Flashbacks

by william hardy tester

 William Hardy Tester 2012

THE FOLLOWING IS AN EXTRACT

from the novel THOSE CHARMLESS PEOPLE by William Hardy Tester.
The time is 2174 AD, the place is London. The world has felt the brunt of climate change and has begun to recover, though large tracts of land, especially, in Englands case, to the east, remain unusable-desolate marsh. As oil becomes rarer and rarer, territorial wars are inevitable, and the latest, the East Sea War, is also one of the worst. With North Korea blackmailing the US into retreat with nuclear warheads, the UK have been called in on a treaty signed decades before to defend Japan against the enemy forces. However, the horrors of war have proven too much for many men pushed into service through government coercion tactics. This has led to the Blood Contract Act of 2155, which forces new soldiers to undergo a macabre surgical process which leaves them incapable of producing new blood cells, binding them contractually to the army and its heavily protected supplies of synthetic oxy-haemoglobin.

One of the most important characters in the story is Arthur Aspen, the son of a scientist and defence contractor. Arthur has lived the high life, has been shipped off to fight in the AngloJapanese forces in the East Sea War, and has already been home for months since deserting when the book begins. To avoid dying of blood loss, Arthur is forced into becoming a serial killer, harvesting the blood of Londons midnight pedestrians and transfusing it into his own body. However, the process is less than perfect, as we soon learn, and he falls ill. As a result of his condition, Arthur Aspen experiences a series of flashbacks, mostly from his time in Japan. Here are not all, but some of them.

Surgery
Thursday 18th February 2173, 20:24 (approx.) Waves of unreal terror and nausea rumble endlessly through Arthurs mind. ...Orange seas, a purple sun... The set of operating lights above hirs head, set at their looming angles, scare hir. What if this? What if that? Improbable but nonetheless frightening chains of thought coil and cascade inside the young cadets tinny mind. I shall put you under the influence of the anaesthetic in 1 minute or thereabouts, Artie. Walter informs hir, manoeuvring hirs Mooneyes with thin fingers. The wizened chelovek turns to face hir, holding a hypodermic needle, jolly chelovek of science, smiling the smile of a father. Hirs silver hair is parted down the middle. Arthur groans, feeling ill, though Hir knows the room is quite clean; green and white, tiled. Dark green cupboards harbour equipment and chemicals unknown to hir, the horrible mysteries of unnatural sciences. Behind Walter, a medical refrigerator buzzes, like a domestic fridge. This is the Professors private laboratory. Today, it serves as an operating theatre. A switch is flicked. The cannons of unholy light blind Arthur in an instant. Good God, father! Turn it off! Relax. Walter instructs hir. Arthur sees hirs father approaching, fading in from white as Hir bends into the surgical lights. Arthur is too scared to look upon hir in anger. How... how can you do this... to ze? You said you wanted to be in the army, Syn. You wanted to enter service. I still do. You said that you wanted to fight for your country! To be on the side of the good! To make the Kiji pay for the atrocities that they have perpetrated! I still want to, Ser~ I mean, Father... I... I am not going to desert the army, Dad. I am made of stronger stuff than verrters, you know that! Please, please... just... untie ze, and let us forget about this vile procedure. I regret to say that I cannot permit that to occur. You have to understand how hard it is for ze, Arthur. It is so, so very hard for ze to be doing this, but...well, you know... Hir puts the needle into Arthurs arm without warning hir first. The young malchik gasps, shivers. ...the officials will almost certainly scan you and your luggage at the airport, and they will be able to tell whether or not... you have... your... liver... still. The... the punishment would be harsh. For both of us. Arthur spies the surgical implements on the trolley. Oh, God! Medieval torture springs to mind. No, please, no! I take it all back! I take it all back, dad! No military service! No honour! No rewards! I would rather much like to keep my liver! Oh, heavens above! Walter steps back, becoming irritated by Arthurs reluctance to

succumb to the Blood Contract. How else are we going to raise our National Coercion status, Arthur? Hir hisses. You are the only surviving muzhchina Espe in this branch of the familie other than my self~ you are our only heir! And we are only at Level 1 at the moment... if you enter service, we will go straight to Level 3. Hir is smiling gently again now. But what happens after I have finished my 5 yrs of service? What shall we do about the liver situation once I get back? Walter scratches hirs head. Arthur can feel hirself drifting away all of a sudden, a steep gradient up into unconsciousness, revolving head over heels. Why did Hir ever sign the Blood Contract? Why? Hir stops thrashing, limbs becoming heavy. Hirs head and hirs shoulders are swimming in circles around hir. You will go into one of the rehabilitation centres for a few weeks. Granted, a lot of the chaps coming back recently have not been doing too well. Obviously, they are deserters. Luckily I know that you are smarter than that~ to escape, and try to return under a cover of authorised leave. But whatever happens, Arthur, we can do, we can achieve, anything; we are Gods over this domain. We call the shots on life and death now. I will make arrangements before you are home, I can assure you of that. How? Arthur tries to ask hir. Did Hir say it out loud? For real? You are forgetting something, Arthur. The cheloveks face blurs as Arthur begins to close hirs eyes involuntarily. The image becomes darker, darker, darker, until there are only the echoing words of hirs father left. We are rich.

Brainhammer
Monday 31st January 2174, 19:30 (approx.) Lieutenant Osina? A voice shouts in a flashback haze. Arthur raises hirs drowsy head, coughing. Cries of chelovek down roll in waves down the trench, snaking past hir~ the worst words a soldat can hear. Lieutenant Osina! Yes, Ser?! The dirt covered Lieutenant shouts reluctantly, voice croaking in the smoke. How long have they been on the field? A whistle; Arthur feels an earth jarring, disorientating shift as another shell explodes even nearer to the trench. Where are hirs ear protectors? Aspen is caught up in the globes spinning motions as the East Sea warfare, descended to that of apes, springs another wave of troops into action, whistles blowing, Second Lieutenant Basil Hendricks signalling in hirs exaggerated British manner. Not Arthurs turn. Not Arthurs job. Several cheloveks have fallen from the firestep and lie dazed and injured in front of hir. Some of them have burnt hands. Some of them have burnt faces. The dirt around them is a light clay brown; Arthur looks up, tilting hirs cap back; the sky is blood red. There are dead trees visible just over the top of the back of the narrow trench. A world of white bone surrounds hir. Somebody starts to scream, and then fails to stop. Erm, Orders, Major General? Hir asks the long whiskered chelovek, who is now standing next to Second Lieutenant Hendricks. Theres a stretcher been sent for nearly 2 minutes ago and we have a chelovek down nearly 1/2 a mile along the line... the medics are bally late! Shall I attempt to resolve the matter, Ser? Arthur hears Steel, including plasma kaki, fire in the distance. Are those cheloveks fighting on the same battlefield as hir? Is it really that big? I would rather hope so! And theres no Zeit for dilly dallying, Osina! Theres a cheloveks life on the line here! Arthur salutes the Major General. Yes, Ser! Hir turns and starts sprinting along the trench towards the next passage heading backwards to the secondary trench. Feet aching from frostnip, Arthur runs through the network of sodden gutters. Hirs X 4571 Hamburg is weighing hir down too much; Hir casts it aside to an officer drinking pissy soup from a shallow bowl. A smart line of 5 or 6 upper class cheloveks like hir trudge miserably towards their doom in the opposite direction. Thin white trails of smoke shoot past in wide arcs overhead, harbingers of destruction. Arthur prays for them not to hit the civilian camp, a few miles in that direction, near Bungo Nakagawa. If only Dad could see this, what Hir has put ze into, Aspen thinks. The aim of this particular battle is to protect the Kydai main line in Hita from the Koreans.

The heavy artillery buzzes some way away, getting slightly louder as Arthur runs, facing away from No Mans Land. As Lieutenant Osina rushes down the support trench, Hir smells acrid smoke. A shell has exploded near to them. Hir is almost at the 3rd line; only 20 seconds have passed. Arthur wonders if the injured chelovek is already dead. In what way has Hir been wounded? Several soldats push past Arthur as Hir reaches an underground dug out. It is damaged, collapsing from the inside out, one last soldat struggling only 1/2way out before the side of the trench slumps on top of hir. The vignette flitters past the Lieutenant as Hir reaches the end of the final stretch to the 3rd trench line. Skidding past a line of closely guarded energy points, Hir turns left to face down the reserve trench and nearly chokes on the black smoke billowing out from it. It becomes nightmarish noch as the smoke washes over Arthur. Soldats are removing the dead, helping the injured. The entire medical segment has been decimated by the dark tides of shinrya. The medics are gone; Arthur looks for an intact stretcher, trying to ignore the gory devastation around hir. No orders are being given, and Arthur hopes that the chelovek requiring first aid is not too badly injured; Hir knows only the very basics in field medicine, what Hir has picked up from hirs father. Strips of white fabric, floating in the dark air. Still no Orders from the other cheloveks around hir, acting like shadows. They are not dead, they are helping. But they certainly seem dead in the chest. Arthur sees something; a stretcher! But it is trapped, the Lieutenant sees as Hir draws closer; toppled over it is a metal tankard, not too heavy but heavily important. On the side in big black letters is the familiar name OXY HAEMOGLOBIN. A clear, viscous substance pours from it. This nectar of life is what keeps them going out here... the scar on Arthurs belly throbs. Hir has to get out, not just from this smoke, but from the shinrya. Even if it means death. How can they do this to us? Better a verrter and in the process of dying than tortured by shrapnel and then instantly dead. Why? Why? All humanity is purged from hirs veins by now. Hir can only carry either the stretcher or the tankard. Does Hir save the injured chelovek or the haemoglobin, disappearing quickly into Yaponskii soil? Stopping hirself from gagging on the smoke, Arthur nearly trips on something. Hir looks down; it is an upper arm, severed brutally from the shoulder. A splintered bone protrudes from the side of the limb. Espe is sick instantaneously, too stunned to think anything other than the same thought Hir has been thinking for months now. How did I end up here?

