Maquis
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2017 by starfiend

Portsmouth. November. 28 months after the Palace Extraction.

“SHOP!”

Jack Carlton looked up, startled by the call from the front office. Quickly, almost furtively, he dropped a cover over the display panel of the gadget he had been studying, before hurrying through to the front office. “Robbie!” he exclaimed at the sight of his old friend. Jack and Robbie, though close friends, and only living a few miles apart, hadn’t seen or talked to each other for many months. Jack frowned slightly at the other man’s expression. “Robbie? You okay man?”

Robbie nodded slowly. “I hear you got gold for sale.”

“Small amounts yeah. Not much though. People been selling for cash. You know there’s no jobs around. People selling up their bits and bobs. You know, anything they got lying around. Why? You sellin’ or buyin’?”

“Neither,” said Robbie slowly. “I just figured folks was wrong. Never figured you for a thief.”

“Thief? Me? I’m no effin’ thief. Oo’s been sayin’ I be a thief?”

“People was saying you were sellin’ gold, but no one knew as to where you got it. They drew their own conclusions.”

“Well I told you where I got it.”

The two men, friends for the best part of fifty years, stared at each other. After a few moments Robbie relaxed and nodded. “That’s okay then. Didn’t want to believe it, glad it ain’t so.” He relaxed and looked around. “So how’s the business? Wouldn’t have thought a scrap merchant would be doing much in these climes. This new government must be making life hard for the small operator.”

Even though it was a complete accident, this was too close to Jack’s ‘secret’ for comfort, and before he could stop himself, his hackles rose again as his paranoia re-surfaced. He realised it was a completely chance remark and quickly suppressed his reactions, but Robbie, ex-Military Policeman that he was, noticed immediately. His suspicions were aroused once more.

“Jack! You’re up to something. Come on man, give. You know you never could hide anything from me.”

Jack sighed. It was true. He could rarely hide anything from Robbie when Robbie was on the hunt. “Lock the front door,” he hissed, and turned for the back room again.

Robbie locked the door and followed the other man through into the Aladdin’s cave hidden behind the front office and reception. He walked in and stopped in shock at the sight in front of him. “Well bugger me sideways,” he said slowly. “What’s happened? Where’s it all gone?” He’d been in here many times over the years and had always been amazed at the sheer variety of junk that could be found here. Some of it was even borderline useful, but now the large barn was practically empty.

There was a small amount of junk scattered around the room, but otherwise the place was empty apart from some large crates at one side, gas cylinders of various sizes and colours on the other and what looked like an old fridge against the back wall, half hidden by a piece of tarpaulin.

Jack was heading towards the fridge, and flicked the covering out of the way. “You gotta see this,” he muttered. “Someone left it out the front about a year ago. It were addressed here, but fuck knows why, as I hadn’t asked for it. I guessed it were a wrong delivery, but it’s sure come in useful.”

“Why? What is it?”

“Some sort of Federation techno I’m guessing. An’ I’m also guessing it shoulda gone to the Naval dockyard other side o’ town. Somewhere like that anyway.” He tapped the front and the screen came alight, though all it said was ‘Ready’.

“Oh,” said Robbie, smiling, “it’s one o’ them matter converter thingies, you know, a creator thingy,” he snapped his fingers, desperately trying to remember the word. “Replicator,” he announced after a few moments of deep thought.

“Oh.” Jack just looked startled. “How do you know that?”

“Our Joan has one in her tea shop. Only a small one. This one looks bigger. What are you using it for? You making gold?”

“What do you think I am? Stupid?”

“Well, no, that’s one thing I don’t think you are. Never did. So what are you doing with it?”

“Uh. It’s like this, see. I always assumed I shouldn’t a had it, so I was just careful what I used it for. I didn’t ‘make’ anything with it, not if, by that, you mean turned out new manufactured product. But it seemed to me that if I put in my junk and got it to output all the raw materials, I could possibly sell those on to people who want that.”

“Like what?”

“Well. All them old car tyres? I turned those into rubber pellets and flogged them off to the local council to put round the kiddies play areas. All the glass jars and bottles are turned into glass beads. All the colours are kept separate. Some I flog off to various glass blowers and the like for their arty farty stuff. Actually some of it’s quite pretty. The rest is in one of them skips over there. Plastics likewise get turned into various pellets and stuff. I been selling some to that business over on Crendon Street that produces milk cartons for the local dairy.”

