Cargo Cult (47 page)

-oOo-

Chuwar turned to his aide, Werpot,
and said, “Are we there yet?”

The N'oid twitched. He looked at
the great ugly brute he served with eyes that were barely sane and
a small tortured whine came from deep inside him. He couldn't take
it. That was the last, the absolute last time, he could hear those
words. But he knew it would only be minutes before Chuwar asked
again. The warlord must die. Werpot, small, frail, feeble Werpot
must tear the brute's throat out with his own little teeth.

But first he must explain to the
great stupid oaf, how he had doomed himself. “Are we there yet?”
Werpot asked. “Are we there yet?” He shook with rage, his flaky
skin trembling like a bouquet of black leaves in a breeze. “Look at
the viewscreen? Go on, look at it?”

“What viewscreen?”

Werpot screeched with frustration.
“The one on the navigation console! The one I've been telling you
about ever since we left To'egh. The one right in front of your
fat, ugly face.”

Chuwar frowned. He seemed to sense
that something was not quite right with his vizier. “That one?” he
asked, pointing at the display. “The one with the picture of a
pretty blue planet with fluffy white swirls of cloud?”

“Yes!” shouted the N'oid. “That
one! What?”

He rushed round to see display for
himself. And there it was, their destination. The Vinggan ship was
represented by a little blinking light on one of the land-masses.
Even as he watched, the planet grew larger in the viewscreen. “Oh,
for the love of skincream!”

He walked over to the wall and
banged his head on it several times. It made him feel a little
better, a little dizzy too, but it gave him back enough
self-control to say, “Yes. Yes, Your Magnificence, we're
there.”

-oOo-

General Treasure and his entourage
bustled into the Air Base Command Post. It was not a large room and
was starting to feel a little crowded. Treasure scowled at the
people there, all standing to attention, and gave them a cursory
salute. “Who are all these people, Braby?” he asked.

Braby began the introductions with
Group Captain Aspen and worked his way down to the base Chaplain, a
slight young man who smiled and flinched simultaneously when his
name was mentioned.

“Right,” said Treasure. “Everybody
out except Aspen, SECO, BASO, and my people. On the double!”

There was a small commotion as
people squeezed past people to get out. Treasure worked his way to
a seat. “A Chaplain, Braby? Are things that bad?”

“Standing orders, sir,” Braby said.
He was quite aware that Treasure knew this. “We should probably
call the Legal Officer back in.”

“What bloody good would that do? I
don't think our alien friends have signed the Geneva Convention.
Sorry, mate, there's no way a lawyer's going to keep your arse
covered on this one.”

“What about the pollies?” Braby
asked. “I'd like some sort of legal authority for any actions we
take here.”

“Can't reach the buggers. The Prime
Minister and her Merry Men all ducked into the bunker in Canberra
and there seems to have been some sort of technical problem. No one
can contact them and no one can get the door open to find out why.
We're on our own, Barney. What's the status?”

“Braxx, their leader, is on her way
up here with a dozen others. She'll be here in a sec. She seems to
think she's in charge now. Wants to talk to you.”

“Big ship,” said Treasure. “But
it's the only one as far as I know. Any specific threats?”

“None. We've got a squadron of
Super Hornets coming in from a training run. Limited armaments.
There's an Adgee unit on the base, somewhere – I hope – comms are
down – and a lot more stuff on its way from elsewhere.” He waved a
hand at the situation reports on the intelligence screens. “Details
are all there, for what it's worth. Fact is, we've got bugger all
to threaten them with if it comes to it, and they've got that.” He
glanced out the window.

Treasure drew a deep breath. “All
right, what do they want to talk about?”

They heard the sound of marching
feet in the corridor outside. “I think we're about to find out,”
Braby said.

There was a knock at the door and
Sergeant Cooper opened it. She had no time to speak before a
beautiful woman in a wedding dress shoved her aside and walked
in.

“Where is the treasure?” Braxx
demanded, looking around the room. “Is it here?”

General Treasure rose to his feet
as many more identical women pushed their way into the room. Braby
stepped froward. “I am Air Commodore Braby, and this is General
Treasure.”

