There are some things one does for money. There are some things one does for love. There are some things one does for the chance to look cool and have a ball. For Mike, hanging upside down from the pipes in the darkened councillors' chamber, this job came under the last heading.
The Brit sometimes wondered when he was going to wake up from the insane dream he was having. Clamped between his teeth was the sort of technology that Bill Gates would have sold his own grandmother for, or at least his grandmother-in-law. Mike was having trouble with just keeping drool off it.
It was late in the evening, almost a week after Mike had discovered a bomb aboard the Red Home. The theory among the select few who knew of it was that the anti-Thayer councillors had arranged things so that the device had found its way into the ship. Mike, owner and mechanic of the Red Home, was particularly interested in finding out who had tampered with his pride and joy.
The select few, who were comprised of Terra Group and the founding members of the Mendellian Resistance, had turned almost as one to Mike when he had said he wanted revenge, or at least justice. Only Sci hadn't moved. He had sat still at one end of the table, tapping a stylus absently on his chin as he reviewed a list. Mike knew for a fact that the list was nothing more than a database of mp3 files stored on the hard drive of the X-Wing flown by Josh Cochran. Mike knew this as he'd overwritten Sci's notes with the list a few minutes before he meeting began.
It had been the work of a few seconds for Mike to be nominated to find out more about what the councillors were up to.
Besides, Mike mused, he did know the secret passages of the palace like the back of his hand.
"Since when did I have a scar there?" he muttered, staring at the back of his hand for a second.
The door to the chamber creaked open slowly. Mike tutted under his breath. These doors were never oiled, Thayer had made sure of that, and opening one slowly only drew further attention, as the creaking was elongated far beyond that which was truly necessary. Mike also knew of at least two ways into and out of the room that didn't involved using the door. For a second he was tempted to think kind thoughts of Eugor Atner, whose mad vision had seen the interior of the palace substantially redesigned. But he regained his senses and settled for cursing the long dead Dictator, putting the uncharacteristic flush of warm feelings down to having been hanging upside down for the last several minutes.
In the midst of thinking about the late Eugor, Mike had frozen, acutely aware that those now entering the chamber only had to look up and they would see him looking down on them. Another incidence of Terra Group meddling in Mendellia's internal affairs. Another datacard on Sci's desk. This despite the Major's implicit order to Mike.
"No more datacards. I already have a pile eight inches high from the last mission I gave you."
"He was a nasty little slimeball and deserved to be shot."
"He was seventeen and a councillors son."
"Who deserved to be shot."
"You could have handed him over to the proper authorities."
"He'd not have been punished by the proper authorities. I didn't shoot him, I thought that was mercy enough."
"No, you got him drunk and had insult the mothers of all the patrons of the Shrieking Virgin. He was lucky to get out alive."
"They're a boisterous bunch, but they don't mean to hurt anyone."
"We're not here to hand out beatings to people, even if we may think they deserve it."
"Which he did," Mike replied.
"In your opinion."
"Officer on the spot."
"He wasn't part of the mission."
"Begging your pardon, sir, but you wanted me to try and find out who was selling drugs to the kids at his school, and I did."
"It wasn't him, though," Sci pointed out.
"Well, no."
"It was one of the patrons of the Shrieking Virgin."
"Well, yes. I completed the mission, and sorted out his attitude. A double success."
"Indeed. I may have to promote you."
"Sure, and have me setting my own guidelines for my own missions. Be serious Sci. The guy was a nasty little greaseball who was picking on kids and girls. If I hadn't been on my way to the Shriek anyway then I would have knocked some sense into him. This way I stunned two mynocks with one ion pulse."
It was logic like that which had placed Mike in his current precarious predicament. Still, if he had to be discovered, hanging upside down, in the private discussion chambers of the Mendellian council, with enough bugs on him to start a lucrative sideline in fishing bait, at least he was dressed for it.
Dress uniform, as Mike had discovered, was one more reason to rebel against the militaristic formalities that the members of Terra Group were occasionally expected to observe. The basic uniform had been black, at least, with various trimmings, frogging and piping that had made the eyes of certain members of the group light up. Sci, however, had granted them a certain amount of latitude in personalising their uniform, latitude that Mike had taken full advantage of, plus all that was left over from the other Group members.