Jack was getting warmed up now, he’d so wanted to tell someone what he’d been doing, but had been afraid he’d get into trouble for having technology that he shouldn’t have had. “Most metals are separated into their basic elements, though stuff like brass and bronze I don’t split into the base copper, tin and zinc. Small amounts of gold does come out, but I make sure none of it comes out better than it went in. Generally no more than nine carat, with the odd bit of eighteen and twenty one carat stuff now and again. Precious and semi precious gems are separated out, but in the whole year I think I’ve only got about a few dozen carats total weight of all gems. Doubt they’ve made me more than a few hundred quid. If that.

“Petrol and diesel an’ paraffin and stuff like that get separated out. The diesel just about keeps the Landrover going, and the petrol does for about half the Missus’ mileage. Paraffin I give to old Mrs. Jenkins at the post office, you know she still uses a paraffin heater in her cottage? Sadly I don’t get near enough to give her all she needs.

“Gases like oxygen or nitrogen I just vent into the atmosphere, though I suppose I could bottle it if anyone asked for it. I do bottle some other things.” He waved at the gas cylinders. “There’s helium, which I occasionally sell to the local party shops to fill their balloons, hydrogen, argon, and a couple of other gases. Out the back I have some small tanks with some other stuff in, chlorine, some acids, oh there’s a half cylinder of fluorine out there as well.”

“Fluorine?” exclaimed a horrified Robbie. “That stuff’s fuckin’ lethal.”

“So’s chlorine and some of the other stuff if it’s not looked after properly. But It’s all okay, they’re safely secured in the correct storage cylinders, an’ separated from everything else. I also got a pile of lead bricks, copper, tin, iron though to stop that rusting it’s actually stainless steel. All sorts. Wood gets turned out as either wood chips if it’s only cheap crap, or if there’s pieces of good stuff I get it out unchanged. I got a small block of good teak last month. Sold that to some artist who’s gonna turn it into a carving I think. There’s loads of good quality stuff out the back now, or in those bottles and skips, I just dunno what to do with it.”

Robbie burst out laughing. “You daft sod, Jack, didn’t you know? You’re doing almost exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“Huh? I am?”

“Yeah. You obviously don’t get out enough. Do you ever watch telly or listen to the radio?”

“Not a great deal, no. Doin’ other things. Gardening a lot, keep out the Missus way.”

“Oh, you two not getting on so well now? Sorry to hear that.”

“Oh it’s not that, we just have different interests and the like. Clarrie’s actually working part time for some loudmouth at county hall. He’s a complete arse, but he knows how to get people roused; and because I was steaming mad after our youngest had her kids ‘stolen’ from her at that royal garden party the other year, Clarrie thinks I support him.”

“And you don’t?”

“Not in the slightest. Our Thelma went into hysterics when she realised her kids had gone off into space with the Prince and Princess, but this politician,” Jack made the word sound like a swear word, “he claims they’ve all been stolen into sex slavery and carted off to the Ayrabs. Reckons there’s no such thing as the Federation, an’ it’s all a con job, a put up job.”

“Why?”

“Fuck knows. But people believe him, and now look at this new gov’ment.”

“Yeah. Neil Conway himself isn’t too bad a PM for most things, but he is anti-Confederacy, and that I don’t like. I remember you once telling me you weren’t eligible to be collected. Does that mean you actually took a CAP test?”

“Yeah,” Jack sighed. “Clarrie don’t know though. Got a six point nine, but I’m seventy so I reckons as they’ll never want me in a month o’ Sundays.”

“Six point nine means they do want you. But you know it’s now all but illegal to carry a CAP card? Very dangerous anyway.”

“I never carried it anyway. Clarrie woulda had my nuts if I had. Specially after what happened.”

Robbie frowned in thought. “This ‘arse’ at county hall, it wouldn’t be a bloke called Mike Harrison would it?”

“Mark Harrison. Yes. He owns the big factory next door.”

Robbie nodded slowly. “Ah. You know he’s one of the main leaders of this new Truth And Freedom party?”

“Er, no? What’s that?”

“Ah well, they started off as just part of the Earth First’ers, but a coupla months ago they sort of split off to become a separate part of Earth First.”

“Who’s the leader?”

“Not sure. Conway seems to be opposed to them, so I’m guessing it’s someone like Boase or Lester. Not sure.”

“Oh, okay. Go on.”

