Slipping Between Worlds 11

I suppose at some point I should shove a disclaimer in. Yes, it all belongs to Terry Pratchett, and even the occasional characters and new settings I've developed were ultimately shaped in moulds of his creation. But boy, I'd love to try and make some money at this if it wasn't for the feeling that (i) it ain't nice and (ii) Sir Terry can afford better lawyers than me. so I'd better work on my own voice and my own characters - as I'm seeking to do in the non-Discworld parts of this fiction.

Ankh-Morpork.

As always happens, while great things were going on that had the potential to completely change the course of the Disc, the millions of sentient beings who made up its population were changing its history, incrementally, in a million smaller and less portentous ways.

Unlicenced Thief Matthew Fagin carefully sized up the unconscious figure in the alley. The mark's clothing was unfamiliar, but it looked as if he were wearing damn good quality boots. He would have those. And something looking like a complex walking stick was in his right hand. It was worth investigating. Even so, he was proceeding with caution. Things in this city were never quite what they seemed to be at first glance.


Meanwhile, in the sword-fighting arena at the Assassins' Guild School, the two fighters bowed ritually to each other. The packed galleries above hushed. They knew something like this was going to be pretty special. The betting edged one of the two out as favourite, but only just. And for once, the unfavoured fighter was the Guild's sword-fighting teacher, Madame Emmanuelle-Marie Lapoignard les Deux- Épées. The smart money, given the nature of the bout, was on Koukouchou-sama, Miss Pretty Butterfly, the Teacher of Agatean Culture and Language.

The two fighters were dressed in the white pyjama-like gi, barefoot, and distinguished only by Butterfly's black belt of a seventh-djim sensai of the art. In contrast, Emmanuelle, although a fast learner, had only attained the red belt of the fourth-djim. On paper, the bout was Butterfly's.

The bokken swung and met in a dull thud. By agreement, they were not using the lethal katakana, the killing sword of the samurai. Instead they were using the practice swords, which were in hardwood, of the same length, shape and balance. But they could still bruise when they hit.

For the next half-hour, the watchers were treated to sword-fighting Agatean style, delivered with sublime grace and speed and athleticism. Butterfly's only sword-fighting experience had been with Agatean weapons; Emmanuelle by contrast was skilled in the Quirmian épée, the Überwaldean duelling schlange, the Klatchian scimitar, the Morporkian cavalry sabre, and a host of other bladed weapons. Her breadth of expertise was quickly adapting both to an unfamiliar weapon, and the formal conventions of its use. Emmanuelle was not jealous of her talents, and was teaching Butterfly sword-fighting in the Central Continent style, in return for master training in kendo, the Way of the Sword.

But their training bouts always drew admiring watchers, students, staff, and fully licenced Assassins alike.

The reason was not hard to see. The two women danced and leapt around the practice area at a dizzying speed, the wooden swords meeting, clashing, and deflecting blows that could have lopped off a limb, often at the very last second. It also helped, of course, that they were both very easy on the eye, a reason why some older Assassins had discreetly brought opera glasses.

Lord Downey was slightly disgruntled when the official message from Vetinari arrived towards the end of the bout, with Butterfly leading marginally on points. It demanded his presence at the Palace, with no great rush.

He sighed, and tapped Mr Nivor on the shoulder.

"Tell me how it ends, would you? And if it comes down to it, collect my winnings for me?"

He left, regretfully, to answer the summons, accompanying the Dark Clerk who had delivered it.

A few minutes later in the arena, a sweat-slicked Butterfly made the first of two errors that would decide the bout. She landed awkwardly, and after forty minutes of intense fighting, slipped and fell.

Emmanuelle then made the second error.

She attempted to win the bout in the Ankh-Morporkian manner, placing the tip of her sword to Butterfly's exposed throat.

But this bout was to Agatean rules. As Emmanuelle spoke the first syllable of "Do you yield?", Butterfly's sword swept up and struck Emmanuelle's under the hilt, hard, knocking it from her hand and disarming her.

Knowing she could not possibly retrieve it, Emmanuelle smiled philosophically.

"I yield." she said, simply. "Je me rendres".

She helped Butterfly to her feet, and both stood, breathing heavily. Then they bowed deep to each other in the Agatean manner.

This was followed by a long delighted hug, in the Morporkian manner.

The galleries burst into standing applause, and the first betting winnings were passed over, with the Guild-approved degree of good grace and gentlemanly behaviour. Well, it was taught to Guild pupils.

