The Price of Flight – part seventeen.
Recall.
After my brush with that emissary of Pestilence called Covid-19, let's get back into it now my enthusiasm is back.
In which Olga realises an Arms Race is going on between the two Superpowers.
The Flying Sheep of Syrrit are discussed more fully in The Compleat Discworld Atlas (canonical) and have a cameo appearance in my tale Gap Year Adventures.
V0.3, awaiting more of the typo corrections I spot, and those nominated by eagle-eyed tidying.
Thank you all for kind reviews and I promise I'll get round to actually answering them sometime soon!
Omakotitalo, near Korvessa, in the Swommi Country.
The Swommi lands are a long way away from Ankh-Morpork. To the widdershins of Nothingfjord and Hubsvensska, with the Scattergut peninsula and its archipelago of islands (the furthest of which is simply called Island) a couple of days' voyage by longboat across the chill Widdershins Ocean. The Swommi Country marks what in older times had been the furthest reach of the Rodinian Empire. Tsars in times past have looked to bring this place under the wise and just rule of the Empire. And failed, miserably. The Swommis are proud of this, and are prone to snark when considering the ruin and disintegration of the Empire.
"Well. We're still here. So, perkele."
The nearest thing to a capital city used to be called Ny Ingentingsfjord, founded by Hubsvensskans. Today it has a Swommi name which is routinely corrupted by outsiders to Hell's Sink.
Hell's Sink is actually a really nice place to live. Visitors are pleasantly surprised. (1)
Outside the city and the few towns, this is a place argely composed of birch trees and lakes, with tundra as the visitor gets nearer to the Hub and the Vortex Plains.
Where the birch forest begins to open up to the tundra, and Swommi speakers are interspersed with ethnic Rodinians left over by Empire and with colonies of Hubsvensskans, where three languages and cultures meet, there is a town called Korvessa. Perhaps forty miles away, there is a farmstead called Omakotitalo. It has its own lake and the livestock here are almost uniquely Swommi.
On this summer morning, a herder is tending to her flock. She is perhaps three hundred feet up, watching her animals, looking for confirmation that there is a pack of wolves in the nearby forest that may also be taking an interest, and reflecting that being able to fly makes a lot of things easier and more interesting.
Down below, other people are watching the herd at ground level. The pilot smiles to herself, and idly reflects on the notion held by some people that the sledge of Joulupukki, the Hogfather, is not drawn by pigs, but by reindeer. This is nonsense, of course. Reindeer can't fly, for one thing.
She flew on, appreciating the clear translucent blue of the lake, the green of the summer growth, the silvery-white of the birch trees. This was pure sielunmaisema. Crossed with metsäsuhde. Life didn't get any better than this.
But because she had learnt long ago to watch the sky, she scanned for other air-users, however unlikely this seemed.
"Perkele." she said, laconically. Three specks had appeared in the sky travelling this way. And she knew exactly what they were. Having been blessed with keen eyesight, she thought she could recognise one of them by the way she flew. And she could make a fair stab at the identity of one other.
That's Pilkunnussija.What the Hells does she want?
The broomstick pilot wondered, briefly, about getting up higher and into an ambush position behind them. Just to make the point. Then she shrugged, fatalistically.
Better be hospitable.
And in the town of Alice Band(2), in the Outback, Fourecks.
Here it was about seven in the morning. The dessicating baking heat of the Fourecksian interior was only just beginning for the day. People were up and about and working: the Alice Band Air Station (3) had been ready since before breakfast.
The Flying Igor Service, as its staff pointed out, did not work office hours. You had to have a ready flight at all hours of the day and night.
The duty tek, a Dwarf who had emigrated from the Central Continent, had readied a broom for flight, and he was now dozing on the shadow side of the crew hut. The Clacks tower was at the moment dormant. Its mixed staff of humans and goblins were up there, alert and ready to collect and pass on messages from outlying farms and sheep-stations. There were no patients in the surgery, and the dispensary and medical stores were clean, neat and fully stocked. The rostered Igor and his pilot Witch were playing a hand of Cripple Mr Onion to pass the time. The bleating of sheep came from nearby along with the hum, hiss, crackle and buzz of the local insect population.
It was a typical morning in Alice Band (population 284).
The Witch lazily looked up from her hand of cards, to where a couple of goblins were performing minor maintenance on the upper works of the clacks tower.
"Got to hand it to them, Igor. Bloody Gobboes thrive in this bloody climate."
"An intherethting people, mithtreth" he agreed.
"Probably because hardly any other bastard wants to thrive out here." she remarked. "I'll raise your turtles and go trumps on elephants.."
She looked up and frowned. Three distant specks had appeared in the sky. She watched for a while longer. And recognised what they were.
"Light a fart." she said. "Wonder what they bloody well want?"
Ankh-Morpork, Pseudopolis Yard. Early morning, Dimwell Mean Time.