The Second Man

Saturday 7th May, 2174, 4:02 (approx.) Another noch, another life. The world feels like a dream as Lieutenant Arthur Alexander Osina creeps along the dirt ground, pressed against the wall of the barracks. Arthurs anklet is covered with a strip of fabric, dimming though not completely blocking the red, tell tale light. A cats eye spotlight prowls over the compound, searching for a fishermans catch. Lets not give them a ryby to play with tonight, Arthur tells hirself. Alarms have begun to sound, though Hir has not yet reached Perimeter 1. The noise is coming from some distance away, but over the next minute the klaxons start up closer and closer to hir until the avalanche of sound fully envelopes the military base. Some other soul has escaped hell tonight already. Hir grins, hoping that Hir can join them soon in pursuit of freedom. The red blinking lights on their own electronic ankle tags give the 2 agitated cheloveks away. Up ahead, Major General Richard Holmes marches with the gold insignia on hirs shoulders glinting in the spotlight, and Brigadier Lou Stevenson follows by hirs side like a lapdog. Arthur buries hirself behind a bush. Prickly, but excitement and fear wipe out all feelings of discomfort. 1 of the 2, Arthur cannot tell which one, talks in a quiet voice, invisible against the alarms, to the other. Arthur hopes they do not hear hirs uneven breathing when the alarms are deactivated. The barracks are painted a brown stucco. Look! Stevenson points straight at hir. A shiver of intense pain runs down Arthurs spine, and Hir almost cries out. Krieg destroys all of a cheloveks courage. Who goes there? Richard Holmes roars. Lieutenant Aspen stands up, a little distance from the 2 officers. Lou Stevenson recognises hir. It is the Lieutenant! Lou says, pandering to Holmes. Espe? What purpose are you fulfilling by crouching down there? Arthur is caught speechless. The 2 uniformed figures become silhouettes for a few seconds as the spotlight sweeps past and momentarily pauses over them. Well, er, um~ Major General Holmes takes a stab at guessing the malchiks thoughts. Searching for the verrter, are we? Arthur thinks on hirs feet, and is surprised to hear words coming from hirs own mouth almost as if controlled by another. Yes, Ser. Oh really? Stevenson sniffs. Yes, I was rather hoping to tackle the yellow bugger on hirs way through, Brigadier. In that case, I regret having to inform you that you are all but too late, Lieutenant. Hir

slipped out somehow approximately 2 minutes ago. Holmes informs hir. Oh? Who is the lucky bastard theyre talking about? That was what set off the alarm. Ah. However, the biggest problem is that which follows~ with the alarms still sounding, any # of other deserters could saunter right past the perimeter and we would not know the difference until tomorrow dawns drilling. Lou says. Yes, you are quite right. Good chelovek, Stevenson. Lieutenant Espe, go and see the alarm is turned off by the relevant persons. I shall call a head count presently. Do not be tardy! No, Ser. Arthur says, starting off towards the wooden watchtower. We will catch this Ver r ter before sunrise, mark my words! Holmes calls from behind hir, still shouting over the klaxons. We will not let any more cowards past these gates! Oh, Hir shall know the true meaning of fear tomorrow, the traitor! Arthur tries to block out these words as Hir runs. Brigadier Stevenson, Hir observes, is blissfully unaware of hirs role in springing the Lieutenant free. Oh, Father, Hir thinks, why send ze to this place, with this rank, these responsibilities? Hir had got tired of a rich syn mooching around, thats why, slobbing about summer after summer, Hir tells hirself. No career, no hard work or analogue development as hirs mother had always called it. Shove it, Arthur had said. Battle makes the chelovek, Hir remembers Walter mentioning once at some social function. But Krieg has regressed. This is not like the far wars of hirs fathers zeit, the age of mind games and bluffs. Now the missiles are gone and it has all devolved too far, too far. And Arthur is not a verrter; but Hir has grown tired and weary of the glory of combat, though just as scared and sick at the sight of seeing hirs new friends killed day upon day as during hirs first field battle. No therapy, no rest, no leave. Trench warfare, disease, the dampness of the air below the soil. The ever present feeling of death whispering over hirs shoulder. Blood, and teeth, and bones, and skin. No wonder Hirs not the only one deserting. Hiding beneath the watchtower now, Arthur spies the Achilles heel of the perimeter fence. There is an extra flap of wire fencing, excess from the compounds construction, and the seam, Hir has been told, is not fastened together. The Ur generator whirs in the background somewhere, a noise that everybody is now accustomed to.

1 of the Lance Corporals had told hir about it. I am breaking out soon. A chelovek who trusted too many too much. But also a chelovek who knew Arthur and hirs current plans, and hirs emotions... How? Arthur had asked over the top of a mug of Scottish broth. There is a point by the southern tower where the fence is not joined up properly. That is how those 3 deti escaped last Autumn. Were they not caught? Yes, but that is only cause they did not know how to get back to Blighty. Arthur wants more geheimeinformat, but Hir is cautious. How, then? The walls have ears, Hir thinks, but when those ears are as drunk as those in this room, there is nothing to worry about. Saiki port. There is a safehouse. You do not speak Yaponskii, do you? No.

Thought as much... right, basically, you need to go up past the eastern face of Mount Nooka, which is pretty much at the northernmost point of the port. Head through the valley at Kitachi and then, by heading straight north, you should get there. It is right at the northern end of the port. 2nd warehouse from the end, very very last row. It is blue an silver, big flag hanging from the front last I heard. Kitchen appliances Korp. used to own it. As simple as that, is it? Sorry I cannot be more specific, but without knowing Japperspeak, you would find it quite useless~ Just tell ze what to do. Arthurs memory is being tested. Hir will have to write this down as soon as Hir gets back to hirs bed. Ya just go in and wait. Somebody will hop you, under cover of noch, to the northern tip of Onyujima Island, and there... there you will have sanctuary; theres a spot on the island which is unpopulated apart from a few sympathisers. And they have some sort of abia with the merchants passing through there, who will take you back as far as the Thames Estuary without fee... they are paid by their employers. Benefactors. Good people, like you and ze. You do have somewhere fixed for saline once you get back to England, right? Arthur shook hirs head. You need to be thinking about that. How are you gonna survive once you get back to Great England? I will plead to my father for a solution. What, are you gonna ask for your liver back? I am sorry, Lieutenant, but do you think they keep our livers preserved, bobbing in little jam jars? Are you kidding ze? You will be dead in days if you do not keep topped up with blood back home. And blood will be hard to come by in England... well, hard without doubly attracting the polices attention. You would have to kill people. Not the best way to keep things on the down low when you are already a verrter. I am not going to become some kind of goddamn serial killer, Corporal. Then youd better work something out fast, if you want to escape before the next major battle. What was that first part again? Oxy haemoglobin, chaps! Lifeblood! The Major General calls from some way behind Arthur. Stevenson is with hir. Alphabetical order, please. We need to keep order here. The Corporal had gone to sit with another friend of Arthurs after that. Since Hir~

Arthur snaps back to reality as 3 young Privates wander past the watchtower, with their electronic tags blinking red like hirs own. 1 of them opens the door to the small building housing the alarm system designed to detect anybody moving past the compounds fence, without the Special Exemption of their anklet being cleared for Perimeter 1. Danger, danger... Arthur hides behind 1 of the legs of the watchtower as 2 of the cheloveks proceed up the ladder behind hir. The alarm! The other one shouts over the klaxons, which are beginning to hurt Arthurs ears. What of it, mate? 1 of the cheloveks on the ladder shouts down to the ground in a gruff voice. We should turn it off now! The heat has been raised and all that, so, er...

Alright. Clanging footsteps hit the rungs 2 fold. Arthur has to act quickly if Hir is to escape this nightmare scene tonight. Where are those dogs?! Aspen hears Holmes yelling from some distance away. I want them and their trainers here on the double! Arthur Espe runs for the 12 foot high fence and crashes through the hole in an uncoordinated fashion, bending the wire and creating an obvious hole as Hir dives for the grazing ground on the other side. Hir will be the last person to escape from here in that manner. The klaxons, still going strong, stutter slightly as the alarm system is reactivated. It is not enough to arouse interest. Arthur, covered in loose, dry soil, stands up in the darkness and runs down the hill, away from the lights of the army base. Looking out from the hillside, over the top of smaller hills, Hir experiences the first tentative signs of the encroaching cyan heralding the dawn. Hir needs more Zeit to run. There is no possibility of hirs turning back now. The punishment for attempted dezertirstvo is almost as bad as that for the real thing. The coast is visible almost anywhere in the alien landscape of Yaponiya, that much the young Lieutenant has learnt to be true in hirs relatively short zeit here. The ridged, striding hills of the ita Prefecture are normally covered all over in a blanket of luscious colour; unique tilias, calanthes, fine sub tropical plants. But this particular patch of Kysh was razed by incendiary bombs late last summer when an airship misjudged its velocity and altitude whilst attacking the compound. It had been brought down... Arthur turns around to face the rectangular army base... just around the side of the cape, there, on the left. In the late evening, about 8 or 9 mesyats ago. Memories... how they flit past, like insects. Treasure them, a voice says. It is not hirs own. The city of Saiki is partially obscured by the peaks of the high hills, their ancient names unknown to foreigners like the rich Lieutenant. Saiki, according to Lance Corporal Kensington, is the way to go. Somebody else is up ahead, 1 of the other chelos, according to the Major General~ another deserter. Whatever happens, whoever it is who has been as lucky as hir in escaping the Kitachi barracks tonight, neither of them will be alone. The lights in the buildings, buildings that Hir can see in the gloom, are off, due to the blackout. Everybody is obeying orders. Good for them, Arthur thinks, but I can barely make out which way to head in order to get to the port. Dogs are barking; the pursuit begins; Lieutenant Aspen slides noisily down the bark clippings on the side of the hill, heading in a straight line down towards the rocky outcrops and interlocking spurs of the nearest valley, and begins running, almost falling, for hirs life.