“They’re a sizable minority though, and it’s generally these people who have been pushing for some of the more extreme stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Well, if you imagine them as the BNP or National Front, you won’t be too far off the mark. They are closet Nazis, blaming anyone and everyone for any and all problems, especially if those people can’t fight back as easily. They are the ones who wanted Irish citizens banned from voting in UK elections.” Since 1929 when the Irish Free State, later The Republic of Ireland, was formed, citizens of that country had the right to vote in UK elections. “They are the ones who wanted, and got, the new Citizen ID cards, and in with another faction, an offshoot of the old UKIP, are trying to get CAP cards banned.” Robbie paused. “Look,” he said after a few moments, “are you busy here?”

“Not really, no. Fancy a pint?”

Robbie laughed. “That wasn’t what I was thinking, but yeah, go on.”

Ten minutes later, Jack had locked up and the two old men were walking slowly towards the Green Goblin pub at the end of the road.

“Okay, go on,” said Jack.

“Well, as you know, Earth First wasn’t always a party in its own right, it was just the name of an alliance of parties and individuals. Yeah?” Jack nodded, but didn’t interrupt. “After that snap election not long after the royal garden party, those groups created a proper political party. Or tried to. In reality it’s still just an alliance of at least four, if not five or more, separate independent movements all with their own agenda. And it looks like it might just be starting to unravel.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah. I thought that as well. Not sure I can see five separate groups though. Three is about all I see.”

“Okay, what are your three?”

“Well,” started Jack slowly, thinking deeply. “I guess first you’ve got the Conspiracy Theorists. I’m not quite sure exactly what they think, but in general they say it’s all a fraud. Then you have the ‘If I can’t go, then you can’t either’ group; and finally the ‘We should be defending Earth first’ hence, I guess, ‘Earth First’. What I find interesting though, is that the Trades Unions managed to pick up on that name and used the slogan to their own advantage initially.”

Robbie gave a brief smile. “Yeah, I agree with all of those,” Robbie paused to push open the doors of the pub, and the conversation lapsed while the pair went to the bar and ordered their drinks before finding a quiet corner to sit and chat.

“So come on, name your four or five,” challenged Jack quietly a few minutes later.

“Your three groups are all fine in as far as they go, but you need to split the conspiracy theory group up. First there is the ‘It’s all a con’ group, or actually groups because even they are not all the same.” Robbie paused for a moment and sipped his beer.

“Go on. Why do you say that?”

“Well, they all say it’s a con, but some say there’s no such thing as the Federation or anything like that, instead it’s all a plot by some group or other to reduce population, or kidnap people into slavery, or kill off racial, ethnic or religious groups. Then you’ve got those who claim that there is a Federation but that they’re afraid of us so they’re kidnapping people, and presumably killing them, to make Earth weaker. The variation of that is that it’s the Federation themselves who are going to invade, and it’s a con to make us all weaker first.”

“That’s silly,” interrupted Jack. “They’ve got spaceships and transporters and whatnot, if they were going to invade they could have just done it. I doubt we would have had a hope against them.”

“If they were going to invade, yes. I agree there. If they wanted to invade. But that tells me you think the Federation exist?”

Jack nodded. “Course I do. How do you explain some of the oddities? How do you explain that contraption in my junk yard?”

It was Robbie’s turn to nod. “The ‘Federation don’t exist’ conspiracy theorists will tell you it’s all camera trickery, they’ll tell you the CIA or MI6, or Mossad, or maybe the Illuminati, Jews, Moslems, Catholics, Blacks, you name it someone else, anyone else caused it to undermine ‘our’” here he ticked his fingers to indicate the quotes, “society. ‘Our’ being defined by whoever is speaking at the time. If it’s a Moslem, then it’s the Americans or the Jews, if it’s a Jew, then it’s the Moslems, if it’s a rightwinger then it’s the commies, the blacks, the Jews. If it’s a leftwinger ... hell you know what I mean,” he sounded exasperated.

Jack just nodded. “Stop the world, I want to get off,” he murmured.

Robbie smiled briefly and nodded.

“So you’re saying that the conspiracy people are either, ‘deny it, it’s all a fraud’ or ‘deny some of it, some of it is a fraud’?” asked Jack after a brief pause for thought.

Robbie opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, eventually he gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I suppose that’ll do. Bit simplistic, but yeah. Your ‘If I can’t go then you can’t either’ group is again more than one group. In reality there’s the ‘Only my group can go’ for whatever definition of ‘my group’ you care to define. Then there is the group saying ‘Everyone should go or no one should go’. Of the two, I think the first is slightly the more dangerous. They claim that if you are not part of their grouping, be it religious, ethnic or racial, then you shouldn’t be going. In some cases it’s a bit simpler: criminals shouldn’t go, tax men shouldn’t go, politicians shouldn’t go.” He pased and gave a brief chuckle. “Actually I can agree with not allowing tax men or politicians to go, but however. I even heard some Hooray Henry claim the working classes shouldn’t go, until it was pointed out to him that these days ‘working class’ simply means those who have a job. He didn’t like that. He really meant only the rich and privileged should go. On the other hand I happen to know that he only had a CAP score of five point something.”