Mike had stripped the jacket to its basics, called in a few favours from Llessur Atner's Ladies in Waiting and had appeared at the first formal event in a replica of the uniform warn by the British infantry during the Napoleonic wars. The green coat fit snugly over his lean frame, and the boots added a touch of historic chic to the outfit that the more conventional members of Terra Group seemed to lack. Only Sci, who had also chosen to improve on his dress uniform, seemed unsurprised at his appearance.
And now it was time for the uniform to get its second airing. An unavoidable party for a children's charity that Thayer was backing, against council wishes. That alone would have been enough for Mike to attend, but there had been the small matter of the bachelor auction that Thayer had press-ganged him into, alongside Josh Cochran and some of Mendellia's other notable males.
For the moment, however, Mike was still hanging upside down over the steadily growing circle of councillors. Eventually, the meeting was brought to order when one of the councillors pounded on the table.
"My fellow Lords," he said, his voice identifying him as being younger than most of the councillors Mike had encountered. As quietly as he could, Mike resumed fitting the bugging equipment, working by touch as he watched the scene unfolding below. "Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of the party. Our initial plan has suffered a minor setback. We must move on to plan B."
"D'reve, be serious," replied an older voice. "We followed your advice, more out of respect to your father than to you we might add, and it has got us nowhere. I have half a mind to throw you out of this chamber now and ban your vote until your father returns from his trip to Monaco."
"I assure you," D'reve replied. "That would be a mistake. My father does not take kindly to the name of our family suffering any kind of besmirchment. You would o well to remember the last person who dared to tackle my father head on."
"Yes, as I remember, Eugor ruled this country for five years and would have continued to do so had his reach not exceeded his grasp. Very well, young D'reve, purely because you amuse me, you may give us your plan B."
D'reve drew himself up -Mike was reminded of a bullfrog preparing a particularly voluminous croak- and launched into a tirade against Thayer Atner, Terra Group, the loss of traditional values amongst modern Mendellians and the general lack of respect with which he was being treated.
Eventually, he ran out of steam, and muttered something about forcing a leadership challenge to Thayer.
"Under what precedent?" another councillor asked.
"Under the precedent of marriage," D'reve replied. "The least of our citizens know that Atner is the longest reigning Dictator, other than his uncle, that the island has ever seen. Proof, if proof were needed, that the Atner family has become bad for our people and ourselves."
There was a murmur around the table, and Mike could tell that the idea had caught their imaginations. Certainly Thayer had yet to marry, but it was hardly for want of offers. Only last week Thayer's own mother had left a copy of the Mendellian Who's Who on his desk, and Thayer had been grateful.
"Now I know who to avoid," he had been reported as saying, with a wide smile.
In the councillors' chamber, however, the wide smiles were reserved for those with malicious intent. Mike kept quiet, despite the blood pounding in his ears. He had only meant to be in the chamber a few minutes, but the meeting was dragging on, and he was already late for collecting his date for the evening. Slowly, the councillors calmed down, and after a period of back slapping over having settled on a new plan to throw their own country into turmoil, they departed in ones and twos. D'reve was the last to leave, the young man lingering for a minute, doubtless replaying the glorious moment when his seniors had been in the palm of his hand. Mike already disliked D' reve, and suspected the feeling would be mutual if he crashed down from the ceiling, a prospect that seemed increasingly likely with every moment D'reve lingered. Finally, the Mendellian departed, extinguishing the lights as he did so.
Cloaked once more by darkness, Mike scrambled into the passage through which he had entered.
Neh S'ics hadn't been very impressed by Mike's lateness, but upon discovery that he had been carrying out a mission for Terra Group, she forgave him instantly. She begged him for details all the way to the gala, until Mike finally gave in and gave her a highly abbreviated version of the night's events.
Sighing happily, she took his hand as she stepped from the car, waving graciously to the flashing cameras of the Mendellian paparazzi. Mike, for his part, faded into the background, happy for the cameras to be focussed on his date and not him.
Eventually, Mike tore the Lady in Waiting away from the press, and offered his arm to take her into the plush hotel that was the scene for the night's event. Once announced, the pair proceeded down the steps and onto the main floor of the hotel lobby. Tonight, the reception desk had been pressed into service as a makeshift bar, the sweeping staircases on either side encircling the lobby in a welcoming embrace.