The Family Hiroshi

Saturday 7th May, 2174, 9:17 (approx.) The sol had risen at 1/4 past 5 in the morning. Arthur Aspen, the escaped Lieutenant, wanders along the concrete promenade, hirs new companion following close behind. The other escapee has light brown hair and a pointed chin. Hir looks a bit like a child, Arthur muses. Certainly acts like one. Oi, bent nose. They have already passed the main shipyard. What do you want? I was wondering what your name is. Unless you want ze to keep calling you bent nose. Thats 1 hell of a snozzer. May I ask how yo~ I told you, we are not exchanging names until we get back to England. I do not want any one of us to spill the beans if they get caught. Any of us? Dont you mean either of us? I doubt the notion that we will be the only ones going to Onyujima on this particular hop. Really? Saiki has held out well compared to the land north of it, Osaka and the rest. But Arthur saw new Steel and ammunition being unloaded as they passed the ships in the port, now some way behind them, lifted out by the cranes looming over the vessels, strict, hard working, upright posture... Arthur spies the end of the quay and knows that their tiring yomp is near its end. The taller soldat, dressed in an untidy, creased suit reclaimed from the compound, wanders ahead. That is the end of Saiki port, there. The 2nd 1 from the back, did you say? Yeah. A chilling breeze whips across Arthurs face, freezing hir to the core. Hirs soul is shaking. The air smells of seaweed and dirty smoke. How long do you think before the dogs reach the port? The tall chelovek asks Arthur as they stroll past a coil of thick rope and a green crate, left unattended. A small, war damaged loading crane has been left to rust up against 1 of the brick warehouses. Another few hours, plus the pepper, maybe 1 hour and 3/4 depending on whether or not they get all fucked around by the city and the traffic. Wont the pepper stop them, then? No. I have seen bloodhounds in action. And these GM things are going to be proper beasts. It might not even slow them down. The tall chelovek gulps in an exaggerated manner in response. Arthur takes note of a small cargo ferry, white with a grey hull, moored to the side of the quay with coarse, handmade

rope directly opposite the penultimate warehouse in the row. The warehouse has a blue steel frame with silver corrugated sheeting for walls. Let us hope they dont reach the safehouse before we leave for the island. Well, we have arrived, at least. The 2 cheloveks stop, looking up at the A2 sized Anglo Yaponskii flag waving boldly from above the great metal doors to the warehouse. It is icy cold today, not much like late Spring at all. Hello? The other Hr. shouts, hirs voice weak in the earthbreath. Hellooooo? There. Arthur Espe points to a much smaller, single door, to the left of the main entrance. Inside the darkness of the safehouse, a white L appears as the door cracks open an inch. Yaponskii faces look up; Arthur pauses, gritting hirs teeth, the thoughts going through hirs head pointing to betrayal and horror. A trap? Hir has no choice, now, whatever the outcome. The other, nameless chelovek behind hir takes out hirs spectacles before using hirs longer arms to push the door open further from behind Arthur, light flooding into the warehouse filled with foreign whispers. There are 3 adult Yaponskii, and 2 twin girls. The mother is more afraid than hirs docheri, who stand next to each other silently as Arthur creeps forward into the echoing steel tomb. The grizzled father stomps over in a determined manner and for a minute Arthur wishes for the safety of the possession of a loaded gun. But there is nothing to fear. The lights explode into life, revealing a surprising selection of furniture. The warehouse dwelling, almost definitely owned by the sailor like father or the wizened grandfather sitting in a chair by the mother, is not ramshackle. A high end fridge/hydrator unit from 1 of the big Osaka Korps, Uggi, is plugged in near the familie, whirring loudly. A sofa worth about several 1000 s has been dragged in and set down near the centre of the building. There is a gas hob, not currently being used. These people know what they are doing. Ahem. The thin, tall chelovek clears hirs throat, startling Arthur Osina. Erm... is this... the... er... safehouse? The father nods. Hir says something in Yaponskii to the zhenshchina, who then scuttles off to the back of the warehouse. What are your names? The Yaponskii Herr asks. No names. We do not want either of us dobbing the other 1 in if 1 of us gets caught. The tall chelovek says. You wont get caught. Hir replies in the same tone. Not a single patrol boat between Saiki and Onyujima. You are very safe. We still like to be cautious. The Japper seems to understand, nodding once. Then welcome, Comrades, to house of family Hiroshi. Some hours later, in the argent dusk, Arthur is standing over Hiroshi Saburo as Hir heats up some brand of pre packaged meal over the gas hob, in a tin pot. The other verrter, still in hirs tatty suit, is dozing on the sofa behind Arthur, arms spread across the back. Masao, the grandfather, is the owner of the warehouse and more sprightly than Hir 1st appeared. Before long Saburo is greeting 3 more verrters by the door, chelos fleeing from a different compound. Arthur eyes them with moderate suspicion, hirs profile framed by the white floodlights inside the building. All 3 are even younger than Arthur. 2 are mixed race, one white. Losing interest, Hir studies the yellow, geometric markings painted onto the concrete. Yaponskii symbols denoting loading bays for trucks, or something of the sort.

Evening meal, now. Saburo alerts Arthur soon after this, and the soldat taps the chelovek sleeping on the sofa on the leg. Arthur notices something black sprinkled over the cushions in a couple of places. Oi. Soot? Huh? The lean figure tilts hirs head up. Wazzup? Dinner. Arthur, brushing the dust from hirs short black hair, takes hirs place sitting on the stock near the gas hob. The tired chelovek with the glasses propels hirself rather rapidly from the sofa and sits down next to Arthur with a thud. Ouch! Fuck... It is concrete. Arthur says in a monotone voice, lifting up hirs shirt a little to check for the scar over hirs non existent liver; it is still there. Is this not a dream? Are they really escaping the East Sea War tonight? Saburo begins dishing up the hot and sour soup Hir has been cooking. The chelovek on island is a Prince John. Hir has deals with merchant ships passing there on their way to Saiki. Hir passes 1 of the small ceramic bowls, plain white, to Arthur Osina. Thank You, Hr. Hiroshi. Hir turns to the young, blonde haired verrter, 1 of the 3 new ones. Can you pass the soy, erm...? Dan. Should not have said that. The brown haired, thin chelovek warns hir, eating already. What? Dan answers, oblivious. No names. Arthur grins. You are at a disadvantage now, pal~ for now, if 1 of gets caught and tortured... and if you get caught, you will be tortured... then that gos will be able to give just 1 piece of geheimeinformat to the Coalition. There will be a fair few Daniels in the army, true, but now all they will need is one more piece of information about you before they have you stricken off the Honourably Missing list and stuck onto Dezertirstvo. Fuck. Dan almost drops hirs bowl. But you~ Izza tough world, Comrade. The thin chelovek butts in again. Saburo looks at Arthur, or maybe at the other, taller verrter, in a quizzical fashion. Arthur keeps hirs attention on the 3 verrters that Hir does not know so well. There is Dan, who, despite being a little younger than Espe, looks more Krieg torn; more scars, more blotches on the skin~ the latter being from illness in the trenches, Arthur guesses. The rebenok has a northern English tinge to hirs voice. The 2 mixed race verrters are Londoners like hirself; eastern fringes, near the Floodlands, judging by their own accents. A little Cockney. They are related, perhaps~ they look similar. Muttering in Yaponskii, Saburos wife leads Masao elsewhere, perhaps to the families beds. The 2 girls follow them. So, erm, are those your docheri? Yes. Saburo nods. Twins. Yes. Hir nods again. 2 deti, ey? The tall chelovek grins. Must be tricky in a dangerous environment like this. Raising deti. Hiroshi Saburo raises 3 fingers silently. 3? Is... No. My musuko, Yuto, sent to Osaka at first. Out of danger. But, working in England now. Even safer, I am told. Arthur has finished eating. The others begin to talk amongst themselves.