"Emmie-chan, you nearly beat me there. Several times!" said Butterfly. "I shall have to think of advancing you to the fifth djim!"

"Next time with sabres, ma chêrie!" Emmanuelle declared. "We will see how far advanced you are with those!"


Fagin was carefully approaching the unconscious mark, noting the strange multicolour motley of his clothing. Some sort of Fool's rig? If so, it was strangely muted. Patches and streaks of beige, brown and black on a green base. What sort of Fool wore that?

He stopped dead. The mark was groaning and stirring. He ducked into a patch of darkness to observe. He still wanted those boots. They looked just his size. And the walking stick near him. About two thirds of the way along its length, there was a mechanism of some sort, with an obvious trigger. Fagin frowned. Some sort of slapstick?

And then the stranger sat up…


The exploratory party inside the Hive fanned out into what Rincewind could not help but suspect was the main stomach of the thing. And the thing about being inside a stomach was that sooner or later there would be digestive acids. That was why he couldn't trust the Omnian story about the prophet Nonpo, who had allegedly spent nine days inside a whale's stomach before being vomited up onto a seashore. Either the whale had been seriously off its food, or there can't have been much left of Nonpo when he left the whale. The alternative exit route was more likely, as Rincewind suspected Nonpo must have been down on his luck to Rincewindean standards. That method of being expelled from a whale, he could accept. Especially since a God had put him in there in the first place, and those buggers had a fairly basic sense of humour.(1)

Rincewind jumped as he heard something scuttle, overhead. The Assassin, Arthur, loosened his sword in its scabbard.

"I heard it too" he said. "Probably rats".

But something in his face said otherwise.

Elsewhere, Johanna looked over her shoulder.

"Where are the dwarfs?" she asked Angua. Angua looked back to the entrance tunnel, where three excited Dwarfs were discussing the intrinsic tunnel-supports the thing built into its tubes as standard.

They were animatedly discussing how this could revolutionise tunnelling. And these plates, right, they interlock, so the pressure of earth and rock from outside makes them lock tighter! Just wait till this gets out!

"If we can remember we belong to the Watch, please!" Angua shouted, loudly. "You can be Dwarfs again when you clock off!"

They ran forward to join the rest of the party. There was more overhead skittering and scratching in the squared-off tubing.

Johanna gathered her student Assassins and spoke to them urgently.

"Do you remember the lecture I organised for you, with Mr Wee Med Erthur?" she reminded them. "He spoke to us ebout his job. How he hes to set end light to up to a dozen bombs inside a wesps' nest, fighting them ell the whole, making sure he escepes before they blow. I em esking you to set large charges in this place end put them on time-fuses, so thet they will explode efter we leave. You hev done this many times in training, do not forget. This live essignment should pose you few problems, provided you remember your training. This will be easier for us than for Mr Erthur, es et the moment, I perceive no wesps. Let us consider where to plece our charges. Ideas, please, mr Kerrigan?"

Johanna and her students looked up as something skittered in a pipe immediately above them. It appeared to be following them.

"And es one of you lays a charge, another stends guard with their pistol crossbows. If you hev not loaded, do so now. Sefety cetches off!"

Ponder Stibbons was dutifully reporting back to the HEM as ever stage progressed.

"Student Assassins are setting demolition charges now, under the direction of Miss Smith-Rhodes. Over.

"We are aware of the noises in the overhead piping that the previous exploration team reported. So far we are under no threat. Over.

"Professor Rincewind and Sergeant Angua have returned to the position where the city eggs were found. Over. There appear to be up to a thousand of them there now. Over. Constables Brakenspear and Littlehampton are standing by and will destroy them on your orders. Over."

"Stand by" the distant voice of Vimes requested. "Take no overt action yet. I advise awaiting for the A-Team to complete setting their bombs first. Johanna, how much time does the fuse give you on that Agatean Fireclay?"

"Five, ten, fifteen, or twenty minutes, Mr Vimes." Johanna advised. "They are chemical fuses, so once ignited, the reaction cennot be helted. I edvise setting for twenty. This ellows time to safely evacuate the area".

There was a muffled distant conversation at the other end of the line. Then a new voice said "Proceed with all due speed, Miss Smith Rhodes. What was it now, ah yes, Rupert."

"Roger, sir!" said Drumknott.