"Mike!" Thayer said, coming forward from the throng. "I am pleased you could make it."
"I am sorry for our lateness, Lord Thayer," Mike replied, sketching a short bow. "Duty is duty, even on such a night as this."
"I understand," Thayer replied, nodding slightly. "But now you are free of duty, and I would hope you will avail yourself of the entertainment laid on."
"We shall, milord," Mike replied. "Although I'll try not to be too drunk when the auction begins. I have to go for a better price than Josh does."
"Of course, my friend," Thayer laughed. "Enjoy yourself, and you as well, Lady S'ics," he added, making the Lady in Waiting blush. Once the future King had walked away, Neh gasped out a breath she seemed to have been holding since entering the room.
"Stars above, that man is simply divine," she said. Mike grinned.
"And off limits. His fiancée is divine, too, or at least doubly blessed by her parentage. What price nobility when Thayer's intended is from a holy man descended?"
"And yet. . . No, you are right. Lord Thayer is happy in his choice, so I wouldn't even dare attempt to interfere."
"A wise decision. No doubt you have had friends who have tried?"
"One or two. They speak most vehemently of the Dictator's views on marriage to a lady of his mothers choosing."
"I have heard Thayer speak most vehemently as well. You may wish to warn any of your colleagues whom Lady Atner is considering sending to his side, if not yet his bedchamber. Lord Atner is very much betrothed, and should indeed be wed ere these twelve months are out," Mike declaimed, shamelessly aping the formal chatter being traded by the nobles who filled the room. Why they so often felt the need to revert to poor quality Elizabethan dialogue when placed together was a mystery Mike couldn't fathom.
"Trying to sideline the competition, Mike?" a familiar voice asked. "And I thought you didn't need help to impress the ladies."
Mike grinned as Noreh S'ytsirk stepped out of the cluster of nobles to his right.
"Ah, Noreh, no. . . Just explaining to Neh why she is right in not chasing our Dictator."
"I see. . ." the blond pilot replied. She walked around Neh, looking the Lady in Waiting up and down. "Neh, I am so jealous," she said. "I wish I could carry off a formal gown with your poise, but it is just beyond me. I feel so uncomfortable in these things."
"Lieutenant S'ytsirk," Neh replied. "Your choice of flightsuit over evening gown is hardly one you regret. All the ladies of my age know this. Many even wish they could follow your example, but lack your courage. Could I convince you to join my fellow Ladies and myself for a light lunch one day this week? We would all be most interested in hearing how you have managed to survive in such a male-oriented world."
Mike choked back a laugh as Noreh reeled from the charm onslaught. He was very fond of his pilot friend, but she did have a tendency to assume that all noble born members of Mendellian society were worthless and brainless. While she was mostly correct in this assumption, it was nice to be around when she was proven wrong. With a wink at Noreh, he stepped between the two and smiled at Neh.
"Noreh will be delighted to join you all, when her duties permit," he said. "I believe she is free on Thursday evening."
"We were going to work on your ship," Noreh said, recovering a little.
"It can wait," Mike replied. "You don't take enough time to appreciate what you have, old friend. Allow Neh and her friends to treat you to dinner. You can be a role model," he threw in, teasingly.
"Very well," Noreh replied, a shade frostily. "I'd be delighted," she said to Neh. "Next Thursday? I'll leave you and Lieutenant Clark to decide on the details."
With that, she walked off, heading towards a brunette woman Mike didn't recognise. He squinted after his friend, before something big and black moved in front of him
"Gah!" Mike barked, taking a half step backwards. "Don't *do* that, Josh," he added.
"Sorry, Mike," the tall Jedi replied, smiling down at his friend and colleague. "I forget you scare easily."
Mike grunted, brushing at a speck of dust on his jacket. He nodded at Brad as the Australian passed by on his way to the buffet, apparently ignoring the minor noble who was trying to attract his attention.
"You know Neh S'ics, I hope," Mike said. She stepped forward, and Josh bowed low over her hand, his lips stopping a millimetre short of touching her glove. She smiled. Mike kept his face impassive.