"Not at all, Sir Samuel." Lord Vetinari said, politely. He drew up the guest chair, angled against the short side of Vimes' desk, where he could still scan the documents the ever-attentive Rufus Drumknott would place in front of him. He rested both hands on the top of his cane and sat, relaxed and at ease. "I would never dream of taking your seat. This is the office of the Commander of the City Watch. You are the Commander of the City Watch. Therefore by the process of elimination, that is your chair, behind the desk of the Commander of the City Watch. I am merely a guest here."
He nodded at the others present in the room.
"Before we proceed, Captain Romanoff, I am happy with your explanation of the code-word "Sunray" that you use for me. That the sun is the most important celestial body in the sky, and the one to whom all other celestial bodies defer. Therefore when a short, pithy, code is required for the ruler of this city, a solar nomen is employed. I understand the reasoning."
Olga tried to look impassive. Vetinari paused for just long enough.
"And I am certain it is nothing to do with the rather amusing suspicion, held by many in this city, concerning where the sun allegedly comes to rest at night when it sets. That would be somewhat uncomfortable, as well as untenably hot."
He smiled slightly.
"Having dealt with that idiosyncracy of Air Watch argot, I am interested to see "Eclipse" on the list of emergency codewords. Please explain?"
"That is one I wish we did not need on the list. Sir, you know we must plan for all eventualities. One of those would be, for instance, if you yourself became indisposed for any reason. After all, two assassination attempts(4) left you temporarily unable to discharge your duties. On a third occasion, a magical attack left you indisposed.(5) There was a plot to depose you and replace you with a puppet ruler.(6) And during the Leshp emergency, Lord Rust relieved you of your duties."(7)
Olga paused, aware she was on dangerous ground. Vetinari watched her, attentively.
"And a long time before I arrived in this City, there was, I believe, the time of the Noble Dragon.(8) Six attempts to kill or depose you, sir."
Vetinari nodded slightly.
"Do proceed, Captain Romanoff."
"Sir, we of the City Watch are here to keep the peace and to maintain order on behalf of legally constituted authority. Should we ever need to use the codeword "Eclipse", our actions would be strictly and clearly in accordance with those objectives, to maintain the peace, and to be legally constituted authority. At least, until we can hand control back to the legitimate ruler."
She paused, and looked at Vimes. He looked back, stonily.
"Captain…Deputy Commander – Carrot helped draft what the Watch should do, if Eclipse ever goes out as a codeword."
Vetinari reflected for a too long moment. Then he smiled slightly.
"I agree. You should have procedures in place for such an eventuality." he said. "Commendable."
He turned to Vimes.
"Commander. The order of seniority in the Watch is firstly you. Then Deputy Commander Carrot. If both of you are indisposed, who takes this seat as Acting Commander?"
Vimes thought about this.
"Pessimal's filled the seat. In an emergency. And he did OK. But now we've got a clear rank structure, it should be Captain von Überwald who's third in line."
"A good choice. So after Deputy Commander Carrot, acting command of the whole Watch devolves on those of Captain's rank. Interesting."
Vetinari turned to Olga again. He scrutinised her. And nodded.
"The Watch is in responsible hands, then. And you would have to work quite a long way down the command structure, or some unspecified catastrophe would have to fall on a significant number of senior officers, before Senior Sergeant Colon occupies the command chair again. Capital. I see nothing to be concerned by."
Vimes smiled a grim smile. Changing the bloody subject, quickly was not just written on his face, it was hanging in the air in very large letters.
"Funny that Olga should have mentioned Leshp." he remarked. "This is all starting to get a little bit déjà-vu".
Vetinari looked gravely at him.
"Indeed, Vimes. The current international situation has many similarities with the one that prevailed then."
He inclined his head to Olga.
"As Captain Romanoff has reminded us, it was an occasion where I temporarily had to cede rulership of the City to Lord Rust. I believe later this morning, Lady Regina Rust will be hosting a matinée to which Lords Hargarth, Selachii, Eorle and Venturi are invited."
"They're up to something." Vimes grated. "If it was just a nobby tea-party, they'd have invited Sybil. This time, they haven't."
Vetinari smiled slightly.
"I understand Lady Rust has been heard to remark that we live in an age where women have deservedly risen to prominence in many Guilds, trades and occupations in a way which would have been unthinkable even a generation ago." he said. He looked at Olga again, then let his eyes pass over her. "The Assassins' Guild, for instance. Women are now even admitted to the Fools' Guild. "
He paused, and shook his head slightly.
"Lady Rust was then heard to remark that every Ruling Patrician, and before that, the line of Kings, has been exclusively male."
Vetinari left the remark hanging there. The other people present in the room tried not to wince and shudder too obviously.
"Well, I will know for certain later this morning what is discussed over teas and cakes. I can take any necessary action then. Now let us look to the immediate situation in Syrrit and how it is likely to have repercussions here. Sir Samuel, Captain Romanoff, you have an enhanced presence on and over the streets?"
"Got extra patrols out, sir. I have senior officers setting up command posts in likely areas, and they all have Omnicons for fast communication and response. Squads in reserve here at the Yard and elsewhere."
Vetinari nodded acknowledgement. He turned to Olga.
"I have an enhanced presence in the air. There is a strong reserve at the Air Station. If necessary I can recall those officers who are at the forward airbase, who are tasked with making the Heavy Squadron operationally ready."
