idea for what could come next - I'm going to work on it and post back here later....

Daltmooreby and Sreka walked side by side down the corridor that led from the hanger, deeper into Alpha Complex: neither trusted the other enough to have their back to them thus the enforced mutuality persisted in grim silence.

Eventually Daltmooreby suggested that they split up to cover more ground - an idea Sreka was suspicious of accepting but eventually relented.

Thus it was that Daltmooreby found himself on his own once more. Von Trapp had been whisked off to be treated by the apothecaries, and he had a meeting scheduled with this Grand Master figure.

'I still have the diamond' he thought a touch smugly and those who know are few indeed.

He turned a corner, a sign on the wall by the corner indicated he was heading towards the lab area. On his way he passed a door that had on it "Storage lvl 1."

------------------------
There were many varied iems in here: boxes of clothes, some tools here and there, a few disused pipes cuttings, a filing cabinet, some shelves with disinfectant and detergent, a mop and lots and lots of wooden crates

Inside, crouched low behind some stacked crates, Arthur, X, Ody and Jamila were hiding.

"Well we're inside." Ody said phlegmatically, "now what?"

"Well.." Arthur pondered aloud "we...er"

"I should have thought it was simple", Jamila cut in abruptly. "I gave Ody's father that diamond from the Temple in Egypt, having gone through everything we have - the very least I want to know why they want it so badly, and what they do once they realise the one I gave them is a dud."

"It was a dud?" Arthur asked.

"Didn't I mention that" Jamila said coyly, "I could have sworn...hmm.. anyway - well not a dud just one of the diamonds from the plinth network. The diamond they have is not flawless, no it bends light in a certain direction to create the light-latice that illuminated the cavern. It will be useless to them if they want to focus a beam exactly, of that I am quite certain."

"So what your suggesting is?" X enquired.

"I'm going to see what out there" Jamilla began hastily getting in a shawl she had found in a draped over a crate near where they were hiding "and don't you even think about trying to stop me.

"I..er..would never dream..." Arthur muttered.

"Good. Keep it that way." And to Ody's mild alarm and Arthur's considerable discomfort, she gave Arthur a quick peck on the side of his cheek.

"I shan't be long." she said and taking the shawl about her shoulders wrapped it over her arms, opened the door a little and peered out into the corridor, which was empty. After waiting to make sure the way was clear she slipped outside and closed the door with a click.

After a moment full of pause and quite reflection pause as if to process her tour de force negotiating. X turned to Ody full of inquisitiveness and asked "Is she always like that?"

"You have no idea", Ody said grimly in the way only bruised male machismo can manage.

-------------------------

Jamila walked was brazen confidence down a curved corridor lined with metal struts and cables. 'I wonder where they go?' she thought and began to follow them as they snaked their way deeper into the heart of Alpha Complex taking in all that there was to see.

There were many tunnels and intersections of corridors but she kept going straight following the cables, she had a feeling she was walking down in a spiral as the corridors were gently sloped.

Eventually the ceiling dissappeared and the tunnel opened out into a cavern of immense proporitions in which was contained on stratified layers that remindeed her of Peruvian Terrace farming writ large on a terrific scale. Above her criss-crossing this gigantic space were monorails in which carriages like roller-coaster buggies zipped across occasionally with a sound and commotion like fairground dodgems.

She carried on walking on a wide ledge that overlooked this bustling centre of commerce and civilisation that was the cult's civilian society. Eventually she rentered a new maze of corridors and continued to follow the thick black cables until they abruptly termiend in a bulkhead. She was about to give up and head back when something caught her eye.

It was a temporary sign that read "Viewing Platform VIPS and invited Guests."

She glanced about no-one was watching so she slipped under the fabric guard rail and ventured down this new corridor.

A short distance away this entered a box for dignitaries that resembled seats in a stadium. This area was overlooking another impressively huge hall - a hollow chamber inside the extinct volcano that stretched from one side of the conical dome to the other so far distant they were almost beyond sight.

Illuminated in the middle was something impossible.