“What?” asked Braxx. “Where?”

“Here, Madam. Welcome to Earth. On
behalf of the Australian Gov-”

“Who are you?” Braxx demanded.

Treasure eyed the woman
speculatively. She did not seem especially interested in who he
was, or, indeed, anyone else in the room, but she was looking for
something and so were all her companions. He tried again.

“I am General Treasure and, on
behalf of the Aust-”

“What?” Braxx was clearly growing
irritated.

“It says it's the treasure,” said
one of the other women.

“It can't be the treasure,” said
Braxx. “Can it? I was expecting a big vault, you know, all shiny
metal and one of those big wheels on the front.”

“Perhaps it's like one of those
novelty robot things,” one of the women said, stepping close to the
general to inspect him. “The kind they have at VinggWorld. You can
ask it any question you like and it always knows the answer.”

Braxx approached the general too.
“What's the square root of twenty-one billion?” he asked.

“No, ask it something harder,” said
the other woman. “When did the Great Spirit first reveal Herself to
the Overoms of Troggar 3?”

The general stepped back a pace.
“There seems to be some kind of misunderstanding,” he said,
somewhat unnerved by having the two women peering so closely at
him. “I'm not a novelty robot. I don't know why you'd think I was.
I'm a human being. A leader in my country's military
establishment.”

“So you don't even know the square
root of twenty-one billion?”

“Er, no. Is it important? We've got
computers if you'd like someone to work it out.”

“Why would it be important?” Braxx
asked.

“I don't bloody know! You're the
ones who brought it up.” He caught the look Braby gave him and made
an effort to get a grip of himself. This was not at all how he had
expected first contact with an alien race to proceed. He tried to
get the conversation back on track.

“Perhaps you could introduce
yourselves? There has been a great deal of speculation here on
Earth about who you are and where you come from, why you're here
and why you all look the same.”

“It's you lot that all look the
same,” said one of the women.

“It must be terribly hard to know
who is who in Amberley since they all wear the same colours,” said
another.

“It must be why they all have their
names written on their clothing,” said another and Braxx peered
closely at the general's name tag.

“Do you suppose it really does say
'The Treasure' on its badge?” he wondered, the translation field
being unable to help him.

“I am the Treasure!” the general
snapped. “I mean -”

“This is a waste of time,” said
Braxx. “They're all as mad as each other. I don't know if the poor
deluded creatures have any idea of what they're doing or saying
half the time.” He looked around the room and said, loudly,
“Humans, please try to concentrate. We want the treasure. We know
it is here. Just show us where it is so we can take it and
leave.”

The general was at last beginning
to understand what was going on.

“You've come here looking for a
treasure,” he said.

“Oh hooray,” said Braxx. “I'm
finally getting through.”

“But we don't have any treasure.
This is a military base. All we have here are, well, planes and
airmen.”

“Nonsense. Now come on, try to keep
your thoughts straight for just a little while. You do have the
treasure. It's here somewhere, shielded perhaps, but you know where
it is. You just have to concentrate and it will come to you.”

The general, for the first time
since Braxx turned up, was seriously concerned. The aliens were
apparently treasure-hunters of some sort, renegade, Indiana Jones
types. It even made sense of their appearance – like bank robbers
wearing celebrity masks. They were not representatives of an alien
government, but desperadoes who could turn ugly at any moment if
they didn't get what they wanted.

“Oh, the treasure,” he said,
feigning revelation. “Braby, it's the treasure they want. Not me at
all.”

“Er, right, sir. That makes more
sense.”

“It certainly does. Unfortunately,
ladies, you have been misinformed. As a rule, we humans don't keep
our treasure on air force bases. We keep it in other places, like
banks, museums, sea beds, you know, the usual kinds of places.”

“That's right,” said Braby, joining
in. “You should be looking in Europe, or the Middle East. Australia
just isn't a treasure-y kind of place. Can't think of a single
treasure between here and Perth, to be honest.”

“Of course,” said Treasure, “if
it's a lost treasure you're after, then Africa's probably your best
bet, or South-East Asia. Jungle-y, places where things like that
get lost regularly.”

