Free God Emperor of Didcot by Toby Frost Page A

unpleasant ignited behind his eyes. ‘I’ve got some orders of my own, too. I’m going to have me some fun here.’ He looked around, squinting. ‘This place stinks. You give me the word, 462, and I’ll smash these people up. Between you and me,’ he added, leaning closer, ‘I’m thinking of skipping out the sissy medieval stage and getting Ancient Greek on their asses instead.’
    ‘And I would enjoy watching you tell them so,’ 462 replied. ‘Sadly, you must refrain from being Ancient Greek to any arse. This planet is under the control of the Ghast Empire, and as yet I have no orders to permit you to conduct a reign of mindless terrorism. Never fear: they shall come through soon. And then, you will have your fun: the wretched citizens of this planet will enjoy no more habeas corpus .’
    Gilead grinned. ‘Reckon I might get me some of that, too. Dirty English women. Unbelievers are all sluts.’
    At the edge of Gilead’s vision, a Ghast reconnaissance skimmer darted onto the tarmac. It shot across the landing field, headlight weaving like a drunken firefly as it slipped between the legs of the spaceships and halted beside the command ship. The pilot, a drone, climbed down and ran to speak with one of the praetorians.
    ‘What’s that?’ Gilead demanded.
    ‘A messenger.’ 462 beckoned to the pilot, and it ran over and saluted him.
    ‘ Ak! Flak krak Britak ak-ak! ’
    ‘What the hell?’ Gilead said.
    462 smiled as much as his scars would allow. ‘Good news. Our heavy guns have defeated the human anti-aircraft batteries. Speak the rest so Captain Gilead can understand it, drone.’
    ‘I obey!’ The drone saluted again. ‘Human Isambard Smith and the Vorl woman have escaped and their location is unknown!’
    462 did nothing for a couple of seconds. ‘Unknown,’ he said.
    The messenger nodded. ‘Unknown! I am informed that our attack was swift and ruthless, intended to utterly crush all resistance. Drones like myself were used for their disposability, and the human scum were taken by surprise, but—’
    462 nodded to one of the praetorians. It leaned forward, and, like a groundsman snipping away an unsightly branch, bit the pilot’s head off.
    ‘Dinner is served,’ 462 said. ‘This is unfortunate news, Gilead. Most unfortunate. I want them found!’ He pulled his trenchcoat tight around him, turned and marched away. ‘Found!’
    *
    Once they were out of the city, they stopped to allow Rhianna to get changed. Smith leaned against the car and looked back at the burning city. Great floodlights roved over the buildings, shining from the landing-ships. Capital City belonged to the Ghast Empire now, as did the whole of Urn.
    Carveth stood next to him. The night air was warm.
    ‘Guess we’re not going home just yet,’ she said.
    ‘We will,’ Smith replied. His voice was grim. ‘I promise.’
    ‘Gaze upon me!’ a squeaky voice said behind them.
    They looked around: Suruk had put the praetorian’s head on the roof of the car and was working its mouth like a puppeteer. ‘I boasted of being a great warrior, and now I sit on the mantelpiece of Suruk the Slayer! Look upon me and despair, for once I was mighty and now I am a paperweight!’
    ‘Do you have to do that?’ Carveth said wearily. ‘All that severed head stuff. Doesn’t it strike you as kind of morbid?’
    Suruk shrugged. ‘No, it is fun. Besides, you are lucky it is just heads I take. When I was a young brave I used to completely dismember my enemies. However Mazuran here disliked having all their members lying around.’
    Smith watched the fires in the city, watched the wads of light on the alien ships that hovered over it. Very faintly, he could hear the sound of one of Number One’s speeches blaring from one of the spacecraft. Somewhere in the darkness, a dog howled. Rhianna was pulling a kaftan over her gymslip. She dropped the kaftan and bent over to pick it up.
    ‘You know, Carveth,’ Smith said, ‘I don’t think I shall