Vetinari smiled slightly.
"Oh, yes. The Heavy Squadron. Which is already attracting excited speculation, despite the fact their existence has been denied and is officially still a secret."
Olga shrugged.
"Given the location of the new air staion, sir, and the nature of the Heavies, it is not exactly a secret we can hope to keep."
"Captain Romanoff, how many Heavy crews could you put into the air at short notice?"
Olga shrugged.
"At this moment, three, sir. The pilots are satisfactory, although the aircrews are not as well trained as I would like. There is a fourth who is new to the Service, and two more have been ordered from the… supplier."
"Capital." Vetinari said. "Who do you have in mind to command this squadron?"
Olga relaxed. This was Air Watch business. It meant she was not dealing with the offensively smelly and sometimes dangerous govno of politics.
"I am proposing Sergeant Popova, sir. When the Heavy Squadron is at full strength, I would also request permission to make her up to Lieutenant."
"Nadezhda?" Vimes asked. "She's one of your front-line pilots. Damn good Sergeant. The younger girls look up to her. Good copper."
"Mother Hen." Vetinari said. "Your reasoning for the choice?"
"Nadezhda Popova was among the first Air Witches to join the service when we first expanded. Therefore she has been Air Watch since the beginning. She is older than most. Older than myself and Irena. She fought in the war over Lancre and the Chalk, so she has combat experience. She is level-headed and a competent leader. Lately, she has discussed her future with myself and Lieutenant Politek. She is over forty now and married with children. She suspects her reflexes are dulling with age, and she is aware that flying is dangerous. Fast combat flying on fighters is perhaps a business for younger and physically fitter pilots, and she has a family to consider. I wish to retain her as a pilot and as a Watchwoman. An older and more mature pilot has a future, I believe, in operational command of air units which are less manoevreable, potentially a safer operating platform, and which are not intended to be thrown around the sky as a fighter pilot is."
"With one reservation, I would concur." Vetinari said. "But this is, as you say, Watch business."
Vetinari looked at Vimes. Olga raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, Olga. Call her in and we'll set up a Promotion Board." he said.
"Thank you, sir." she said. "By the way, Commander Vimes, do I have your permission to recall selected Reservists?"
Vetinari frowned.
"As you say, Air Watch business. But consider the larger picture, Captain Romanoff. We are engaged at the moment in averting a major conflict with Klatch. This is the sort of thing that will inevitably get out, not least to the Press. Whilst you are doing sterling work in managing the information that passes to the Klatchian intelligence service via agents in the Air Watch, your carpet pilots will see old familiar faces, thought to be retired pilots with no active involvement, suddenly reappearing in Air Watch uniform and being assigned duties. They will pass this on. Which will cause alarm."
Vetinari looked stern.
"Also, our more excitable newspapers will triumphantly proclaim that our Armed Forces are recalling reservists, and a major attack on Klatch is therefore not far away. Even the Inquirer is read in Al-Khali."
"Who do you have in mind, Olga?" Vimes asked. Olga told him.
"I understand the reasoning. Proceed." Vetinari said.
There was a knock on the door. A very tired-looking Victor Tugelbend was admitted, welcomed, and told to pull up a chair.
"I will get to you in due course, Detective-Sergeant Tugelbend." Vetinari said. "I take it Professor Stibbons and Doctor de Kokamainje are indisposed? No matter."
He turned to Olga.
"At the moment, I advocate more covert measures then, for instance, a full combat wing of MIG-Twenty-Ones appearing in the sky over Syrrit, navigated there by your Flight-Feegle."
He held Olga's gaze for a few seconds. Olga, who had seriously considered Irena's move to put a full combat wing over Syrrit to hold the sky while rescue brooms hunted below for Firebird and Sneguroschka, held his look and tried to present blank impassivity.
"The new MIG-Twenty-Five, by the way. Capable of far faster speeds and higher manoevrability in the air. Like its predecessor, effectively a high-perfomance combat broom built around a heavy repeating crossbow. But in this case, the pilot can reload it for herself in the sky by use of ammunition magazines, of which the broom carries six. This obviates the need to return to base when the initial load is used up."
"That is so, sir." Olga confirmed.
"Air-worthy?"
"Yes, sir. We have three, at present."
"Capital. I have ideas for them. But, and I wish to make this abundantly clear, not in the context of air war. I am proposing we use them to make a point. Sergeant von Strafenburg's not inconsiderable energies and flying skills can be utilised here."
He turned to Tugelbend.
"But in deference to Detective Tugelbend, who looks as if he needs rest, let us conclude the other business swiftly, so he can go off shift and find a bed. Your report, please?"
"Victor?" Vimes said.
Victor's head jerked up.
"Oh. Right, sorry, sir."
A detective again, Victor Tugelbend presented his report on the night's activity at the Thaumatalogical Park.
He explained as a Wizard (9), he could interpret the night's magical research for his listeners, and as a Detective he could then explain its significance as part of an ongoing criminal investigation. Vetinari motioned him to proceed.