“Did you ever go for testing?” interrupted Jack.

“Uh huh,” Robbie nodded. “Seven point oh.” He continued as if there’d been no interruption, “and then there’s your ‘Look After Earth First’ group. Again, not strictly one single group. You have those that believe that the enemy, can’t remember what they were called now, Swarm? Think so anyway. They believe the Swarm exists and the Federation should be helping and defending Earth. Some of them actually believe the Swarm will only come here because the Federation came here, so they are anti-Federation up front. Some think the Federation should be out and out protecting us, and otherwise leaving us alone. The ‘Head In The Sand’ jobs. Like an adult protecting a child from some other adult. We don’t have the training, the experience or the equipment, they say, so the Federation should be doing it for us. Then there’s those who think the Federation should be giving us the weapons and know how as well as defending us. We would fight alongside them. As equals.

“You have the peaceniks, of course, the people like the Greens or the hippies, the soft left who think everything can be solved by sitting down and talking.” He waved his hand in disgust. “Pah. This isn’t some industrial dispute.” He suddenly sat up as what he’d said made him think of something else. “In fact, some are opposed simply because things like the replicators are taking away their jobs. Or so they claim. The Truth And Freedom party is basically a deny everything party. They are rent-a-thug rabble rousers for the most part who say it’s all a con, and that the replicators were invented right here on Earth. They want them banned because they are putting people out of work. Undermining the economy.”

“Huh. I wish. That thing hasn’t done that much for me.” Jack paused a moment and took a long, thoughtful, pull at his drink. “Actually you know, I reckon it has saved me a bit over the year, what with the cost of fuel, and on the whole it’s relatively economical to run. You know, when I first got it, it plugged into a standard three pin, thirteen amp, plug socket. Doesn’t now though. And I put the sodding thing in the wrong place. It’s a bleedin’ nuisance where it is.”

“Oh?”

“When I first got it, that back room was full, well, you know, you’ve seen it often enough. So I just dumped it in the middle to have a look at it. When I realised it needed mains power, I shifted it against the wall where it is now, simply because that was the easiest plug socket to get at.”

He took another pull at his drink. “If we were back at the yard, I’d show you something really bizarre.”

“Oh?”

“If you go around the back of the building, you’ll find the only pile of shite in the whole place now. Want to know why?” He continued without waiting for an answer. “It’s a disguise. It took me a while to notice because I don’t go around there much. That blasted gadget extended itself. Extended itself right through the sodding wall. I’m not sure I could move the thing if I wanted to now.”

“Through the wall?” asked Robbie in surprise. “Why? And how big is it?”

“Why? To make room for itself I guess. The part outside is about a four metre cube. Ish. I know part of it is hoppers for raw materials and the like, what the rest is I don’t know. The other thing is I’ve had to connect it to the three phase line in.”

Robbie just looked bemused.

Jack nodded slightly. “The mains is actually delivered as a three phase, four-fifteen volt supply. A normal residential property only gets one of those phases, plus neutral, which gives it the two-twenty to two-forty volt supply everyone knows and loves. Commercial premises get all three phases, which means I can drive four hundred volt appliances like the crusher, or the small crane, or the various saws et cetera. I still use that stuff occasionally, but only to make the junk small enough to go in, and that not so much these days. The small opening you saw inside is the same opening that was there from the start, but there’s now a much larger port at the back so I can deal with bigger stuff. An’ on top o’ that, it works a hell of a lot faster now than when I first got it. I reckon it now does in an hour, what it used to do in a day. About. Roughly.”

Jack smiled slightly before continuing. “Over the past few months it’s saved me a bit simply because I’m no longer running the cutters and stuff anywhere near as often. I’ve even made a small amount out of supplying the rubber beads to the council, the plastic beads to the milk carton people, and even the glass beads to that artist.”

“Have you done anything else? Sold anything else?”

“Well, I was asked if I had any graphite rods, but I said no ‘cos at the time I didn’t know what they were. I worked out since, that he was just after the inside, the ‘lead’, for pencils and artists charcoal and stuff, but I’ve not followed that up though. Some bloke came in last month and asked if I had any scrap ally, knocking around. I sold him all the blocks I had, which at the time was only about a dozen one kilo ingots.”