How can you afford to run the ferry every evening, Hr. Hiroshi? State money... benefits. A break to local business owners in important industrial areas. But they do not realise that my business was bombed a few years ago now. Arent they tracking your expenses? The tall chelovek asks. I mean, the fuel youre buying for the ferry, itd show up. Not to mention the extra food and stuff... As far as I know, government has... much bigger fish to fry. No time for what is perhaps just a benefits fraudster, or a black market manufacturer. The chelovek with the Mooneyes is horrified. Saburo, if they found out... you know what they would do to you, dont you? And dont just say that theyd kill you, I mean~ Why dont you just move away, man? 1 of the mixed race chelos asks. Why not emigrate like your syn, if it is so dangerous here? My life was saved many years ago by a British soldat. I have a duty here. In the middle of the noch, now, the deserters are all stood outside the warehouse when Aspen and 1 of the unnamed verrters hear an echoing sound and turn around. This part of the quay is unusually clear of cargo and debris, and the earthbreath whooshes down in long, freezing blasts at irregular intervals, whisking up leaves already showing the signs of late summer in May. The worlds climate is undergoing a metamorphosis, as is the Zeitgeist. Arthur kicks a few stones along the quay before looking up again. This zeit, the sound Hir hears is much closer, and all 5 verrters can hear it. Hiroshi Saburo comes through the small door holding a large ring of keys. We go, now. Arthur nods. Right. Hir sees Saburos wife following behind. Is your wife coming with us? No, no. How are we making the hop? Dan asks. Saburo points to the small ferry they will be taking. It is the white and grey one. Arthur turns further, to face the dark, forested island. Facing them is the village of Morigoura. But they will be travelling further up the coast of Onyujima, or so Espe imagines~ to the uninhabited part of the landmass. Gambatte ne. Hiroshi Saburos wife says before kissing hir. Saburo waves quickly to all on the quay before jumping in the boat and starting up the engine. Hir is going off without us! 1 of the other deserters yells. Shush! The tall kerl instructs the loud mouth. Arthur watches as the ferry is brought round by Hiroshi to the launching ramp, and turned so that the stern is facing them, ready for the hold to be opened. The tall chelovek in the glasses speaks from over hirs shoulder, curtly and in a hushed voice. Dya believe that yarn Hir told us about hirs syn? Yes. Bally stupid thing to do, if you ask ze. How is the malchik going to get back to hirs familie after the shinrya, in Osaka or Saiki? England is fine. Hir will be safe there. Yeah, but Hir wont be able to~ I do not think that that is at the top of the list of Saburos concerns, Comrade. The skinny, physically weaker chelovek decides to refrain from probing the Lieutenants emotions any further.

Arthur In Wonderland
Saturday 7th May, 2174, 23:11 (approx.) There is a jarring sound as the hold is finally closed and Saburo trudges around to get to the ladder leading up to the deck of the small ferry. Arthur and the 4 other cheloveks on the boat with hir grab at the sides of the hull as the launching ramp begins to whirr and the craft rumbles down the strips towards the water. The 1 named Dan slips. The earthbreath is strong tonight, but rain has not yet begun to fall. But it will. It will. The inside of the hold is rusted red, but this is not distinguishable in the darkness. What the fucks going on? 1 of the mixed race cheloveks asks, concerned. This is a boat. Boats go in water. The tall chelovek mumbles while looking up, which is where the sound of dripping water is coming from. The sound of the sea rushing in batters the sides of the craft, and a little bit of fear sweats away at the back of the Lieutenants neck. We are waterborne. The other mixed race verrter spells it out for them. The boat begins to sway and roll across the water, over invisible dark green waves. The winds buffet Hiroshis small ship for the entirety of the clandestine hop. Luckily, there are at least handrails in the cargo hold for the passengers to get a hold on, which they find eventually. It is becoming quite a gale out there! Arthur says, referencing the howling and whooshing outside. About 1/2way cross, Hir reckons. Rainstorm, more like. Dan says. Hir looks very ill, Arthur observes. Probably skipped the oxy haemoglobin a few zeits. How long have you served, Daniel? Arthur asks. Hirs mind has been taken off the scar on hirs belly, at least for now. Er... 4 yrs. Longer than hir. That explains it, Hir thinks. I am a medic. Hey, ze too. The tall chelovek says. Cool. What was your rank, bent nose? You look like a proper, front line soldier. I have told you, I am keeping my lips sealed, Khalifa. The joke is lost on the towering fool. A bullhorn with a Pearly British accent punctures the invisible Oriental noch, and a spotlight swivels, flashing between the tiny, dusty gaps between the wooden planks of the deck. THIS IS THE ANGLO JAPANESE MILITARY POLICE. All 5 look up in terror. WE ARE CARRYING OUT ROUTINE CHECKS ON ALL WATERCRAFT. DO NOT RESIST OUR ORDERS OR YOU WILL FACE IMMEDIATE PENALTY. AVAST, AND PREPARE FOR BOARDING. The message begins to repeat. THIS IS THE ANGLO JAPANESE MILITARY POLICE... Didnt our chelovek Hiroshi said there were no patrol boats on the crossing?! The tall

chelovek grabs Arthurs shoulders. Fuck! Yes, well, looks like they changed their minds tonight. That syn of a bitch! I bet Hir set us up, the ublyudok! They hear the engines cut off, creating an eerie silence. Waves roll and boom and crash all around them. The ship leans and tilts illy. The police boat, fast approaching, sounds bigger than the ferry. Are these really just routine checks, or have they been singled out? Let us not jump to conclusions, Comrade. Arthur says. Keep calm. Keep a clear head. No rash actions. Right. The medic mutters under hirs breath. They have stopped moving. Arthur feels disconcerted by the fact that Hir cannot see any of hirs new friends~ the hold is unlit. Just... keep... calm... There are creaking sounds before a thunder of footsteps board the ship, all out of sight from the verrters. Holy fuck... Dan whispers. They are right above us! Hush! Arthurs comrade instructs the rebenok angrily.

Is this your vessel, Ser? The leading police officer is shining a flashlight in Hiroshis face. Y... yes! Hir nods. ID hir. Another 1 comes forwards with an eye bug and flashes it at Hiroshi Saburo, who winces. There is no way out now. Eh... ID hash 82~944~703~932. Saburo Hiroshi, Born January the 14th, 2120 AD. Birthplace is... the Red Cross Hospital in Mito, Yaponiya. Near Tokyo. Current residence? Current residence is... oh. Gone? Homeless? The leading officer asks, lifting up hirs visor. Saburo nods again, rapidly. This boat is my living. I f~ Married. 3 children. Erm... The officer with the eye bug interrupts hir again. S~W or SxW? S~W. 16~10. OK. Log it. Hir looks back to Saburo. Thank you for cooperating, Ser. Safe travels. The enforcer of Admiralty law gives a quick salute before Hir and the 2 accompanying officers jump back onto their own boat.

The prisoners can hear the police boat retreating, and Arthurs tall friend hammers on the wooden ceiling even as the spotlight recedes. Oi! Japper! Hir yells. What the fuck was all that about, you rat? Keep a level head, Comrade. I do not believe in the notion that Hir is a double agent. Arthur tries to placate the chelovek. Saburo crouches down on the deck to speak to them through the stock. S~so sorry, friends... police checks. Hirs voice is muffled. All gone. I am very sorry. Are we safe now? Any danger? Arthur asks. No... no danger. Hir breathes heavily. Arthur gives a reassuring look to the medic. OK, OK, OK... 1 of the mixed race verrters says, running hirs fingers through hirs closely shaved hair. How close are we to the island?

1/2way. Let us get moving, then, Hr. Hiroshi! Arthur commands the captain of the small ferry, in good spirit. Yes, Ser! Saburo yelps nervously as returns to the bridge, starting up the engines once again. Hir whispers under hirs breath: Never happened before... never happened before...

At nearly 1/2 past 11 that naito, the boat reaches a group of trees hanging over the water on the north eastern tip of the island. Saburo guides the ferry around the trees in the trajectory Hir has followed so many times before. Behind the trees a wooden jetty comes into sight. It is old, but it is stable, albeit not rock solid. Hiroshi Saburo begins to pull a Crazy Ivan and heads to the bow as 2 torchlights come into view. There is a small beach around the jetty, leading around to the north of the island. The ferry slowly edges towards its destination. Password? 1 of the torch bearing cheloveks calls as the ferry approaches. Hamabata. Saburo calls back in a hushed voice. 1 of the figures, almost invisible in the noch, calls to hirs friend with the other torch. Let em in. The 2 Perlonzii cheloveks wander forwards through the noch to help Hiroshi moor the boat for unloading. The 2 cheloveks set down their torches, keeping care not to set their beams towards the sky, which would betray their presence. The hawsers, already tied to the jetty, are thrown to Hiroshi and after pulling the boat closer, all 3 cheloveks tighten the deck fittings and bring the ferry in towards the beach, bow facing the sea. How many? The 1st chelovek asks Saburo. F... five. Tell Prince John the latest have arrived. Hir tells hirs Comrade, who vanishes back into the naito away from the beach, towards the forest. Let us get them out, then. You alright in there? Hir shouts. Help ze with these locks, mate, will ya? Saburo passes hir the keys. Once all the verrters are out the ferry, the chelovek in black swings round hirs torch to face the forest past the beach. Arthur, shivering as Hir stands on the wet sand, suddenly realises that there is a long, timber frame house standing at the edge of the woodland. Near the right hand end of the house is a set of French windows. That is where we are headed. The chelovek says. The house looks hastily built, but fairly smart. The cheloveks approach the dwelling warily, through the cold and the lapping of waves, the torch beam their only guide, shaking haphazardly. My name is Allen, by the way. Arthurs friend nods in approval with this introduction, keeping up a brisk walk by the cheloveks side. As they get close to the house, the lights in the French windows room flicker on, dull orange, and Arthur sees 2 cheloveks standing inside what appears to be a dining room; the skinny, skulking chelovek who had been with this fellow Allen, and a clean shaven Somali in a dirty T shirt and smart, black trousers. Arthur Aspen reasons that it is the Somali who is the Prince of this island. The greeting as the chelovek Allens colleague opens the door confirms this.