"Only by reputation," Josh said, straightening up. It took a long time, as he was very tall. "You brother Anaugi is a fine flyer, one of the best in my class. I think he is the elder of the two of you?"
"By ten months, yes," Neh replied. "We have always been very close. He speaks highly of you, Lieutenant Cochran."
"Really? You must tell me exactly what he says. So often when I fly against him, he swears more than compliments. . ."
Josh and Neh wandered off, leaving Mike alone for a fraction of a second.
"There was no need for you to send in the Jedi," he said.
"I didn't," Sci replied, stepping out of a large crowd of minor nobles. "I believe the sense of competitiveness you share drove him to steal your date for the evening."
"He's welcome to her," Mike said. "She's in the know regarding Thayer now, which is about as much as I expect from a date with one of Llessur's Lovelies. Oh, that reminds me. . ."
Sci looked at him, inscrutably.
"Um, plot," Mike said, taking a glass of orange juice from a passing waiter. "Depose Thayer because he's not married, put a married candidate in his place, rule Mendellia from the council chamber." He sipped the juice. "Something like that."
Sci looked at him, the hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. "Sometimes I think you come up with this stuff just to justify your expenses."
"I don't claim expenses," Mike said, coughing into one hand before sipping his drink again. "I just sell stuff from our shipments on the black market. Don't you remember agreeing to that when I took you to the Shrieking Virgin last time?"
"I remember having to get you and Nick out of a barfight last time we went there," Sci replied.
"My mistake," Mike grinned. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about how we distribute the shipments that are coming in. . ."
"Later," Sci replied, taking the glass from Mike's hand. He looked at it suspiciously, before glancing up at Mike. The Lieutenant raised his hands, palms open and empty. Sci raised an eyebrow, but sipped the juice.
"I assume you have a plan to deal with the plot," he said. Mike coughed into his hand again, before pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and coughing more loudly into it.
"I'm okay," he said, waving Sci away. "The orange juice went down the wrong way. Um, yes, I do have a plan for the plot. It may involve me embarrassing a few notable people. But I think they'll take it in good spirit."
Sci stared at Mike, who stared right back. The two colleagues held each other gaze for a prolonged period, before Mike took a new drink from another passing waiter. He toasted Sci, and watched as his commanding officer finished the orange juice. Then, with a grin hidden by his own glass, he sipped at the new drink.
"Well, you're approved," Sci said. "Just remember. . ."
"I know," Mike said, waving to Vickie and Rich Boyd as they waltzed past. "No more datacards."
Mike took the podium as Josh Cochran left, having been sold off for a sizable fee to a matronly minor noble who took possession of her purchase with an eager glint in her eye. Mike grinned as he watched his friend being seized and steered away from the crowd to one of the more secluded corners of the grand hall.
"Before we begin, I'd like to make a pair of very special announcements. Firstly, Lieutenant Cochran, the lamp post of an lieutenant who you just saw auctioned off, will be matching the winning bid on our next bachelor, Dar for Dar."
There was a warm round of applause for Josh's unknowing generosity. Mike smiled, and then unveiled his second surprise. "Secondly, before I consent to be owned by one of Mendellia's many beautiful ladies, I'd like to offer you all a bonus chance, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to own a senior officer. Please welcome on stage Major Scifantasy!"
The applause that greeted Sci's appearance tailed off quickly as the Major stumbled up the steps in a manner most unlike his usual assured self. He staggered across the stage and waved merrily to Mike and the auctioneer, knocking his own hat off with a too vigorous sweep of his arm.
"It would appear that the Major has fortified himself with a little Dutch courage," Mike said. "However, I am well aware of the brand he has indulged in, and can assure you all that the effects are entirely temporary. In fact, he should be sober and functional again in a little over half an hour."
With that, he drew a small bottle of tablets from his pocket, and held it up for everyone to see.
"I assure you that the Major is usually excellent company," Mike carried on, while Sci attempted to grab one of the microphones. He was held back by the auctioneer, to whom Mike now turned.
"Sir, if you please, I'd like to conduct this sale myself."
The auctioneer looked a trifle frantic, but nodded as Sci made a fresh break for freedom. Mike smiled again as he turned back to the microphone.