“Ally?” asked Robbie puzzled.

“Aluminium,” smiled Jack.

“Ah. And has anything else odd happened?”

“Well it’s funny you should say that.” Jack paused and frowned. “About four months ago, maybe six, I was putting stuff in, inside this was, when all of a sudden a red light started blinking on it, and it started rejecting some of what I was putting in.”

“What were you putting in at the time?”

“Smoke alarms I think. They came from that council hostel place after it was demolished. You know the one, over the other side of town, near where the A27 becomes the M27.”

Robbie frowned. “But that was demolished years ago. There’s a posh office block on that site now.”

Jack just shrugged. “Three years. They’ve been in my yard that long.”

“Oh, okay. So what happened?”

“Well, yeah, this red light started blinking, and it wouldn’t accept those things any more, but it would still take some other things. Then the following day the red light was out, and it worked as if nothing was wrong.”

“What do you think it was?”

“Buggered if I know.”

“So why is that funny?”

“Well it happened again yesterday. Then again this morning there was no sign of any problems. Almost like it had fixed itself overnight.”

“What were you putting in yesterday?”

“I had a number of old British army shells. Twenty mill cannon shells.”

“Cannon shells? Where the hell did you get those? How old were they?”

“From the seventies, late seventies maybe. I don’t remember buying them, so I’m pretty certain they were already in the yard when I took it over. Hell only knows how or why the previous owner had them. There were about eighty of them in an old cardboard box.”

“Were they DU?”

Jack looked surprised. “Dunno. Maybe. They were certainly heavy enough. Do you think it’s the radioactivity?”

“Could be. Smoke alarms often have tiny amounts of a radioactive material in them.”

“Hmmm,” Jack muttered. “So where’s it gone then? Lot’s o’ things have bits o’ radioactivity in them. I pushed a small amount of granite through the other week. Granite has a radiation level a few percent higher than the natural background.”

“Don’t ask me mate. There’s things I know, and there’s things I don’t. This one I don’t.”

“Huh,” grumped Jack. “Another pint?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Robbie sat in thought while his friend went off to the bar.

The pub was filling up a bit now, it being Friday and after seven. He looked at some of the younger people there. Many of them were obviously unemployed, just the sort of people being recruited by the more stupid elements. It gave them someone to blame for their troubles, when in reality there was no-one to blame, they simply didn’t want to actually have to get up and do something.

“Just overheard sommat at the bar,” said Jack softly as he sat down again a couple of minutes later.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently the gov’ment is gonna ban all the replicators after all. Those tits at the bar was saying as how it would make work for them. Don’t see how, as half of them have never done a day’s honest work in their lives. Nor ever intend to.”

Robbie nodded his agreement. “I was just thinking that. Most of the youths in here are just the sort to believe the crap that Truth and Freedom is peddling.”

Both men sat in silent contemplation for a few minutes.

“I think,” started Robbie, but then his eyes flickered behind Jack.

“What say gran’dad, you agree?”

A youth that both Jack and Robbie would have described as ‘a spotty faced oik’, sat down on the stool beside their table.

“Agree with what?” asked Jack politely, but coldly.

“That them there confeddy replicator things are to be banned.”

“There’s no such thing as the Federation,” said Jack coldly. “And if you don’t know that then you’ve been listening to the wrong people. Don’t you know it’s all a con?” Before the youth could say anything, Jack turned to the bar and raised his voice. “Oy. This ‘ere believes in the Federation,” he indicated the youth as he spoke.

“That’s not what I said,” answered the youth hotly, but he was overwhelmed by a number of the other people in the bar who dragged him out kicking and fighting.

Robbie just looked at Jack, his jaw dropping. But then he saw the glint of amusement in the other’s eyes. “That was clever,” he whispered. “But I think we’d better leave before they realise they’ve been had.”

Jack nodded and the pair swiftly downed their pints. “Come on, there’s a back way out past the bogs and through the car park.”

Robbie nodded and the pair left just in time as the crowd of youths came boiling furiously back inside, realising indeed that they’d been had.

The two men were back on the road, walking swiftly away when there was a yell behind them. “Oy. You. Ya shits. I’ll fuckin’ ‘ave you.” Jack and Robbie managed to speed up a little, but they were both in their early seventies and neither was anywhere near as fit as they had once been when they were in the army. On the other hand, despite two pints, they both still had their wits about them. “Only one person coming,” muttered Jack as they heard the sound of running feet behind them.