Good evening, dear subjects! Witness the honour! I am your host... Hir bows in a manner which is flamboyant and yet seemingly sincere. Prince... John. Hir says in a quieter register, choosing to shake Allens hand over any of the others despite knowing the flat nosed chelovek well. The 1st thing Arthur notices as Prince John speaks is hirs teeth. Despite seeming to be in possession of a good razor, there is evidently no toothbrush in their den, for the Princes teeth are a mottled green, and chipped, and in places made of metal. In fact, Arthur realises, it is quite possibly the most egregious lack of dental hygiene Hir has ever observed in hirs life. Do come in. Prince John continues to talk in an almost patronising upper class Pearly British accent inflected with traces of that of the eastern parts of the African continent. All 7 cheloveks enter the house of Prince John, 5 of them new to this setting. I have done this before. Saburo tells Prince John. Ah... erm, yes... you can go. The rest of you... well, these are my loyal bodyguards and serv~ Hir clears hirs throat as Saburo leaves silently, Dan looking behind hir in alarm as the Japper budges past them, hurrying out of the door. These are my cheloveks~ Hr. Allen, who I believe youve already met, and Hr. Cedric. They will be taking care of you here this evening. Any problems, just ask em. Allo, Cedric! The tall chelovek says obnoxiously to the chap, who has pointy, upturned nose. Some zeit after they have been shown their rooms, Arthur is in the shower. I am just going outside for a breather, alright? Sure thing, medic. The bespectacled, tall chelovek takes another look at the wooden panelled room, with its traditional Yaponskii beds and wooden chests of drawers. They have been given scruffy but adequate clothes to change into for the long hop. I will be back soon. Hir taps the doorframe rhythmically with hirs fingers, before walking away from the plume of steam emitting from the en suite bathroom. Hir heads through the rooms exit, a green door adjacent and perpendicular to that other, steamy doorway, and disappears for a while.

Betrayal!
Sunday 8th May, 2174, 9:30 (approx.) Arthur wakes up to the crashing of gentle waves against the shores of Onyujima and at 1st is certain Hir is lying outside on the beach. Arthur opens hirs eyes and sees the ceiling above hir. Hirs neck aches a little, but mostly Hir feels OK. They are off the mainland, Hir remembers, jubilantly. Arthur Espe turns to see that the tall chelovek is no longer lying beside hir. Medic? Hang on a vtoroi, bent nose. The sound of fast running water. Hir is in the shower. We got breakfast? Aspen moans. I have in my possession something much more important than that for your consideration. Alright... Arthur turns over onto hirs side. No, wait, hirs back hurts too. In fact all of hirs muscles are aching. Thatll be all the walking, Hir tells hirself. The medic stretches hirs arms as Hir ambles into the oak panelled bedroom from the en suite, dressed in nothing but a small towel. Hir looks down at Espe, lying on hirs futon bedding, and grins. Hir is holding something in hirs left hand. Did you sleep well, pillow biter? Yes, thank you. Arthur groans again. Look, Kerly werly, please can I tell you my name at least? Osina is waking up fully. No, it would not be fair on my part. This is a 2 way thing. We keep all geheimeinformat to ourselves. That rebenok Dan fucked up just telling us hirs 1st name. Hir is in the danger zone already. As you wish. Hir looks annoyed. We are still in this together, Comrade. Well, I will just get dressed, and then we can head off. What? The ship is here already? What zeit is it? The medic stumbles, hopping on 1 foot as Hir struggles with hirs socks. No, the ship is not here. But we are going to have to find our own boat in Hyugadomariura or somewhere. Im thinking of a nice yacht for the 2 of us... Didnt Prince John say we were ta~ I have got something important to tell you, my chelovek. Hir says, turning around. There is a thing... 3 little things, actually, that set ze at unease, here. Hir grapples with the towel. 3 things? Arthur asks, sitting up. Hir is sceptical of hirs friends claims. 3 things. Just 3 little gripes I have. Numero Uno: why did the Keik let us go? Eh? Why did the police let the ferry past without searching the hold? Hir strides over and

crouches down near Arthur, still bare down to the waist. Osina notes hirs fellow escapee has a much healthier physique than Hir hirself does. Well, they could not check the hold while we were on the water, could they? No, but judging by the fact there is a death sentence for dezertirstvo, I would say that there is a pretty good chance that in ordinary circumstances, theyd try a bit harder, lead the ferry to shore to search it or something. Cause that is what they were doing, Comrade~ they were searching for verrters. Only I do not think they are looking to arrest em. What do you mean? Just look at these clothes Hir bought us~ # 2. Hir holds out 1 of the brown jumpers they have been presented with. What is that? Hir points to a congealed, dark stain on the collar. Come on, take a guess. Blood? Nah, I tasted it. Gravy. But Prince John~ Prince John told us these were new. Arthur says, catching up. AKA point 3: Prince John is a lying scumbag. Hir passes an ID card to Arthur... the object Hir has been holding since Hir exited the bathroom. ADDITIONAL INFORMATION AVAILABLE THROUGH SCANNING NAME: ANDILE SEFU AGE: 12/04/2142 POSITION: COVERT OPERATION AGENT, CASE O~1/NN154, Q~2/87013 A.K.A. JOHN KHALID HASSAN NCL: 1 SIGNED: SUPT B. M. NESBITT, LEVEL 95 ON 21/08/2169 There is a photo of their host, the printed crest of the British Overseas Police in blue, a signature from Hr. Nesbitt, and a metal chip in the corner for scanning by machines. And that is it. So... So...? Arthur repeats hirs thoughts. We make like the trees, yeah. In a flash, Arthur jumps up, pulling off hirs old uniform and grabbing the clothes Hir has been lent by the undercover cop showing, somewhat to hirs friends surprise, none of the symptoms of tiredness Hir has displayed up to this point. We have got to get out, man, we have got to get out of here... fuck, this is bad! This is bad, bad, bad... Arthur runs hirs fingers through hirs short hair. Keep calm, buddy, keep calm. Hir grabs Arthurs shoulders, holds hir still. We can do this. Arthur Aspen does not see how. Hir walks up to the door out of the room, but does not open it. What do we do? What do we do, man? What can we do? Hirs throat is dry. We are going to pretend that nothing has happened, for a start. Instead of heading out of the green door, Arthur turns left to face the entrance to the en suite. The door to the bathroom is not quite shut. I need a drink. Is the tap water safe to drink in this place, or is it sewage water? I would not go in there if I was you, Comrade. Why? Arthur asks, hand touching the unvarnished, unpainted door. Steam rises through the slight, illuminated crack, billowing out towards the ceiling. Now would be a good time to ask ze where it was that I got that ID card from. Where did you get the card from? Hird given it to one of hirs goons for some reason. The one who was at the ferry.

The chelovek Allen? Yes, that one. Hir sees Arthur pushing the door open another inch. I really, really, really would not do that if I was you. This zeit Arthur listens, sighing as Hir steps away from the door. What the fuck did you do, man? Hir had the card on hir. Did you know that when you... No. Then why? I was suspicious. And rightly so, it seems. Jesus, man, if this hadnt been a set up... Arthur shivers. How do we explain hirs absence? Hir is our Princes 2nd in command from what I have seen so far. Let ze handle that. Just play along if I have to say anything wacky, et cetera. Arthur nods. We are step ahead of our foes, shorty. That is the important thing~ that we are prepared. Let us head for the breakfast table. Hir grins. Prince John is sat facing the door as they come in, at the head of the table. Ah! Our late risers! Care to join us for your last meal here? Last meal ever, or so youd like to think, Arthur ponders. But Hir holds hirs tongue as instructed. Yes, thanks. The medic answers for the 2 of them. Your Highness. Prince John mutters, smiling but unimpressed. Hirs head tilts down a notch. Hm? The medic looks blankly onwards. Arthur cannot tell whether Hir is truly oblivious or just trying to get a reaction. The 2 cheloveks sit opposite each other on the last pair of chairs to the southernmost end of the table, near the door to the left wing of the house. The 3 other deserters, verrters and contras of the state, are already digging trenches through their fruit salad. You have missed the muesli, I am afraid. We have a schedule to keep to if we are to evacuate you as soon as possible. I think that there might possibly be some more in the kitchen, y~your Highness. Cedric says in hirs shy, hushed way. The scrawny figure gets up from the table. I shall go and check. Prince John notices the empty chair near hir. Will Hr. Allen be joining us? Hir asks bluntly, still holding that Cheshire grin with those awful, awful teeth. The medic is quick to respond. Erm, no. Hir decided to take a shower. Hir said Hir will have breakfast later on in the morning. Prince John pouts, then nods, cutting into the steak saved solely for hir. Steak for breakfast, Arthur tuts to hirself. It is only now that Arthur observes the furnishings of the room and realises just how unhinged this 2 faced Somali is. The chair the self styled Prince sits on is painted gold, with red cloth stapled to the arms and back. The fruit in the bowls in the corners of the dining room is all wax, and laid out obsessively the same in each of 4 instances. The upstock has had a regency era style cross hatch pattern engraved into it by hand, and the antique wall panelling has been salvaged from elsewhere~ exactly where, Arthur does not hazard a guess. The tablecloth is finest silk. Arthur decides against asking where the food they are about to eat comes from, too. Here you go. Cedric plonks their full bowls on the table, before sitting down to continue hirs meal without another word. Thanks, Cedric. The tall chelovek says to Cedric, while Arthur tucks in.