What he described was worrying and grim listening.
Yes, the Klatchians also had omniscopes. The University at Al-Khali had a faculty of magic that trained mages. They had access to omniscopes. Therefore it was a fair bet their magical skills were at the disposal of the Klatchian Air Force. On getting intelligence reports that the Air Watch in Ankh-Morpork had got a working omniscope communicator system, it was likely the Klatchians had been - secretly - working overtime on getting a similar system for their own airmen.
"And the easiest way of getting parity and dispensing with all that tedious research and development work – well, you find the people who already have the technomancy, and you steal theirs." Victor said.
Olga had already heard a version of this from her husband, when Eddie had come home, deadbeat, in the early morning. She had made strong coffee for him, heard him out, and then put him to bed with orders not to dare think of going back to work until he'd had at least eight hours sleep. That had been the easy bit of her morning. Getting childcare for Vassily and Valentina had taken more thought.
"So how did they nick it?" Vimes demanded.
"Several possibilities, sir. But may I ask? Olga, you're absolutely sure all your issue Omnicons are accounted for?"
"Da. I counted the reserve comms units in the safe in my office. I issued replacements to Officers Budonova and Smith-Rhodes, and we checked them together. There are still eight spares remaining, and they all function. No sign of, for instance, the crucial working parts having been removed, leaving only a shell to deceive the eye, if I were to just count them, without checking. Elsewhere no theft or loss has been reported. I have put out a word that if any officer is covering up for loss of an Omnicon, she is to come to me to make a full report and there will be an amnesty. No sanction or disciplinary action. I did consider the threat of sanction for loss may, in this case, be a deterrent to our knowing about it."
"Olga, within the last year, we know a bloody Assassin got into the Air Station without anyone noticing, and damn nearly bloody well got out again, without anybody being any the wiser."(10) Vimes said. His face looked grim, as if he was considering a hundred inventively painful things to do to such an Assassin. "Admittedly in that case it was to give his girlfriend a box of chocolates, but still…"
Vimes pulled himself together.
"Is there any chance somebody might have got in, un-noticed, opened the safe, dismantled one, taken iconographs, put it back together again, and left things apparently undisturbed? That's the sort of subtle thing those buggers would do."
"I cannot absolutely rule that out." Olga said, honestly. "But my office is left securely locked when unattended. The window is locked and inaccessible, as are all windows at the Yard. You saw to that yourself, sir. As a deterrent to Assassins. Only myself and Lieutenant Politek have keys. The locks to door, window and safe are the very best, and any attempt to force them will sound alarms. It is not impossible, but very improbable."
Vimes nodded.
"We'll check, anyway. No objections, Olga? Good."
"Olga, is there an operating manual?" Victor asked. "A handbook, a maintenance guide?"
"Two copies." Olga said. "One in the safe with the spares. One is in a second, lockable, safe in the Tekniks' working area, where the schematics and manuals for all brooms are kept…"
Olga paused, as a wave of horror began in the base of her spine. The MOKOs had access to the Tek hangars.
"We should check." she said. She remembered it had been slackness on the part of the ground crews that had allowed a student Assassin called Ampie duPris to get in unseen.
Victor made a note. His head slumped again, and he jerked it back.
He smiled, reassuringly, at Olga.
"That's a possibility." he said. "All things are possible, until we can rule them out."
He gathered himself, and looked at Vetinari.
"However, by far the likeliest security breach concerns things Ponder and I discovered at the University." he said.
"Proceed." Vetinari said. He turned to the silent and attentive Rufus Drumknott.
"Tell Arch-Chancellor Ridcully he is having an interview with me? No great rush."
Victor summed up. The ultimate origin of the Omnicon system could be traced back to a magical accident during the Race into Space some years before. Where, during the launching of The Kite, one of the rare and fabulously expensive Omniscope mirrors, intended to monitor the spacecraft in its voyage, had been shattered in an accident on board the launch ship. The fragments had been meticulously collected together, and it had been discovered that they each remained in touch with each other, so that a large piece could be used as a master console and it could then be used for vision-only communication with a second fragment, on board The Kite. (11)
Quite a few years later, Professor Ponder Stibbons had seen the exciting possibilities of creating a portable communications device, which each incorporated a fragment of the original broken omniscope. Advances in Imp technomancy had enabled him to build prototypes which added sound, relayed through a speaking imp with extremely low sentience whose only function was to relay human voices, or to give an analogue impression of ambient sound in the vicinity. Thaumic relays and switches had been built in to enhance and co-ordinate sound and vision, when required. The Air Watch had been asked to trial the system. Who had loved it and asked for a production variant. Development costs and a fair price had been agreed with the City and this was now a restricted Government-funded project, the University agreeing to provide a secure manufacturing plant.
"Hold on, Victor. A mirror is only so big. And if the Wizards don't want to break any more, isn't this a finite resource? What I'm saying is, there are sixty-odd Omnicons out there, including mine. Aren't they going to run out?"
"You'd think so, sir, on first glance. But Ponder hit on a way of making the heart of the Omnicon out of a small square of Omniscope glass, about three quarters of an inch on all sides. That's all it needs, apparently, and he reckons they could go smaller if they had to, so as to conserve supply."