"Indeed, Drumknott. Roger it is." said Vetinari.

"Whatever you've got to do, do it fast!" urged a Vimes voice.

Johanna nodded to her students, and walked round checking the placement of the bombs, altering the position of one, and telling the students

" The longest fuse length. Remember. Twenty minutes."

Her students produced the chemical fuses, which resembled corrugated metal tubes with a series of kinks in. Each of four bulges represented a five-minute interval. Break the one nearest the bomb, and it blew in five minutes; choose the fourth and the chemical trigger had to remorselessly burn through four stages before hitting the explosive. Johanna checked and nodded, pliers were used to break the fuse open, and they were inserted into the bombs.

Now it was a race against time.

Fighting the oppressive feeling that they were being watched, and realising that for some reason it was getting hotter in there, Angua called forward the Watch dwarves with the flamethrowers. She then motioned everyone else back towards the exit. Ensuring the Dwarfs were covered against attack, sle reported back to Control.

"Fuses set, sir. Estimate seventeen minutes left before demolition. Brakenspear and Littlehampton are in position to destroy the eggs. Roger. "

"Proceed, Sergeant. Roger."

"Order given, sir."

Rincewind and the rest recalled only the blast of fire and the sudden choking sensation as available oxygen was diverted into feeding the furnace. Within seconds, a compensating wind was howling into the cavern from outside to replace the spent air.

"All eggs scrambled, Sergeant!" Littlehampton reported.

Angua was just about to vocalise "Let's go!" when she heard the muffled scream and saw Rincewind, taking advantage of their inattention, racing for the exit.

Then they all heard the enraged scream, which seemed to go on for a very long time, scrambling their thoughts. It was coming from all around them…

"Let's go! Out!" she mouthed, unheard over the noise, but she made emphatic "out of here!" gestures with her free hand.

And then the pipe above exploded. The things were surgical-appliance pink, appeared to consist of tentacles surrounding a screaming mouth, and leapt at speed at the party, trying to cut them off from their exit. Assassin crossbow bolts plastered several into the walls. Desperately flying swords threw them aside, but it was like trying to hit fog: the things skittered back into the attack. Johanna found her whip was useful – she was used to hitting moving targets, and a Boor whip applied with extreme prejudice had the strength and slashing power to rip several into smaller pieces, which dropped and did not move again. She found short, controlled, slashes were best for chopping them up in mid-air.

Four or five of them latched onto Watch constable Littlehampton, who screamed and tried to brush them off against the walls. They appeared to have a particular hatred for him, the Dwarf who had just toasted their eggs. Even though Johanna and others frantically tried to fight them off, more and more landed on the luckless watchman. Brakenspear was prudently running for the door.

"Busy little creatures, huh?" said Clarke, as he swung his sword.

Cheery was standing in front of Precious, picking off the ones that attacked low, while precious swiped the high-fliers out of the air. Johanna approved of the technique, then went back to her own fight.

"Ponder? " Johanna shouted, as she fought. "No offence, but you are a useless mouth now! Get out! Get out now!"

Shaken, the wizard made his way towards the tunnel mouth. He was swinging the omniscope in a slow regular arc, so that the people at Control could see what they were fighting. A disembodied voce was shouting "Get out! Now! Get out, now!" down the omniscope link. One of the pink tentacled things leapt for him, mouth open to show vicious teeth, joining in the scream of Hive-rage.

Without conscious thought, Ponder pointed a finger and threw a spell down its throat. It exploded in a mess of pink goo. A distant voice bellowed Well done, that wizard!

Arthur Clarke and a student Assassin were desperately trying to chop the things off Littlehampton. Ponder relayed a screamed order from the omniscope -

"Stop them! The tank of flame-chemical is on his back! Chop into that and it will explode! If air gets to it, it explodes!"

"Put your swords down!" screamed Ponder.

"Then what are we supposed to use – bad language?" shouted the student.

They reluctantly stopped chopping, grabbed an arm each, and pulled the feebly writhing Dwarf with them, the nozzle of the flamethrower dragging uselessly.

A student tried to attract Johanna's attention, to draw her down from a fighting frenzy.

"The bombs, miss! Eight minutes!"

Johanna nodded, and began the retreat to the exit.

And then the dead tubes that had once been the Queen leapt into life. Igor had been fighting with a surgical scalpel in each hand, using them with deadly efficiency. He had taken time to imprison one of the things in a large sample jar from his kit.