They went around a slight bend in the road and the running footsteps behind them seemed to speed up. “Now,” said Robbie a few moments later. Both men moved suddenly apart, Robbie stopping and moving against the wall to his left, Jack stepping out onto the roadway. Both men also stuck their feet out. The youth, unable to stop or decide what he needed to do, managed to jump over the feet obviously meant to trip him up, but was then suddenly hit, hard, in the back by two fists, one from either side. He regained his balance faster than either man hoped and turned to face them, an ugly look on his face.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill the pair o’ ya, ya turds.” He rubbed the small of his back over his kidneys as he spoke.

Neither Jack nor Robbie answered, instead they just watched the younger man, Jack moving slowly farther out onto the road, moving around the youth but keeping the same general distance from him. When the younger man moved towards Jack, he moved backwards and Robbie slipped along so that he was now exactly behind the youth.

“Think ya can surround me. Just two o’ ya. Ha. I could kill the pair o’ ya and not raise a sweat.”

“Of course you could,” said Robbie sarcastically. “Man like you. Know how to fight eh?”

The youth turned to glare at Robbie. “You bet I do. Bet you two old codgers never been in a fight in ya life.”

Neither Robbie nor Jack answered. They’d learned all they needed to know. He was an undisciplined bully. Probably a fairly strong one, but still a bully.

The youth suddenly charged at Robbie, thinking that the wall behind Robbie would hinder the older man. Robbie appeared to cringe, encouraging the youth in his belief, and then at the last moment stepped smartly to one side. As soon as the charge had started, Jack had himself started to charge in behind the youth, so that even though the youth managed to avoid a complete headlong crash into the wall, with Jack’s own momentum hitting him from behind just moments later, it had the same effect, and he fell moaning to the ground. When he started to get up again, Robbie hit him hard on the nose, at almost the same time that Jack crushed the younger man’s testicles with his boot. Working in a scrap yard had long ago taught him the advantages of wearing steel toe-capped boots.

There was a subdued moaning and sobbing as Jack swiftly divested the youngster of his belt and tied his hands together. Jack removed the boot laces, and then, after a moment’s thought, the boots as well. These he hurled across the road and into some waste ground on the other side. The boot laces were then used to tie the youth’s feet together.

“Next time,” said Robbie to the still moaning youth, “pick on someone as stupid as you.”

“Fuckin’ bastards,” groaned the youth.

“I think he’s too stupid to live,” said Jack. “Shall we just kill him?”

“Hmm,” said Robbie, a slight smile on his face as he pretended to consider it. “We could do. How do you fancy doin’ it?”

“Something slow and painful?”

The youth just groaned, and both older men heard despair in that groan. Jack leaned down and spoke softly.

“You are the one who’s never fought. You are a bully. A stupid bully. Me an’ my oppo here, we fought. We both served in Northern Ireland at the height of the troubles in the seventies and eighties. And we were both in the Falkland Islands. Him with the Military Police, me with the Green Jackets. You don’t know what fighting is. You’re just a nasty little cockroach that needs to be squashed.”

Robbie bent down and took hold of the tied wrists, his fingers finding, then pushing gently on both radial pulses. “What was your CAP score?”

“Didn’t take it,” the sullen answer came back.

“Liar.”

“Fuck off.”

Jack spoke again. “I told you he was a Red Cap. A military policeman. He knows tricks that can tell him whether you’re telling the truth or not. Just answer him.”

“Fuck off.”

Robbie gave a hard squeeze to the wrists he was holding and the youth grunted in pain. “If you don’t answer my question, your bollocks will get another kicking. Enough of them and we’ll have to start calling you ‘Miss’ instead of ‘Mister’.”

There was another moan followed by a whisper. “Four point four.”

Robbie stood up. “See. I told you his sort were all just a waste of oxygen.”

Jack gave a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

“What shall we do with him, leave him here?”

Jack paused and listened intently. “I think we took too long. There’s people coming, could be his cohorts.”

Robbie nodded and the two men hurried quickly away. Fortunately the road continued to bend gently to their left, so within moments they were out of sight of the trussed up youth and anyone who had been following him.

Back inside the scrap yard, the two old men almost sprinted for the door. They burst out laughing once they were inside with the front gates and door locked again.

“I’ve never understood how that trick works,” laughed Jack, “but it never seems to fail.”