"It is mounted behind a magnifying lens and then a protective glass screen." Olga said. "The image is still pleasingly sharp and in good definition."
Vetinari nodded.
"Fascinating. Now tell me. Are all the remaining fragments completely accounted for?"
"We checked them together, sir. The fragments are stored in a safe at the University. There is a log book that is completed whenever a fragment is taken out to be converted into Omnicon chips. All fragments in the keeping of Unseen University are – apparently – accounted for. According to the records."
"Victor, two problems with that last statement..." Vimes said.
Victor Tugelbend nodded.
"Yes, sir. As some development work is being done at Brazeneck University in Pseudopolis, Ponder says he has no direct control over what was signed out to them."
"I'll talk to the Pseudopolis Watch." Vimes said. "Ideally, get some of our people out there. And the other little reservation?"
"Records can be forged, sir. Falsified."
Vetinari steepled his fingers.
"Fascinating." he said. "Now. Tell me. Who cuts and shapes the glass?"
Vimes looked sharply at Vetinari for a second. Then he stood up and walked to the bathroom-sized mirror hanging on the wall over a washbasin. He carefully wrapped a towel around his right hand, and then punched the mirror. Hard. Shards of broken glass flew, one landing almost at Olga's feet. She studied it, dispassionately, getting an inkling of why Mr Vimes had done this.
"Look, my office. My bloody mirror." Vimes said. "About this time of day I get an urge to punch something, and I'll order a new one. I'll even sweep up the mess myself."
He carefully freed a large shard of mirror glass that was precariously hanging in the frame. He took this, carefully, over to the desk.
"This is a completely un-magical mirror." he remarked. "But it'll do. Look here, sir. Victor. Olga. If I heard right, the Wizards cut large pieces of a broken magical mirror down into nice regular three-quarter inch squares. They'll probably take care to get as many as possible out of each bit. But this isn't regularly shaped. Is it? However carefully you do it, there are still going to be odd bits left over from around the edges that you cannot get a three-quarter inch square out of, however hard you try. If I hear you right, Victor, every fragment of the magic mirror, however large or small, remains in contact with all the others and it doesn't have to be a regular bloody square to do it. So the next question is. Who does the cutting and what happens to the leftovers?"
"I'll get onto it, sir." Victor said. He wobbled as a wave of tiredness swept over him.
"No. you won't." Vimes said. "I'll brief a detective-constable or two. That's what they're for. You will go to a crash-room and get some sleep. You're no bloody good to me if you're going to fall asleep every few minutes."
"Thank you, sir. But, one last thing. Ponder said there are hardly any Klatchian exchange Wizards at Unseen, and none of them has been near this project. He can't say the same for Brazeneck. Apparently they aren't as fussy as Unseen. Dean Henry's big on foreign students there as he can charge higher tuition fees. He wants to balance the catering bill, so they've, err, apparently relaxed the admission qualifications. By quite some way. Lots of Klatchians, apparently."
Vimes, Vetinari and Olga looked at each other.
"I'll get people over to Pseudopolis, sir." Vimes said. "Victor, thank you. Now go and find a crash-bed. Don't let me have to make this an order."
After Victor had gone, Vetinari asked Olga if she could have crews on standby for some more covert missions. He explained what he had in mind. She said she would make the arrangements and brief people. She was then asked about her own flight-plans for the day.
"Howondaland Two in the morning, beginning at ten-thirty. Two official stops. Then to return to the Air Station by one-thirty, at latest two. I will leave Lieutenant Politek in charge here and accompany the Hubwards States run, so as to speak face to face to the reservists I would like to recall. That would be less impersonal than having Valkyrie and Firebird deliver brown envelopes containing recall orders."
"Then do so." Vetinari said. "And rather than have Red Star descending on Syrrit with all fireballs blazing, it may be advisable to have her on Control duties for most of the day. I believe you call this Flying A Desk? Capital. She would, however, also be a good choice for flying the covert duties I have in mind. As her temper has cooled, she can be counted on to be discreet and professional."
Vetinari rose, and smiled a little smile. Drumknott fell in behind him.
"Commander Vimes, please attend the Palace at eleven, after I have had a chance to receive reports from others and brief outgoing Pegasus flights. Most enlightening, and thank you for your time. Captain Romanoff, I will see you and your wingmate later for your flight briefing."
And it is not even nine o'clock in the morning, Olga thought. She hoped Vetinari would not ask her about the unofficial stops she was planning in Howondaland.
Ankh-Morpork, the morning of Thursday, 6th Grune:
Errr….
There was a long pause, and the noise of a rustling paper being unfolded. Irena Politek sighed and remembered to be patient. This was a relatively new Omnicon user, and somebody who was slow to grasp new ideas in policing.
-This is… Big Wahoonie to Red Star Control. Is this thing on, Nobby?
Irena heard the poc-poc-poc noise of somebody tapping the Omnicon with a wary finger. The speaker had also sounded like somebody painfully reading a prompt from a script. She sighed again and decided to be understanding.