What is the time? Cedric looks at hirs watch. 1/4 to 10, y~your Highness. Hir carries on with hirs own food, a slow scrumber. Where is our chelovek? Mm! Allen? Cedric replies with more energy than anything else Hir has said so far during their stay on Onyujima. No, our shipper. Should be within sight within minutes, your Highness. Go and check, ze chelly. Again, the lethargic, pointy nosed goon leaves the table to do hirs Highnesss bidding. Arthur feels a little uncomfortable now. Everybody enjoying their food? All 5 nod, and again, John smiles that disgusting, yellowy green smile. ...Good. The medic is looking very, very concerned. Hir has stopped eating. Erm...excuse ze, your Highness, but ze and my friend here need to talk about a few arrangements for back home, so... Dont you want any fruit salad, or toast? Well be back in just a minute. Just need to talk. You are excused. Arthur looks at the tall, thin chelovek quizzically as the 2 of them leave the table and head out into the hallway. What~ Wait til we are out of earshot 1st, you dummy! The medic frogmarches Arthur down the corridor, back towards their green door. What is our plan? Keep acting like nothings happened. Ill go and get Allens gun, and then we go back to the table. I dont know whether the police are coming or what, but we can make sure we are prepared for when shit does go down. Right. So youre armed~ what about ze? Im still working on that. You have my trust... have I got yours? I do not really have much choice, providing that that ID card was... real... oh, you motherfucker. Youre the rat, arent you?! It was never Allen or Prince John! What the fuck are you talking about? Allen was just trying to warn ze. Thats why~ Jeez, are you out of your mind? The medic lifts hirs shirt, showing Arthur a scar similar to hirs own. Fucking hell, man. I may be a lot of things, but Im not a traitor. Tell that to the National Coalition. Arthur says from behind a veil of humility. Its okay. Shits fucked up around here, I understand. Just let us return to the breakfasting table now and prepare for battle. I am bloody starving. At 5 to 10, Cedric comes come back with good news. The ship is almost here, your Highness. Approaching from the northeast. Thank you, Cedric. Right~ are you all ready? Dan and the others nod. Well in that case, boys, let us get moving! Arthur finds it hard to believe that this enthusiastic chelovek, however bad hirs dental hygiene, is a member of the British Overseas Police and about to turn them in. Though positively mad, Hir genuinely seems to believe that hirs guests are on their way out of the country. Espe shudders for a moment, remembering the moment close before when the horrible possibility dawned on hir that it is the medic who has been playing spies as an agent of the Coalition. But trust is all Hir has. Dan stands up. Fab! Back to Blighty, hey? Dan says. Medics honours. Hir grabs Arthurs friend by the arm and hauls hir 1/2 out of hirs seat. We board 1st! I dont think we need~

Nah, come on, mate! Let us get on that ship and ride it straight outta this shitty excuse for a country! Prince John is stood at hirs chair now, scowling, as Cedric tries to bring in the long, seafaring barge outside on hirs own. Arthur glimpses it through the French windows as it comes in at an angle, a great industrial hulk of a watercraft. Where exactly is Allen? A shower, did you say? Er... yes. The thin chelovek answers, shaking slightly. Hir is taking a long time, and what is more the boiler is running no longer. Cedrics struggling with that boat out there. I will... go tell hir to hurry up, your Highness. Allen, that is. Right, yes. The tall chelovek paces back down the corridor with the former Lieutenant in hot pursuit. Fuck, what do we do? Arthur pauses. Did that look like a police boat to you?! Maybe it is true... but... but the ID card, dude, that Hr. was holding it in hirs hand! Perhaps Allen was the only plant. Hir could have been trying to turn us against this John guy. Well, it did not work out too well for Herr Allen hirself if that was the case, did it? No, I think Hir was hiding it from our Prince John. Hiding it? Or showing it to us? Oh, fuck, I dont know, but what do we tell John about hirs chelovek? There is a call from the dining room~ from Prince John. Gentlemen! We have a visitor! As Arthur and hirs medic friend enter the dining room for the last zeit, they see a short, round, Mediterranean looking fellow dressed in grubby overalls waiting for them, hands in hirs pockets. Hir has greasy, tanned skin. Estas i tiuj la fina du viroj? Spytongue. Dare they trust a chelovek like this with their lives? Yes. Prince John answers the cheloveks question. Bona; mia boato havas limigitan kapaciton. Prince John nods knowingly, hand on chin. Are we leaving already, your Highness? 1 of the mixed race deserters asks. Prince John nods again, grinning in a most genial manner. Yes. Well, there is little point in you chaps staying for much longer than you need to, is there? The sooner the better! Hir chortles. Here, Spytongue! Arthur calls as the chelovek, perhaps Spanish or maybe Italian, wanders out the back door to the kitchen. Hir stops and turns. Eh? What is your name, mate? Mikhael Stephanos. Hr. Stephanos is going to be your Captain for the next few weeks. All the cheloveks look eager to get on board. Then what are we waiting for? Dan cheers once again, hirs voice squeaking, making Arthur wince. Hirs hair, Hir realises, will be pretty long by the zeit they get back to Greater England. Hopefully not too long. Hir will need to buy a disposable razor. Arthur cringes at the thought. Let us be gettin on that boat! Oh, now wheres Cedric gone? The medic asks, looking out of the French windows. There is a knock at the kitchen door, and the medic looks at Arthur with an expression of alarm on hirs face. That must be Allen. John faces the door. Hir puts hirs hands in hirs pockets for a moment. I dont think thats~

About 2 dozen British Overseas Police officers in military gear come crashing through the kitchen into the dining room, brandishing their guns at the verrters. Not plasma rifles~ real, old fashioned bullet guns. Cedric is with them, though not as dressed up. Prince John is horrified. Cedric... you, of all people? I am shocked! Save it, Hr. Sefu. Andy, Louis, take Hr. Sefu back to the town for re grafting. The rest of you, you know the drill. Let us take these cheloveks outside. Stephanos is in the middle of the crowd, looking around with confused, beady eyes under a thick brow. Wha~what is this? W~ stop this! Stop! Prince John begins screaming incoherently as 1000s of hands reach for hirs bare chest. Hir does not want to go back to the town. Hir does not want to go back to the town, and Hir is not even sure why. Hir is crying, kicking, screeching at the top of hirs lungs in utter hopelessness and despair even as they drag hir out of the back door, white T shirt being pulled violently over hirs head. The door is slammed shut once that section of the party exit. What is happening? Stephanos asks. Pardon? Cedric acknowledges the owner of the heavy duty watercraft. As they are being marched out of the building through the front entrance, Arthur and the unnamed medic both notice the conversation taking place behind them.

What is this? Who are you? We are the British Overseas Police, Ser. No need to panic. But... but... You know the plan. Cedric nudges hir, winking. The military police officers have vanished almost as quickly as they came. And there will be no mess left inside the house. Cedric observes the almost empty dining room, just 1 or 2 officers setting chairs upright, etc.; this is a daily operation for them, clearly. What plan? Mikhael asks, greying moustache bristling with fury. The... look, mate, what Korp. are you from? I am not from company. I am from Greece. I am from Europe. I am from a good family. What plan is this you speak of?! Fucking hell... Cedric says, handing over hirs gun to another officer. Without any prior signs of hirs fast rising temper, the young officer smashes repeatedly at the table surface with hirs fists, jarring the other cheloveks present in the room out of complacency as Hir screams, not at them but at thin air. I SAID NO PRIVATE CONTRACTORS, GODDAMNIT! Why cant those stupid fuckers listen to ze properly? Always problems, always! Hir snorts. What NCL are you? Are you even with the police?! Stephanos shakes hirs head. TAKE HIR... OUTSIDE... Cedric breathes deeply. Take hir outside... with the others. Do it~ now! Hir scolds hirs cheloveks inactivity. And get rid of the bloody barge while you are at it!

Arthur is thrown to the ground, hot sand. It hurts more than Hir expects. The thin chelovek soon follows, collapsing like a pylon to hirs knees before falling forwards, soft hair flaying as Hir falls, still half smiling. They all have their arms tied behind their backs~ and the knots are well tied. It is a hot, humid day; sweat, sand and burning sol. The sky is a feverish shade

of blue. Fuck ze! The medic with the short brown hair says in disbelief, trying for 1 vtoroi to get to hirs knees at least. 1 of the officers kicks hir in the face. With a whimper Hir is flipped back onto hirs front. Some of the officers stand around, jeering at the 5 of them, talking to each other. 2 of the officers have disposable cameras out. Taking holiday snaps. Another day at the zoo. This is against protocol! Arthur chokes, trying to stall the police officers. You have to go through the proper channels if you are going to arrest us! Stephanos is held by another officer, far behind. Hirs arms, too, are being tied behind hirs back. Cedric wanders in front of Arthur, blocking hirs view. The penalty for dezertirstvo is death. We are just speeding the process up for everyone, including you. You do not want to die of Soldats Plague, do ya? Hir mocks the verrters, before kicking another bootful of fine sand into Arthur Osinas face. Involuntary euthanasia. The medic chuckles, hirs mouth still full of blood. Thats a good one. Quiet, you! The 2 mixed race cheloveks are silent, while Dan only whispers to hirself, hyperventilating. The only clear voices, other than that and mixed murmurings and laughter amongst the police officers, are those of Cedric, the medic, and Arthur Andrew Alexander Aspen. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit... You cold hearted fuck. What has this Krieg made you? Cedrics tone betrays a hint of insanity in its sincerity, chilling the hot late Spring air around them as Hir crouches down, hands in the sand, tilting hirs head, bringing hirself right in towards Arthurs face. Do you know... how much money... we get paid for picking up a single verrter out here, dead or alive? There is a fresh pause as Aspen fails to answer. 10,000 a pop, and in the present Kahou, that is a veritable fuckload of cash. If you were ze... you would do exactly the same thing. I very much doubt that somehow. Arthur retorts. Cedric ignores hir, standing up. How many times... Hir shouts, ...have you stood in foreign houses, standing over quivering Kiji citizens, nobodies, people that no one will miss, and thought... what is the difference? What is the fucking difference? Who cares, and, really, what is the difference between any of us, too? After all, it is a paycheque world we are living in, comrade, and the prizes are ours for the taking. Doesnt matter who it is, Perlonzii or Kiji, who is disadvantaged by business plans. Arthur is almost snarling as Hir breathes now. Cedric gestures towards hir. I mean, you look experienced enough. Were you at Ulsan & Busan? Were you at Tsushima? Stephanos is silent in the background throughout. I was stationed in Ulsan... for a mesyat. Arthur admits, still angry. Then you know how useless morality is in a world where cheloveks can have guns or earn money. You were at Ulsan? The medic coughs. Most of the police officers have fallen silent. Mid July to mid August. 2173. Get a big bonus for those activities, then, did ya? After being disciplined in as minor ways as possible, and the public calming down and conveniently forgetting their outrage, again? Take off those clothes. We dont want any redwater stains left on them for the next lot, coming tonight. Busy busy busy... The brief silence after Cedric speaks is punctured abruptly as a prolonged thunderstorm of