It made Jamila's eyes water from staring and he jaw hung loose. She simply could not believe what she was seeing. It was almost beyond comprehension that something this unlikely could be here.

She had to show the others.

Just then a gruff voice from down the rows of seats called up to her: "Oi you aren't supposed to be here - clear off."

"I...er..." she stumbled and stuttered, "I...er...just wanted to see it."

"Yeah well come back and quese down there tomorrow like everyone else and you can see it from the public gallery - this ones reserved for dignatores and The Grand Master. Now sling thy hook before I losses me temper or me job!"

"Yes, yes, of course sorry, very sorry." she said backing away fast , colliding with the wall ushering another "sorry" and running back down the corridor she had come from.

Back across the bustling hub of the market square alive with the voices of people, back up the sloping corridors that wound it's way up to the surface, back and back further and further she ran until at last she recognised the level she had emerged onto originally, just aroudn this corner was storage room one and her friends.

She turned into the corridor and darted back around sharply, pressing her back into the cold wall, preying she hadn't been seen.

Daltmooreby was stood side-on to her, in the doorway of Storage lvl. 1, he was holding the revolver he'd hit Ody with, his armed crooked at the elbow gun held at out in front.

"Come out from there so I can see you all" He breyed in a gloatful manner and took a step inside.

She peered around. Good he hadn't seen her. She advanced toward the room a little further. She could hear him. "Such a shame Dr Najil couldn't be here - I regret what Mary did son, I really do."

"Go to hell." Ody barked.

"Arthur." She heard Daltmooreby say cordially.

"Shawn."

She peered round the door.

Daltmooreby had his back to her and lined in front of him where Ody and the two agents.

"and who are you?" Daltmooreby asked in a manner vaguely reminsicent of English Princes at public functions.

"I'm Arthur partner." X said.

"I don't suppse he told you that he murdered my wife, Junior's mother in cold blood. This man, your partner. He did that."

"Don't call me junior." Ody seethed.

Daltmooreby shuffled over to look his son in the eyes. "why ever not?" Daltmoorey sneered.

"*ahem*"

The cough was demure but polite. Daltmooreby turned. and Jamilla smacked him across the face with a heavy section of pipe cutting that had been leant aginst the inside of the door.

"Because his name is Ody." she said firmly and dropped the pipe at his feet and it landed with a resonant clang.

She took a few deep breaths and composed herself to address them. "There's something I think you all really ought to see." she said.


--------------------

Meanwhile in the hanger, a monk who kept a vigil by the window was staring at his feet not thinking about much in particular when a momvment outside caught his eye.

It was brief but it looked like a figure staggering through the snow and the gale.

"Raise the gate!" he shouted and the door ground open one more time emitting a terrible wind full of gusting balsts and drifts of snow

A emancipated figure caked in snow and ice, rigid from cold and shivvring, stumbled in and collapsed into the arms of those who raced to support him.

The gate slamed home with a loud bang and in the quiet the man's ragged, frozen breath ranged louder.

"I am k-k-k-k-Küld...o-o-o-o-o-thers sr...ar....arr.. d-d-d-d-d dead." hrrr ....hrrrrr... imposters...hrr....hrrr...r-r-aise....hr.....the ....alarm."

Somebody threw a blanket round him and a stretcher was procured and he was carried off to the apothecaries who would try to save what frostbite had not already claimed.

A deep red light enveloped the base and a wailing klaxon began to wind up as a general alert was triggered.

----------------

In her offices, Annabel heard the siren some way off and then it arrived in her quarters, she closed a file she was reading and took of some reading glasses and set them down.

She depressed a buzzer on her desk and her PA in the next room answered it. "Find the cossak!" Annabel snarled into the intercom.

"Yes Ma'am" came the reply.

---------------------

Sreka looked up as the light flashed red and the alarm sounded where he was.

"Damn." was all he could bring himself to utter.

--------------------

Arthur and X looked up in surprise as the alarm sounded as well. Jamila and Ody reappered from behind the crates which is where they had dragged Daltmooreby's unconscious body.

"Oh bugger." said Arthur, "There goes the element of surprise. Now they'll be looking for us."

*nudge*