“With my fingers on his pulse you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Simple. He’d been completely beaten in no time flat, by two ‘old codgers’, his words. He was broken, didn’t have the will to fight, so he believed me. He believed that I was somehow reading his pulse and could tell whether he was lying.”

“As simple as that?”

“Yep. If he hadn’t broken, there’d still been a spark inside him, or if it had taken a lot longer to put him down, it might not have worked.”

Jack just shook his head in disbelief. “Amazing. Doubt I’ll be able to drink in that pub again though. Not a great loss as far as I’m concerned, there’s better closer to where I live, but still.”

Robbie raised his eyebrows. “Any chance of problems?”

Jack considered for the moment. “Doubt it. Not sure anyone in there knew me. I’ve been in there a few times over the years, but it’s not my favourite place.”

Robbie just nodded.

Jack sobered up. “Look. Cards on the table here. What are you after?”

Robbie, too, sobered up. “Got any tea?” he asked.

Jack quickly flicked the kettle on and while they were waiting for the kettle to boil the two sat in the tatty but surprisingly comfortable arm chairs. “Right. I came here to try and recruit you. At least. To see if you were suitable.”

“Suitable for what?” asked Jack suspiciously.

“Now now,” said Robbie holding up his hands. “You said cards on table. Don’t get defensive on me.”

Jack calmed slightly and nodded. “Go on. Suitable for what?”

“Well it’s a bit of a long story. We were talking about the various factions of Earth First. The Truth and Freedom party are basically just the most rabid of the anti-everything crowd. Claim everything is a con and our kids are being taken off to the Far and Middle East as sex slaves.”

“Huh,” grunted Jack. “Anyone who believes that is a cretin.”

“Yeah. Well. You’re right of course.”

“So what have I got to do with them then?”

“We, I, understand your missus is probably involved. I was just hoping you might sort of get involved with them to act as a spy.”

“We?” asked Jack tartly.

“Well, yes. We.”

“Tell me everything. You’re obviously not part of the Truth and Freedom party, so which bit of Earth First are you?”

“I’m not. But since Truth and Freedom in particular are trying to get the Federation banned here in the UK, I guess I’m with the ‘build our defences to the hilt’ group. The ‘get everyone prepared to fight for their lives’ group.”

“I don’t remember ever hearing of them?”

“Well, no, you wouldn’t have. That’s just a name I made up myself to describe what we are. We don’t exist as any part of the Earth First coalition; we just use them for cover. If you’re not in Earth First, or a supporter of it, then you are the enemy. Remember what,” he paused and flapped his hands, “you remember, he was the leader of the original Earth First in the UK,” he paused for a moment before looking up in triumph. “Prendergast. That’s ‘im. Donald Prendergast.”

“What about him?” asked Jack with a smile.

“Well, I know he fell early on, a victim of his own two-facedness, but at some point he basically said anyone not a member, or a supporter, of Earth First were traitors to the British people.”

“Oh. Yeah. He did, didn’t he.”

Robbie nodded. “So we hide within Earth First, or at least use them for cover, and just keep our noses clean and our eyes and ears peeled. I suppose we could also be called the ‘Pragmatists’, or something like that, but in reality we’re the underground. The Maquis if you like.”

“So what, exactly, is your group? What actually are you trying to do? More importantly, if you’re the Maquis, who’re the Nazis? As if I didn’t know.”

Robbie gave a big sigh. “I need to know exactly what you do and do not believe, particularly in regard to the Federation and the enemy. The Swarm I think it’s called. Something like that anyway.”

“Uh huh. Well I guess I believe in the Confederation.”

Robbie smacked his forehead. “Confederation. Uh. Confederation. Not Federation. In fact, it’s not even that is it? It’s Confederacy, not Confederation.”

Jack smiled slightly. “Yeah. Well I guess I believe the Confederacy really exists. Lots of ancient races out there waiting for us. As to the Swarm, I guess I’m scared it exists.”

“Scared?”

“Scared. Worried. Concerned. Yes, I’m afraid I do believe they’re coming.”

“And what do you think we should be doing?”

“Difficult. In any case, you haven’t yet answered my question.”

Robbie pointed at the kettle that had long since boiled without either of them noticing.

Jack smiled and stood up to flick it back on. Minutes later they had sat down again, this time with mugs of hot, sweet, tea. “Just right for a cold November evening. Well. Go on. Who are you fighting?”