bullets sends hir flying backwards, blood coating the sand. Police officers collapse all around as waves of machine gun fire hit the standing crowd, leaving the captive cheloveks on the stock thankfully intact. But several officers have dropped to the ground too, and begin to fight back, shooting at the huge, barge like vessel and the great Samoan firing the gun from the stern of the watercraft. Caught up in the daily raiding of Prince Johns home, none of the police officers noticed the chelovek sent to move the vehicle get killed by Stephanoss 1st mate. The Greek takes hirs chance and rams the chelovek behind hir in the stomach. Hir frays the ropes tying hirs hands on the edge of the insensible officers visor. Arthur struggles to get to hirs feet before Mikhael frees hirs hands with a knife taken from the chelovek who was previously restraining hir and moves on to hirs new friends. Arthur looks down at Cedrics horrified, pale stare. Important lesson, comrade: always make sure you are the only chelovek in the room with a gun before you start aiming yours at people. Hir pauses amongst the crossfire. Because if you do, youd better hope you are the best shot. More gunfire. What do we do?! Arthur shouts over the bullets. There are still about 20 police officers left alive. They are firing and being fired at. Everybody crack kaki from the dead ones! The medic calls out, taking dibs on a police rifle lying next to one of the mixed race cheloveks. Arthur follows suit, picking up 1 of the cumbersome guns. How do these work again? Mikhael Stephanos cups hirs hands over hirs mouth to shout to Espe. Maleko is opening the hold! Arthur looks again at the barge and sees the back end opening forwards towards them even as the barge floats in the shallow water. Are you nuts? It will sink! Arthur shouts back, firing at hirs own, black clothed countrymen. The Valiant will take... where all want to go. Do not worry. Hir finishes, grabbing another gun, near hir. Shots fly overhead; reinforcements are arriving, through the trees. Let us go! Go! Picking up a smaller handgun in preference to the rifles the others are wielding, Arthur sees more heavily uniformed figures stumbling onto the beach. Are they expecting the escaped syn of Walter Osina? Well, here Hir is, but Hir is not staying for long. The deserters have all managed to get to their feet by now, and now all 6 cheloveks begin to run, facing backwards, towards the water as the contour of military police officers gets closer and closer still. Arthur feels hirs heels touch the water 1 at a zeit, and does not hesitate as Hir jumps in, keeping hirs firearm above the water. Dan is not so lucky, falling full on into the water. The younger of the two Espe males hopes the Samoan does not run out of bullets anyzeit soon. The barge is starting to move away from the beach now... there must be a 3rd chelovek on board captaining the vessel. The water is getting deeper. Jump in! Maleko roars, making big gestures with hirs whole arms from shoulders to fingertips. Jump in! Hir repeats. The hold is completely open, water washing over the ramp. Facing the island, Arthur looks behind hir for 1 vtoroi to see how far behind them the barge is, and turns around again to see 1 of the mixed race verrters fall with blood flowing from hirs head. Stephanos is in front, behind Arthur now. The vessels owner grabs onto the open door/ramp as a wake begins to be produced from the barge; it is slowly gaining power. The Greek looks on as hirs passengers stumble backwards through the water towards the opening at the back of the ship. Dead? Arthur shouts to the tall medic. Both Hir and Dan nod.

Let us get in the hold, quick! A sudden burst of bullets sprays up the water only inches from Arthurs left arm, and Hir knows they have to get to safety immediately if they are to survive. Aspen is the 2nd person to reach the barge, resting hirs arms on the descended ramp before heaving hirself up. The cargo hold of the long barge is completely empty, made so especially for this trip; water has already begun to flood in, washing away decades of flakes of orange and red rust. The metal is gritty to the touch beneath hirs fingers. Let us get out of here! The medic yells, reaching out for the edge of the ramp. Is it closing already? Come on! Dan is still trying to shake the water from hirs rifle, not aware that its action has been impaired by being submerged in the seawater. Come on! Get in, now! Strange bullets ricochet off of the walls of the hold; the deserters will not be safe until the hold is fully closed again. The other mixed race chelovek, teary eyed, reaches out to the medic; Hir pulls the chelovek on board. Only 1 more to save before they can escape, then. All the cheloveks apart from Arthur have discarded their weapons by now. You can do it, Dan! Arthur shouts, but they can all see the moment where the water becomes too deep for the malchik to stand. Dan! Arthur hollers again. Come on, tovarishch! Swim! But Dan cannot swim fast enough. The hold door is grinding upwards, faster now. Water cascades down as Arthur attempts to climb up to the edge. Darkness grows in the empty, wet hold. Still hanging on at the top of the closing gap, gun in hand, Arthur peers over the side to see the blonde haired youth climbing up the overhang by grabbing onto the plaques of rust on the metal. Hirs hands are bleeding... shot at, or just cut on the oxidised metal? Aspen reaches out an awkwardly angled arm. There is enough room for 1 person to fit through still. It would take a minute or 2, but it would be possible. But at the corners, water is still flooding in, at ankle height now, and bullets clip the metal all around Arthur, the police still shooting at them, the sitting ducks, from the beach. Stephanos~ we need to close the door! Hir calls down behind hir. Controls overridden by motion sensors... wont close while there is obstruction. Hir says, laying down hirs gun in the water. Safety reasons. We will sink at this rate! The Valiant shall not sink. The medic begins to panic. You idiot! You fool! We will sink, if that door does not close soon! There is white water at the open corners of the hold. The medic swears Hir can feel the ship tipping backwards more and more with every passing vtoroi. Arthur, what are you doing up there? Hurry the fuck up and get down or else we will sink and drown, or worse, get recaptured! Arthur slides back down the upright door, looking a little shaken. I was just... checking. What happened to Dan? Dead. Hir could not reach the barge in zeit. Hir got shot by the blue tops while still in the water. Shit. 2 dead... Fuck them. At least we are safe. Hir was ages away, anyway. Slowing us down. Valiant cannot sink. Self righting mechanisms. Stephanos is lost to the background. The other surviving deserter is sitting in the frothy water on the floor of the hold, crying. OK... OK... The medic looks concerned. Before we go any further, bent nose... did you say you were stationed at Ulsan during the battle there? Yes. If you can call it a battle. Did you shoot at those deti? There is a longer pause this zeit before Arthur answers. ...No. Good. Cause... if you had answered yes then, like, I would have had to kill you, here, on the

spot. Arthur and the other cheloveks look worried. I think. I have to be honest, mate, Im feeling a little bit tetchy, even taking into account what has just happened. I havent been too khorosho since we left the compound. Maybe even before that. The bullets have not yet stopped reverberating against the hull of the barge. I know what you mean. Hir is telling the truth. There is a strange sort of looseness to life outside of the firing line now, a strange, cold emptiness, a sort of charmless quality to things. It feels as if they are satellites, not orbiting, simply falling around the earth. Almost as if things already fell apart some time ago now, and they are just waking up.

The Further Flashbacks Of Arthur Aspen

It was midnight over London. Tuesday 17th May, 2174, 10:09 (approx.) Arthur is lying below deck in the Valiant. What zeit of day is it? Hir is aching, tired still. The mixed race chelovek, whose name Arthur still does not know, is still asleep in the bunk opposite. Hir hates these beds. The deserter makes hirs way through the sleeping quarters, towards the door to the barges portside corridor. Osina opens the door and peeks out before pacing quietly across the polished planks, heading down towards the stern. Daylight streams in through the windows down the side of the passageway, now on hirs right. Several doors are placed at intervals; the barge is normally much fuller than this on its cargo transporting ventures. What is the zeit, the zeit? The day is warm but the earthbreath is strong. Arthur Espe has trouble shutting the door behind hir as Hir steps out onto the deck of the ship, about a metre wide from the door up to the gunwale. It has only been in the past week or so, what with the action being behind them now, that Arthur has been able to observe the Valiant properly. On deck, it is clear to see that the vessel is actually quite smart for its meagre class. While ancient rust encrusts the hull, and Hir has observed that layers of dust lie unperturbed over some of the instruments on the bridge further up, the wooden deck is varnished well and the roof is adorned with Greek inscriptions around the edges. This is a vessel owned by a proud familie, Hir tells hirself. The earthbreath chills the air. Arthur grits hirs teeth, walking in military fashion towards Hr. Mikhael Stephanos, who is leaning against the side of the barge. They have already passed under the Nishi Seto expy, the great gate, and through into the Huichi Nada Sea. They have even managed to avoid the Anglo Yaponskii forces in the bay of Osaka, sneaking around Awaji Island to avoid the battlefield and the Koreans~ albeit with a few stops and starts. It had been Mikhaels syn, whose name is still kept from them, who had piloted the barge during their escape. Hir is only about 7 or 8 yrs old. Maleko is elsewhere on board at the moment, below deck. Now the barge is floating past an unknown town or city, in an unknown land. The disorderly masses of small white villas with terracotta roofs remind hir of Anglia and similar places along the East coast. Arthur Osinas heart flutters at the prospect of seeing the British Isles again, and yet Hir dares not ask where they are for fear of disappointment. They wouldnt be heading that far north. The sky is peppered with small, light clouds, but none of them obscure the hot sol. They are in the tropics. Hir sighs as Hir stares down at the sparkling, azure water. Arthur cannot see hirs reflection. Morning, Mikhael. So, erm... Arthur tries to start a conversation with the captain. I was just thinking, in bed, a few minutes ago... what do you typically deal in, cargo wise?