"Now then, noble ladies of Mendellia. I assure you once more that the Major is normally excellent company, and that I spiked his drink tonight purely for a cheap laugh at tomorrow's briefing. Now, in his intoxicated state, the Major here would be much easier to convince to share the secrets of Terra Group, which I know that quite a few among you are eager to discover."
An interested whisper sussurated its way around the room, and Mike noticed with professional distaste that a number of the Mendellian councillors openly stepped forward to consult their wives. With that on his mind, he opened the bidding high.
"So, ladies and gentlemen, shall we start at a thousand Dars? Remember, Lt. Cochran will be matching the bid, so go high, folks. Ah, our first bid, thank you miss. One thousand. Do I hear twelve hundred. Twelve, thirteen we have, thank you. Do I hear fourteen? Fourteen? Fourteen! Fourteen hundred Dars. We can manage more than that, I'm sure. Fourteen, do I hear fifteen? I have fifteen. The Major will be delighted that he is so highly valued, but I know that we can do better. Now, do I hear sixteen. . ?"
Eventually, Sci was auctioned off at two thousand, eight hundred Dars. He was beginning to sober up as he walked unsteadily down the steps, but he was still drunk enough to trip at the bottom and crash head first into his buyers chest. Yad Ecin, a Councillor from one of the smaller Mendellian towns, exhaled sharply as he staggered backwards, the rolls of flabby flesh that covered his body protecting him from serious injury.
Mike coughed, returning the attention of the amused crowd -for even among his colleagues Ecin was not popular- to the podium.
"And now the moment for which you have all been waiting," he announced. "Me. Dig deep girls. You all know I'm worth it."
In the end, Mike was worth it. He was bought up by the females of the Mendellian Royal Air Force to serve alongside Reth Nivag and Anaugi S'ics at their annual dinner. The girls matched the money that the middle aged noblewoman had paid for Josh Cochran, but at the end of the evening, Sci had undoubtedly been sold for the most money.
Sci had also probably had the most enjoyable evening as well, having been left completely unaware of the effects of Mike's tablets. He had, to his mind, spent his time twisting Yad Ecin into a much-tangled knot of lies, half-lies and untruths, occasionally spicing the mixture with a truth so improbable that Ecin dismissed it more readily than anything else the Major said.
Vickie and Rich had spent the evening dancing, the couple having pirouetted around the floor with the grace of long practise but which Mike suspected was Force influenced. Nevertheless, it had enabled Vickie and her husband to be tentatively approached with a view to broadening their social circle. Mike knew that Sci wanted his officers to be able to move as freely as possible among Mendellian society so that they could fulfil their secondary mission of keeping Mendellia stable. He suspected that Vickie would be in line for some serious brownie points come the following morning's briefing. That is, if Sci's antics at the auction podium were allowed to pass before he threw them all out of his office.
Josh Cochran had abandoned Neh S'ics after only a few minutes, long before he had been required for his part in the auction. Mike grinned at the thought of his teammate being forced to sit through Neh's breathless pro-feminist rhetoric. Mike didn't know for sure, but he suspected that Cochran had given her brand of philosophy short shrift. That Neh was an aggressive feminist and something of a bimbo, while at the same time being surprisingly intelligent and very easy to talk to was probably a series of contradictions that had annoyed Josh as much as it had Mike.
Brad had eventually given up on the pretence of sociability and wandered away from the gala event. Mike wondered briefly where the Australian had gone to, but supposed that he was in the hangar, working on his ship.
Mike himself was heading home. His knees were aching from hanging upside down for so long, and he was due a long bath and a long sleep.
The next day dawned bright and early, Vickie assured Mike as he schlepped up to the trio of Terra Group agents at ten minutes after eight the next morning. Looking around, he was pleased to note that Sci was every bit as late as he. Later, in fact, as the Major was normally at his desk by half past seven.
Eventually, Sci showed up, looking distinctly hung over. Mike grinned at the other three, all of whom seemed to be aware of what he had done to Sci's drink the night before. Sci may only have been briefly drunk at the gala, but he was suffering greatly now.
"Report," he croaked, as he dropped into his chair. Mike noted that he left the blinds down and the lights off.
"I may be able to mingle more freely in Mendellian society," Vickie said, recounting her tale of the night before.