"Red Star Control to Big Wahoonie. Yes, it's switched on, Fred. No need to prod at it. What's the report? Over."
-Thanks, miss. Err. Growing crowd gathering at Speaker's Corner, miss. Estimate maybe two or three thousand. The speakers are talking about taking action against the Klatchians and things are getting a bit heated. Talk is of marching on Klatchian areas and throwing them out and marching them to the docks.
-You're meant to say "over", sarge. Can I have a go? Please? Please?
"Red Star Control to Big Wahoonie. Message received and acknowledged. Leave it alone, Nobby. You'll only break it. Over."
-Lots of your girls in the air overhead, miss. I'm counting at least four. Err. Done. Over.
"Acknowledged, Big Wahoonie. Stand by. This is Red Star Control to Firebird, Snegurochka, Parrot and Lancre Punch. Acknowledge. Over."
Irena received their acknowledgements. She thought quickly.
"Red Star Control to Firebird. Big Wahoonie and Goblin at Ostrich-level report up to three thousand people gathering. What's your count? Over."
-Firebird to Red Star Control. Am half-angel high over Rimwards end of Hide Park. My count is approximately a thousand. More people arriving. Over.
"Red Star Control to Flying Pigs over Hide Park. Thanks, Firebird. Proceed to quarter-angel with Lancre Punch. Just so they can see you and know we're there. Sneguroschka, Parrot. Fly a patrol circuit round the Park along the beat Nonesuch -Park Lane - Soake – Mollymog, and back to the Gibbet. Spot for any activity and report back at intervals. Acknowledge. Over."
Irena knew that there was a lot of comms interference going on in this area. She'd also been briefed on Sally's patrol report from the previous night that suggested the Klatchian Embassy was the source of the comms disruption. She wanted to hear this for herself and had used a pre-agreed form of words to get a patrol over there without alerting the Klatchians. It was something to log for the report books.
She wasn't surprised when progressively more garbled, crackly and slowed-down reports came in, intensifying the nearer the pilots got to the Klatchian Embassy. The hastily scribbled report from Ponder Stibbons had described this as something he called latency, as if even normal speech from a pilot was being inputted far more quickly than the device could output it.
She scowled. Just now they couldn't put a fireball into the Embassy roof or the top of the minaret, which were the two locations pinpointed as sources for the interference. Irena had thought about this, but was stuck for a way to make it look like a plausible accident. Again she wondered what they were playing at. She also hoped Olga had been right in her assessment that right now, the Klatchians had more to gain from passively listening, as depending on how long they'd been doing it for, they were building a picture of how the Air Watch operated, who was who, who was where, how long it took them to get a patrol up in the air and how long it took them to arrive, and all manner of useful intelligence. It was also unlikely they'd fire any system-killing spells until or unless war was declared. To do so would be an overt act of war.
Covert missions, she reminded herself. Olga mentioned Vetinari wants them. Be prepared. Irena wondered what form they would take.
"Red Star Control to Firebird. Be prepared to come off patrol for a ten-thirty Pegasus flight. Syren's asked for you to wingmate her. Sorry, Lancre Punch. Nothing against you, but you're off the Pegasus roster today. Syren says you've got a winning way with people getting difficult, and she wants you on riot-control duties. Over."
-Acknowledged, Red Star Control. New sitrep: section of the crowd numbering maybe three hundred is now moving out, Hubwards on the Soake towards intersection with Dimwell. Looks as if incitement might be happening, permission to follow. Firebird out.
"Red Star Control to Firebird. Read you. If they turn down Dimwell, the local area has a high concentration of MOKOs."
Irena thought quickly. She received another urgent message that the marching crowd was swelling.
"Red Star Control to all friends Ostrich. Reporting that incitement to violence has occurred at Speaker's Corner, and a crowd, estimated six hundred, is now proceeding towards Soake and Dimwell. Suspecting their intention is violence towards ethnic Klatchians and Klatchian property. Situation amber alert, ground presence required. Over."
Irena hoped any listening Klatchians were getting the message.
Interfere with our comms while we are protecting people. Our people, who are also your people. Do not be so stupid.
She waited a while as more Air Watch acknowledgements came in.
-Parrot to Red Star Control. Am over Hide Park at angels one. Reporting activity at the Klatchian Embassy. The Embassy Guard is turning out. Faster than the All-Blacks on a hard field. Over.
Irena acknowledged. Inside she thought From there they can't see what's going on nearly a mile away at the other end of Hide Park. But they've turned out their Guard as if they're expecting trouble from our idiots directed at Klatchians. And nobody in the air reported any runners relaying messages from the Gibbet to the Embassy. They've just let it slip for definite that they're listening in to our comms. Instant response.
She reached for a pen and wrote down her observations.
-HeadBanger to Red Star Control. I am proceeding to Dimwell Street with a reinforced patrol. Can you patch me in to Flying Pigs? Over.
Irena smiled. "Reinforced patrol" meant trolls and golems. And Carrot was on the spot at ground level. Good.