Mikhael snorts, the sea air irritating hir. Furniture, we take furniture from Thessilonika. Furniture and other domestic items. Ah really? There is an uncomfortable pause. Aspen spies the sea foam pushing aggressively past the waterline of the barge as it moves onwards. I have not heard of that place before. Greek? How far out do you fellas usually go? Milan. And you are not bothered at all by all this? Mikhael shakes hirs head. Well, I have to say, I really admire what you have been doing for us. You could have been killed. Or Maleko. Or your~ Hey, I get paid for this, you know. Coming here. Hold was full when I first moored in Osaka this trip. Hr. Stephanos pats Arthur on the shoulder as Hir stands up. I go to bridge now. Keep your head when you get back to England, my friend. Thank you, Stephanos. Arthur says as the chelovek walks away from hir. I will. I promise. Now the medic approaches, fresh from the kitchen, stretching hirs arms. Hir is unshaven, and missing hirs Mooneyes. Arthur feels the beard that Hir hirself is growing as the tall chelovek talks. Seen Maleko about, Comrade? No. I was just wondering if Hir was making us breakfast. Are you? I will get us something in a short while. Arthur pauses again, thinking, eyes returning to the folkish seaside settlements they are passing by. Do you have any idea where we are? No... Jesus, I am hungry, bent nose. Are you sure you havent seen Maleko? Go and ask the Captain; we have had the zeit to get to know hir. Oh, fuck orf! Arthur ignores hir, looking out over the side of the barge at the water again. The effect is almost hypnotic. Where, Arthur wondered inside hirs head, have I seen that face before? Aspen reckoned that the medic had to have been facescaped upon their landing in Greater Britain, although Hir had struggled with the issue in regards to hirself~ and had probably decided against it. Hir wasnt sure. Bent~nose? Arthur tried to remember more familiar times, such as the day Siam found hir in the gutter, but couldnt. This memory kept flooding back. Hir was stuck to hirs seat, an observer against hirs will. Hir was still in too deep. Sorry if I seem snappy at all. I am still tired. The medic says. Ze too. Cabin fever, hey? Bloody hell. I will be fine once we get back to England. For now I just wish that we could get out of these horrible clothes. The tall medic says, pulling at the top lent to hir by Prince John. At least you have still got your Mooneyes. Yeah... erm, actually, they are in my bunk. Can you help ze get back to there? Sure, in a minute. Arthur grins. Oh, come on. In a minute. I want to talk to you, you weedy sod. Fine. You got somewhere for blood? Arthur asks, conscious of the problem of survival. I already told you not to worry about that. I know. But it is still an important issue. We need to figure something out. I have got things sorted.

For both of us, yeah? I have special privileges. I have the power... of knowledge. Hir taps hirs left temple with a finger. How special? Where are you from? What NCL are you? That is a little personal. But I can tell you that I, my friend, am technically NCL 0. Coercion Level 0?No such thing, mate. Well, it is an informal tag. But I am not Level 1, and I am not above Level 1, I can tell you that. You fought. National Coercion does not work like that. According to the databases, I am Level 5. Big money. But that is overruled by~ erm... look, my uncle works at the Ministry Of Defence, and my father is... involved in that sphere of things too. But because of my uncle, I know for a fact that there is some spooky, spooky stuff going on with the Five Five Contract~ but there is a much bigger problem than blood to be faced when we get back to Blighty. You see, the Kiji~ Do not tell ze anything more, then. Arthur interrupts, studying the medics long nails. I have a plan my self. You are more likely to be OK~ no offence, but, like, you are probably not largely important in the public eye, right? But I~ The medic frowns. What makes you think that? Hir asks, growing agitated with hirs lack of sight. Just... listen, I will tell you 1 thing about ze here and now, seeming as we are a little bit safer than we were back with Prince John and that psycho fella. I am the syn of somebody... well known. Not exactly a traditional Fame, but Hir is in the papers and the news a lot. Politics? Not precisely. But I know for a fact that I am going to need a scapegoat if I am going to get the Keik off my back for a while. There are not a lot of photos of ze, and Im not in the databases, but as soon as I start digging in to the deposit boxes and suchlike to survive theyre going to start looking for a trail. So, a scapegoat, yeah? A chelovek who~Pon...d...? The overhead went over a bump, and Arthur woke up for a vtoroi. Semi~conscious, Hir looked around the aerelo without moving hirs head, trying to garner some sense of hirs immediate surroundings. What had Hir been dreaming about? The seats were pink, the body of the carriage white. Posters and dox covered the side opposite hir, apart from the windows, which were blocked by navy blue blinds. A frowning business~zhenshchina in wide Mooneyes, a child, and an old, dishevelled~looking gos sat opposite hir. Hirs fellow otazunemono Siam sat by hirs side. But the image tipped, blurred. Nobody had noticed hir wake. Arthur fell back to sleep, back to sweating out the demons, into the feverdream. Wednesday 25th May, 2174, 10:35 (approx.) 2 figures scramble across the mud and sand, tall, thick patches of Marram grass around them, as the Valiant reaches for the horizon. Both cheloveks carry guns. 1 of them is tall, the other short with slightly froglike eyes. It is a clear day, but pretty breezy. Home. Arthur Aspen croaks. Nothing quite like it, is there? The taller chelovek says, inhaling a deep breath of Pearly British air as Hir leaps up the sloped bank to the beginnings of the mighty floodplain. Hir grins before turning towards hirs fellow verrter. Can we swap names yet? I would like to know who I have been travelling with for the last mesyat. We are not safe yet. Arthur says suspiciously, scanning the sky instinctively. What, out here on the Floodlands? I am the syn of an MP, I will tell you that much. Oh,

come on, bent nose! I can tell you now that we are not being watched~ can I explain to you this whole MOD deal yet? No, no, no. That would put my whole plan in jeopardy! The smell of the Pearly British coast. I do not like the sound of this plan of yours to escape the nose of the Keik if you need to be so damn secretive about it. It is not very trusting. I will talk to you more properly once I have actually enacted it... if youre part of a big political family or something, as you claim, then I think you should do the same as ze. Wait til you see it in action. I can not be sure... Arthur mounts the floodplain first, still facing the medic. So, what are you going to do when we get back to London? Arthur says, trying to lighten the mood just a little. Gonna buy a Cornish pasty. Proper one, none of that dehydrated shit from Yaponiya. Espe nods. I am going to find all the zhenshchinas I can and~ The medic reaches Arthurs own height. Wowzers! Look! The taller chelovek says, pointing ahead. Arthur turns around. The Floodlands, unfamiliar to the 2 city cheloveks, are a magnificent sight. There is nothing but unbroken green, forever and ever beyond and on either side, a sea of almost luminous medium to long grass moving in turbulent, sunlit bands in the earthbreath. Easy to get lost, further inland. But the MPs syn is pointing past the grand expanses of the eastern Floodlands, focusing on their distant home, a silver speck balancing on the edge of the horizon. London. Arthur acknowledges the citys existence once again, briefly glancing to hirs left to try and spot any break in the rolling grass to identify the mouth of the Thames. It is impossible to see over the grass from this low altitude... are they approaching the city from the northeast? Returning home after such a long zeit is a strange, strange feeling. There is the sound of a low pitched diesel engine in the distance. Sounds, somehow foreign to the 2 deserters now. We will need to wangle our way past the power station, and avoid the Basildon tracks in case any trains go past and spot us, but this is basically it. The longer Arthur looks, the more Hir spots larger pieces of rubble punctuating the landscape, remnants of a lost world. There is a reason nothing but grass grows here, Hir reminds hirself. The soil is contaminated by the tonnes of waste and debris embedded in it. Where is the power station? Walters sohn asks. I have been trying to find it for bearings, but~ Right up ahead. The medic points to an object in the distance that almost blends in with the sky, a white dot to the right of the city. It too is close to the horizon. Up in the sky, altocumulus and stratocumulus mingle. Above the city the anvil of a cumulonimbus is beginning to form, guarded on either side by childlike, lighter convection cells all forming along a single front heading towards them. A dark velum cloud trails in front of the gathering storm. Heck, that is miles away! Yep. But it looks so far out looking out from the city! It is. We have got quite a yomp ahe~ Hir stops. Arthur hears something, perhaps voices, and the medic steals the lead in turning to look 1st. Arthur feels a hand yanking on hirs shirt as the taller chelovek reduces hir to

crouching height amongst the long grass, which smells a little of burning wood. Arthur does not cry out, for Hir instantly sees the cause for the medics actions. A black and chrome police boat, much more sleek and modern than the ones used by the British back in Yaponiya, is powering through the water, bouncing over the waves, keeping parallel to the shoreline and no more than a hundred ft away. Keep your finger on the trigger, shipmate. The medic says, giving Espe a walloping great pat on the back that nearly causes hir to make a sound. We are not free cheloveks yet.

F L A S H B A C K S
contains violence, swearing, corruption, melodrama, death, murder, attempted murder, involuntary euthanasia, boats, war, disease, guns, close calls, epic escapes, sociopaths, heroes, villains, plants, trees, sun, facial hair, flashback sequences, chase sequences, army bases, islands, foreign countries, stars, women, men, gender~neutral pronouns, danger, deserters, killers, creeps, and more including shoot~outs, double~crosses, and perhaps even a Somali safehouse~keeper with poor dental hygiene, and delusions of grandeur to the point of mental illness, thrown in for good measure.

THOSE CHARMLESS PEOPLE is available in full for Amazon Kindle and other Kindle models at the following url: amzn.to/ZCwkFq

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