Robbie sighed once more. “Hopefully no one, but as you said, we also believe this Swarm is coming, and in all probability someone’ll have to fight them. Although I’m setting up as a hidden force in this country, I’m not proposing we fight other humans. Not unless it becomes absolutely necessary, and if that happens, then the human race has lost, no matter what the truth of the Swarm.

“For a number of reasons, people like you are exactly who we need. In fact you were on my initial list, but others voted you down because of your wife. In fact I think that was backwards, and in any case we nearly came undone because someone else we thought would be a supporter turned out to be a traitor to the cause. One of our people got arrested. Not by the police though, by some new organisation I’ve not come across before.”

“What new organisation?”

“Dunno. I don’t even know what it’s called. Don’t know who they report to in government or anything. Doesn’t appear to be the army or Special Branch or MI5 or any of the normal people you might expect. The important thing though is that sadly our man died. We’ve also had to spirit another couple away and into hiding. For a few days it was scary, which is why I won’t be telling you about anyone else, nor anyone else about you. If your wife got suspicious and you got turned in, the only person you would be able to name is me, and with a little bit of luck either I will be well away and hidden, or dead.”

“Dead!” exclaimed Jack. “It won’t come to that, surely?”

“You saw that thug this evening? His masters are just as nasty, but they seem to have influence, and maybe a little bit of actual power. I think I’d be lucky to die quickly. Rumour is there’s torture now.”

“Shit, the Gestapo!”

“Exactly. That little thug is this country’s SA. Little more than thugs and bullies.”

“The problem with that analogy is that the SA were replaced by the SS and the Gestapo,” Jack noted.

“True. Not a nice thought.”

The two men were silent for a few moments, just thinking.

“So why am I someone you particularly want?” asked Jack after a little while.

“Three reasons. I knew you from when we were in The Regiment together and trust you from way back when. Two, your business and your yard has particular use for us, and third, your wife. With care you can get us news and information. You mustn’t try and influence her, just appear to support her and help her and even agree with her. Join in. Don’t ask questions though, let her talk. All you have to do is encourage her to talk, and then just listen.”

“Spy,” shuddered Jack.

“Yeah,” acknowledged Robbie. “It’s not a nice thought.”

“So why is my business of particular value?”

“That Confederacy gadget you have in your yard. Do you know what it can do?”

Jack shrugged.

“It’s a replicator. You give it a pattern, and it can re-create it many times over. And with all your scrap, you’ve got all the necessary resources.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “You sod,” he said forcefully. “You knew I had it, and you knew what it was and what it was for.” He calmed and took a deep breath. “You want me to reproduce something for you?”

Robbie nodded and pulled something from his trench coat pocket, and handed it to Jack.

Jack studied it for a moment. “Well, it’s the breech block of a gun, a machine gun of some sort by the look of it, but what sort I’m not sure. I don’t recognise it.”

“No? Well I’m not totally surprised. It’s not exactly new.”

Jack stood up and walked through into the back. Opening up the front port of the replicator he put it in, and rapidly pressed a couple of ‘buttons’ on the screen. Fifteen minutes later there were two more on the top alongside the original. “So what exactly is it from?”

“It’s a mark 2 Bren gun.”

“A Bren gun!” exclaimed Jack. “You’re completely insane. What possible use could a Bren gun be? It’s ancient. There’s gotta be better and more modern stuff around. You’re absolutely bleedin’ crackers.”

Robbie gave a shrug and an embarrassed grin. “Would you believe we actually haven’t been able to get hold of anything newer. But at least it’s better than the single 1928 Lee-Enfield 303 that’s the only other weapon we’ve got a working example of, apart from a few almost equally ancient pistols that is. This government has banned and confiscated all firearms, working or otherwise, so even all our shotguns have gone. In any case, the Bren was always a very accurate weapon. Light, and relatively easy to use.”

Jack just shook his head in dismay. “Crazy, crazy, crazy. But I must be crazy as well.” With that he walked over to the gas cylinders, slid the pallet holding them carefully and slowly to one side. Robbie, who had always known Jack was very clever with his hands, saw that it was on cunningly hidden castors. Jack grinned at Robbie before lifting up a newly revealed trap door that had been concealed beneath the pallet of gas cylinders. At Jack’s waved invitation, Robbie looked in.

“Why you flamin’ pirate,” laughed Robbie after a moment’s shock. He looked down in awe at seven Vickers medium machine guns, with what looked to be at least three spare barrels each and many thousands of rounds of ammunition. “And you said the Bren was old!”

Jack just grinned. “Hey, you got a Bren, I got a Vickers. With any luck they’ll both kill this Swarm.”

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