But he was right underneath the wreckage of the Queen when she lurched into waking efficiency and trapped him in her coils. Lifting him off the ground, a new tentacled sucker descended. It had a star-fish shaped bulge on its end. To the horror of those watching, it clamped over Igor's mouth. His eyes bulged, and he stiffened. Johanna and several others tried ineffectually to chop him free.

"Five minutes, miss!" screamed a student Assassin. "There's going to be a smoke-cloud the size of Quirm over this site if we don't hurry!"

Johanna nodded, and continued chopping. Angua screamed, ripped one of the things off her arm, noting it left a circular sucker-mark, and threw it down, stamping on it. She felt nameless gunk squelch sickeningly between her toes. They don't seem to care I'm a werewolf, she thought. They're about the only animal that doesn't!

She carried on waving people upstairs, Assassins, Watch and…

"Mr Stibbons, get out!" she shouted. "There's nothing more you can do here!"

Ponder nodded. He had just relayed the pictures of the Watch Igor struggling with the Queen.

"Ponder, go!" Johanna yelled. "I'll follow!"

Reluctantly, he made his way out.

Johanna and Arthur Clarke kept hacking at the Queen, severing tubes and watching as her sudden pink colour faded back to grey. Then she died and Igor collapsed to the floor. He still had the starfish-thing stuck to his mouth, but appeared alive.

"Less than a minute? " Johanna said, taking an arm and beginning to run.

"Feels that way" agreed Clarke.

"Then we run."

She grabbed Igor's kit-bag with the other, and they ran, exploding out into the late evening sunshine.

Angua had gathered everyone together about a hundred yards away. But the ground began to undulate and rock even as they ran, There was the first of a series of distant muffled booms, and Johanna and Clarke threw themselves flat.

Ponder Stibbons made an omniscope record of the end of the Hive. It recorded the last three people leaving, two Assassins half-dragging a third black-clad body. The ground behind them heaved and surged upwards in a cloud of earth and dust. A blast of fire and flame surged upwards through what had once been the entrance. Then it settled again, leaving a crater. There was the distant tinkling of windows breaking. After a brief interval, Johanna and Arthur Clarke stood up unsteadily and dusted themselves down. Then they remembered, and picked up the body of Igor.

"Littlehampton's dead." Angua said. "We killed all the creatures that were clinging to him."

She indicated a patch of scorched earth.

"We made sure of them with the flamethrower. What's happened to Igor? Yuk, what's that thing on his face?"

"He seems to be breathing alright" said Clarke. "But we need to get him to hospital. Get that thing removed."

"It's stuck fest" Johanna reported.

"Ponder ran the omniscope over Igor's face. A voice spoke.

"Get him to the University, laddie. And fast. We'll get Mossy Lawn over, but something tells me this needs isolation".

Ridcully.

"Is Commander Vimes there?" Angua asked. She felt suddenly tired and needed to make a report in. And a Watchman had died under her command. That made it worse. And Igor was wounded. Johanna patted her on the shoulder, sympathetically. Angua looked up to her.

"And the worst thing of all, Johanna, is that I stamped on one of them. In sandals. I'll never be able to clean it from between my toes!"

"Well, there's enother good reason to wear boots, then!"

Another thought occurred to Johanna. "They might hev hed ecid blood, or something. That's one thing!"

Angua grinned.

"We've made this site safe for property developers. It must have a substantial dollar value attached to it!"

Captain Carrot came to the omniscope. Angua reported the evening's events, and the dead and wounded. Carrot looked sympathetic.

"You did well." he said. Look, the Patrician and Mr Vimes had to rush off to the Palace. I don't understand it completely myself, as yet, but there's been a major incident in the City."

"Apart from ours, you mean?"Angua asked. "And I am safe and well, Carrot, thank you for asking."

"There are Watch wagons coming out to pick you all up." Carrot continued. "Sit tight. We need all bodies out on the streets and searching, tonight. Apparently – is Professor Stibbons there? - there's been a major breakthrough from Roundworld. People. Armed and dangerous people. With gonnes."


(1) Rincewind had once explained his point of view on religion to two initially enthusiastic Omnian missionaries. One had got drunk for a week and declared a new attachment to atheism. The second had run away and joined the Klatchian Foreign Legion to forget.

Quotes are from Alien 2. The role of Ripley was shared by Angua and Johanna, with other roles played by members of the cast.