“Or, if it's buried treasure you
want,” Braby added, “you couldn't do better than digging about in
the South Pacific islands. Thousands of the buggers, all just
crying out to be excavated.”

Braxx looked from one to the other
and waited for them to stop talking. “The treasure is here at
Amberley,” he said. “Bring it to me now or I will blast this entire
collection of huts to the ground and find it for myself.”

A tense silence fell on the room.
“Group Captain Aspen,” Treasure said, calmly. “Would you ask the
escort detail to step inside please?”

“Er, yes, sir. All of them,
sir?”

“Yes, please.”

Aspen went to fetch Sergeant Cooper
and her twelve airmen into the already-crowded room. Braxx watched
with smug satisfaction, clearly feeling he had finally made his
point. One by one the airmen squeezed themselves in around the
aliens. When they were all inside, General Treasure addressed
them.

“Escort detail, draw your weapons
and take these ladies into custody.” The escort mostly responded by
looking baffled and turning to look at one another and the sergeant
for confirmation that they'd heard correctly.

“You heard the officer!” Cooper
shouted, and twelve pistols were raised and pointed at Braxx and
his companions before everyone's eardrums had stopped ringing.

Drukk's first plan had been to lead
the humans to safety across the field beyond the spaceship.
However, as soon as they started heading that way, he noticed a
high chain-link fence at the other side, stretching as far as he
could see in both directions. He stopped and the humans stopped
too.

Wayne ran up to him. “Shouldn't we,
like, keep going, or something?” He looked back at the ship,
towering above them.

Even as he spoke, something odd
happened. A large number of armoured personnel carriers came from
the other side of the fence and drove straight into it. The first
couple of vehicles got caught in the fence and several others piled
into the back of them. Soldiers jumped out of the vehicles and
began running back and forth and shouting at one another.

Wayne and Drukk and all the human
escapees, watched in stunned silence as the drama played itself out
beyond the distant fence.

“Why did they do that?” Drukk
asked.

Wayne shrugged. “That's a tough
fence.”

“They were expecting there to be a
crash gate in it,” Barraclough said. “Sometimes they deliberately
build weak spots into fences like that so that emergency vehicles
can get through without having to go all the way round.”

“Looks like somebody stuffed up,”
said John coming to join them. “Oh, hang on.”

One of the soldiers had detached
himself from the shouting mob by the damaged vehicles and had run
along the fence. Now he was shouting and waving his hands. Finally,
the others noticed him and he began pointing at the fence where he
stood.

“Looks like they've found the real
crash gate,” John said. The soldiers stopped shouting at one
another and climbed back into their vehicles. Engines roared and a
chaotic reversal of the column got underway.

Barraclough shook his head. “I
wouldn't like to be the contractor who cocked that one up.”

“Guys,” Wayne said. “Shouldn't we
be, like, running for our lives, or something?”

“No need for that, lad,” said one
of the oldies, pride ringing in his voice. “That's the cavalry,
that is.”

“And they're about to re-enact the
charge of the Light Brigade,” Sam said. “Wayne's right, for once.
We should get out of here. As soon as those bozos get within firing
range, they'll be blown to pieces by our lovely Vinggan friends. No
offence, Drukk, but that's what you might call The Vinggan Way as
far as I can tell.”

“Destroying the bozos is a logical
move,” Drukk agreed, “but hardly necessary.”

Barraclough took charge. “Right
then. Let's see if we can make it into the air base.”

“But Braxx went that way,” said
Drukk, clearly more concerned about his spiritual leader shooting
them, than the human soldiers.

There was a loud crack from the
perimeter fence as the Bushmasters burst through the crash
gates.

“Come on,” Barraclough shouted and
set off at a run. “We don't want to be here when the shooting
starts.”

A few of the old gardeners stayed
behind to cheer their would-be rescuers, but Wayne set off after
Barraclough, along with most of the others. As he sprinted past the
space ship's ramp, Wayne couldn't help thinking that maybe the
safest place to be at the moment was back inside.