"Red Star Control to all Flying Pigs in Rimwards-by-Turnwise City Sector. HeadBanger has asked for air assistance to local stations Ostrich proceeding to Dimwell and Soake, possible major civic disturbance in progress. I am patching HeadBanger into the comms circuit, identify yourselves, and be prepared to take his instructions. Acknowledge. Red Star Control out."
Just another day in Ankh-Morpork…
Rimwards Howondaland. Ten forty-five Ankh-Morpork time. One-forty-five local time.
Bekki guided Boetjie out of Feegle Space, and experienced the sights and the sounds and the smells of one of her two homelands. Even blindfolded, she would have known exactly where she was. She fell in behind and to the right of Olga, aware that Boetjie was also behaving deferentially, in this case to Raduga Desh, the undisputed herd stallion of the Pegasus flight. Who is probably his great-great-great grandfather, or something. They all descend from one or other of the original two. I'll have to ask Sophie about the pedigree.
The two Pegasi circled in the air above the city of Pratoria. Bekki looked down, fascinated. She reflected on what had already been a busy morning. Her wrist still ached, for one thing.
That's the Boortrekkie Monument, over on the hill there… and that must be the Union Buildings… I've seen them from the ground, many times, but never from the air… that's got to be the President's Residence, so if I look over there, behind the Residence, where Olga's heading…
The resolution of the anti-Klatchian riot had been Captain Carrot's idea. The would-be rioters had turned into Dimwell Street, only to see a line of troll and golem officers deploying in line across the road, spaced widely but barring their way, with human and Dwarf officers moving behind them. And if they looked up, they then saw the Air Police, gathering in some numbers.
A stand-off had then ensued. The people at the front of the mob were beginning to realise they could go no further forward. The people at the back of the mob had yet to realise this, and were piling up behind.
Carrot had confidently strolled forward, and invited the crowd to be sensible, disperse, and either return home or to their lawful business. Some had gone at this point but the majority were still there.
A panicked Omnicon message from Big Wahoonie and Goblin had come in, pointing out they were stranded on the other side of a rioting mob from where the rest of the Watch presence was. Red Star had solved this by ordering Firebird and Snow Maiden to go and collect.
Bekki had ended up wondering if ferrying the slightly built Nobby Nobbs was better or worse than a man the size of Fred Colon, zooming on ahead with Nobby, she had watched Vasilisa setting her lips into a grim smile as she took off, flying low and slow with Colon gripping on to her in panicked dear life. Nobby, by comparison, had loved it, begging her to go higher and faster.
"Good to see you." Captain Carrot had said, greeting them. "As you can see, we've got a problem. They're refusing to disperse. And on the other side of our roadblock are dozens of Klatchian families."
Bekki and Vasilisa had looked round at half-glimpsed worried faces. Some were packing possessions into bags and bundles.
"Would you both come with me, please? They might respond better to a woman's voice."
And the two air policewomen walked forwards, through the line of golems and trolls, Bekki feeling horribly exposed. The largely silent mob regarded them back. Bekki sensed anger, fear and uncertainty.
Vasilisa stepped forwards and folded her arms. She glared at the mob.
"We have situation." she said. Her voice carried. "This morning I have vodka headache. I am not in good mood. You are putting me in worse mood. Therefore. Disperse. Do as you are told."
The mob looked back at her. There were muttered conversations. Then a spokes-rioter stepped forward, uncertainly.
"Err, miss? You're her, aren't you? The one who took on the bloody Klatchians yesterday?"
"Da." Vasilisa said. She indicated Bekki. "I flew Pegasus. This my friend and comrade, she kicked Klatchian out of saddle. We are both here."
Vasilisa folded her arms again. She waited for the excited muttering to subside.
"Listen to me." she said. "those Klatchians were hostile. We saw them. We dealt with problem…"
A ragged shout of "No Problem!" came back at her. Bekki blinked. Vasilisa nodded.
"But Klatchians here are not your enemies. They are your neighbours. I say to you. Do not treat your neighbours as enemies. If you wish fight, join army. Or join navy. For now. Go home!"
Then a mb-member came forward, cautiously. He was holding a newspaper, a copy of the Inquirer.
"Err, miss? Could you, you know…" he offered a pencil. Vasilisa nodded.
"Signed iconograph? Da. I do this. so will Rebecka."
After a while, she added
"Form orderly queue. Thank you."
And a riot ended as a session of signing autographs. Bekki noticed the one she was most asked to autograph was the picture of her kicking the Klatchian pilot. That, and the cartoon. She also noted that members of a mob that had formed with the express intention of smashing up and burning out Klatchian homes and businesses were even queueing outside a Klatchian-run newsagent that still had copies of the previous evening's papers, as well as this mornings. They were mumbling apologies to the shop-owner. And buying the papers, so they could then queue patiently for Bekki and Vasilisa to autograph them...
A little later, the crowd having subsided, Carrot tapped her on the shoulder.
"Reminder, miss. Captain Romanoff wants you ready for Pegasus duty."
Bekki left Vasilisa signing iconographs, and took to the air again.