"Mike has terrible taste in dates, and he cheated me out of a months pay," Josh said, without much rancour.
"My ship is nearing completion," Brad said.
"I'm meeting with Thayer to try and throw off this plot before it gains momentum," Mike said.
"Right. Mike? I know it was you. You're duty officer for the rest of the day. I'm going back to bed. You'll be getting all the calls routed to you. Now everyone get out."
"You heard the man!" Mike said loudly. "Up up up! Out out out!" He clapped his hands loudly to emphasise his words, before slamming the door as he left.
"So, you are of the opinion that this will work?" Thayer asked, carrying one of the bags that Mike had brought with him to the meeting.
"Absolutely," Mike replied. "I saw it on Scooby-Doo one time."
"What greater proof could one man require? I imagine the councillors will argue it is proof gained under duress, of course."
"Only an issue if we're taking this to court, which we're not. Unless it's a kangaroo court. Like boxing kangaroos, and we just set the councillors up in the middle of them and let them try and fight their way out."
"Tempting."
"Hard to get kangaroos in Mendellia, though. Even harder to train them."
"A plan for the future, perhaps. You are certain the bugs will work?" Thayer asked.
"Yep. They're set to transmit on certain words, and only on the chairs in question. Fenya did us proud with the electronics. Short notice, too."
"Why do you think I made him chief armourer? He is never happier than when working with machinery."
"And if everyone could do the job they loved. . ." Mike mused.
"As you do, lieutenant?"
"Yeah, well, make me an NCO and I'd be happier, but Sci's stubborn, so I have to try harder."
"Which, of course, merely makes him all the more stubborn, which in turn makes you try all the harder. I could quite understand his apparent turning to drink last night, if I didn't know that he was turned to it by some other factor."
Mike only grinned, and pulled open the door to the council chamber. It squeaked for the barest fraction of a second as it moved rapidly from shut to open.
The councillors convened once more, an hour before they were required to meet with Dictator Atner. One or two commented on the blush new cushions, but it was generally accepted that, being the magnificent people they were, that they fully deserved such comforts.
Yad Ecin gave a bumbling account of his interview with Sci the night before, in which he further twisted the tangled concoction of lies that the Major had fed him. He was shouted down after a few minutes, and returned to his seat, where he started scratching irritably at his face.
Laine D'reve stood, and gave a full set of guidelines for the carrying out of the new plot. The briefing met with general approval, and he sat down. Despite his new cushion, however, he seemed unable to make himself comfortable, and squirmed through the remained of the meeting.
A councillor from Beagle City stood, and savaged the character of Thayer. Always a popular topic, the unwarranted extravagance of the previous night -paid for from the Council's own decorating budget- seemed to have touched a nerve with many of the speaker's fellow councillors.
The pattern continued for the next forty-five minutes. Each speaker spoke derogatorily of Thayer, or backed the latest plot, or simply spoke in a priggish and bigoted manner. Each speaker, upon returning to their newly cushioned chair, was discomforted in some way. The meeting was cut short so that many councillors could hobble, limp or sidle to the bathroom.
As the last councillor departed, a cleaner entered, clad in a baggy overall and a baseball cap. As the door creaked shut behind him, he pulled off the cap and Mike grinned. He pressed a button on a small remote device attached to his broom handle, and a high pitched whining that was right on the edge of hearing cut out.
Mike moved from chair to chair, using a dustbuster to clean up the dust that Fenya's devices had emitted, dust that promised to make Thayer's current meeting with the councillors quite the most interesting one in a long, long time. Mike was glad of the bugs he had planted in the main Council area. He suspected he was going to enjoy watching today's debate many, many times.
Mike sat in Sci's chair, a horribly smelly cigar burning slowly in a spare coffee cup, his feet on Sci's desk. Sci's files had been slightly re-ordered in such a way as to make finding anything a little vexing, rather than simply impossible. That wouldn't have taken any skill at all.
Mike clicked on the holoplayer as he took a sip of tea from Sci's own coffee cup. He wound the recording to the point where Thayer referred to Laine D'reve as 'a pain in the arse', while simultaneously offering his esteemed colleague a tube of pile cream. It was Mike's favourite bit.
Mike relaxed, and looked around the office.
He could get used to this.
Click for the pic of my dress uniform