Chronicles of Isambard Smith 05 - End of Empires Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    ‘Sometimes, you’ve just got to clean a man’s clock,’ Callarn growled. He turned back to his bike. ‘Keep out of trouble. And you...’ he added, pointing to Carveth, ‘Stay in school.’
    The motorbike roared away. ‘Well, men,’ Smith declared, ‘in the absence of competition, our opponents having fled the field, I declare us to be the winners of the Warro tournament. Jolly well done. Now let’s get the hell out of here.’
    * * *
    It was night on the John Pym . Gerald the hamster had been fed and the airlocks were sealed. Smith and Rhianna had retired to their rooms to sleep. Carveth had gone to her quarters, too: from the sounds of it, to use her electric toothbrush, Suruk decided.
    Taking his head away from Carveth’s door, Suruk felt satisfied that everyone was either sleeping or much too busy to interrupt. He walked down to the sitting room and turned on the television.
    ‘ The remarkable thing is ,’ said the television, ‘ the hotel was incredibly cheap. Yet all the staff wore old-fashioned clothes and spoke in a strange, antiquated way, and there was no electricity. And when I tried to find it again – it was gone! ’
    ‘ That’s because they were all ghosts! ’ another voice replied, and the tinkly music to Tales of the Fairly Predictable came on as the two characters gasped in moderate amazement.
    Suruk stepped to the rear of the set, opened the access panel, and pulled out one of the cogs. He reached into the back of his trousers and removed a bent and unwholesome coat hanger, which he jammed into the gap. Having not been electrocuted, he took a seat and watched as a snowstorm of fuzz swallowed the screen.
    A M’Lak appeared on the screen. He had a patch over one eye. ‘ Greetings, friends! ’ he growled. ‘ You join us once again for a night of the finest unlicensed orbital broadcasting, live from the Flying Ravnavarian . Later, we shall be playing some popular music at a speed of our choosing, but first, our historical drama: The Bloody Deeds of Grimdall the Rebel! Just as soon as I’ve put my costume on ,’ he added.
    Suruk made an approving croaking sound, and poured himself a gin and orange.
    The screen dimmed as the cast turned down the lights. For a moment, the camera seemed to track across a panoramic view of the Ravnavarian countryside: this was, in fact, the backdrop being pushed onto the stage. The lights came back up, and two M’Lak strode into view, wearing red jackets and large false moustaches. 
    ‘ What what?’ said the first . ‘Death to Grimdall the Rebel! May his blood gush in torrents for the Space Empire, don’tcha know? ’
    ‘ I say, not half ,’ the second replied. ‘ Soon Ravnavar shall belong to the Space Empire. More Pimms? ’
    ‘ One gathers that he has created a mechanical steed, with which to do battle. Does this not bother you, Carruthers? ’
    ‘ My dear fellow, soon we shall bring him doom! ’ said the second. ‘ Old sport. ’
    The backdrop fell over. Behind it, sword in hand, stood the announcer, who was now wearing a helmet. ‘ Death to you all! ’ he cried. ‘ For it is I, Grimdall himself! ’
    As the blades flashed and all hell broke loose, Suruk reflected that The Bloody Deeds of Grimdall the Rebel was a bit gauche for his tastes. The Hideous Doom of Vagnar the Smasher was a far more developed work.
    Humans really were funny little things, Suruk thought, opening his mandibles and sipping his gin and orange. For one thing, most of them actually thought that they had defeated the M’Lak, and recently they had started to debate whether they should be ruling Ravnavar at all. This was wrong. The war between the Space Empire and the M’Lak a hundred years before had ended in a stalemate; in return for fighting in the Empire’s most violent wars, the M’Lak were now permitted to fight in the Empire’s most violent wars, which was an obvious win for anyone like Suruk.
    Of course, the Space Empire needed the M’Lak if it was