And now she was landing alongside Olga on the roof of the Bureau of Foreign Affairs. A guard saluted them and led them to the Minister of State. He greeted Olga warmly, then looked in delighted surprise at her co-pilot.
"I bring you your great-niece, sir." Olga said. "I know when the story hits this country, and your daughter rewrites it in her usual style, her family will worry. I considered this a courtesy and a kindness."
Pieter van der Graaf considered this. Then he asked
"What story is that, exactly?"
"It may be best, sir, if you take a moment to read the newspapers from Ankh-Morpork. Then we can brief you."
Bekki and Olga then brought Uncle Pieter up to date. He took in the story of impending conflict between Klatch and Ankh-Morpork with some attention. He shook his head, wryly.
"Your family just cannot keep out of trouble, can they?"
He was writing a quick reply to go back to Vetinari.
"This is an unscheduled visit, sir." Olga said. "If not me, another pilot, possibly Liutenant Politek, will be with you with a fuller and more official account tomorrow. I wished to be here before the Ankh-Morpork newspapers arrived."
"I see." Pieter said. "Well, please assure Lord Vetinari we have no desire to be involved in any war, and will strive to remain neutral."
"I understand the Queen-Regent-Elect of the Zulu Empire has said precisely the same thing, sir." Olga assured him.
"We are of one mind, then" Uncle Pieter remarked. "Give my best wishes to the Patrician, and of course to your mother, Bekki. Do you intend to see Suki? I understand she is out of town chasing a scoop. Not due back for a couple of hours, so you've missed her."
"I do not want her to miss this scoop, sir. Not completely, but for us, time presses. Can a bundle of the Ankh-Morporkian newspapers be delivered to her newspaper for her attention, so she can get the scoop out a day before anyone else?"
"I will. Rebecka, stay longer on your next visit, which I hope will be soon?"
The next stop was Hubwards and widdershins. Bekki realised exactly what Olga was doing, and felt warm affection for her commanding officer, who was taking the time to do this for her, for one of her youngest and least experienced pilots. And at a time when it was hard for her to spare any time.
They popped out of Feegle space for a second flying stop. At an achingly familiar plaas, where Olga presented Bekki, alive and well, to her grandparents. Who also got a bundle of Ankh-Morpork's newspapers to read.
"I wished you to see for yourselves that Rebecka is alive and well. Before the news stories from the Central Continent arrive here, and are taken up by this country's newspapers." Olga said.
Oupa Barbarossa shook his head.
"And I wonder why I got this grey hair so young." he remarked. "Well, Olga, I thank you for your thought and your kindness. Believe me, I never forget these things."
He turned to Bekki.
"Well, meisie. You are certainly your mother's daughter."
Bekki spent time talking to her grandmother, while Olga discussed the other possible international flashpoint with Barbarossa. The old King of the neighbouring Zulu Empire was dying; not everybody accepted his daughter was the rightful heir; Ruth would accede as Queen-Regent within the next couple of months; and after that there would, both agreed, be trouble.(12)
"And now, the Klatchians." Bekki's grandmother said, shaking her head. She kissed Bekki.
"Stay out of trouble. If you can."
And soon they were on the way back. Then they were taking off again. This time to a part of the Disc where time ran several hours behind Ankh-Morpork. Bekki sighed. Pegasus Service flights could be disorientating.
Omakotitalo, near Korvessa, in the Swommi Country.
The woman on the broomstick reached the ground before the three Pegasus riders did. She called to her spouse, who was working inside the house
"Hey, Boot-face! We've got company."
Then she leaned on the veranda rail, and folded her arms, waiting impassively as the three Pegasus pilots disembarked. Two she knew; the third, with the vivid red hair, was new to her.
The three made the Witch bow.
"Perkele." The wiry blonde woman said, laconically. "Russki, Pilkunnussija, and a red-haired kid. Hey, Olga. Are you so hard up for fliers that you're stealing them from cradles now?"
Olga smiled.
"You were younger when you started, Kiiki. Rebecka here is seventeen. And blooded in combat. And yes. I need pilots. I want you both back."
Hanna von Strafenburg nodded agreement.
"You were one of our best. Very few could touch you." Hanna said.
"You won't get me back with flattery." The one called Kiiki said. "But, vittuperkele. It's good to see you again, Russki. You too, Pilkunnussija. And maybe I'll get to like you, too, red-haired kid. Come on in, Boot-Face has been cooking, try some of her mämmi, looks like cowpat but tastes great! Got puolukka, lingonberry crop in, too!" (13)
Olga had brought the Ankh-Morpork papers. The wiry blonde one called Kiiki and the broader, wide-hipped matronly one called Marina read them. Marina was quiet. Kiiki looked at Bekki and called "Good fighting, red-haired kid. Still not sure if I like you or not, but if you shoot as well as you fight, I'd fly with you."
"You want us back." Marina Raskova said.
"Da." Olga said. She took her old friend's hand. "I need my best pilots. You were among the best. You are a reservist."
Marina, wordlessly, indicated her current physical size was not ideal for a fighter pilot.
"You put weight on." Olga said. "Nichevo. I have it in mind for you to perform other duties. There is ground control, for instance. I need more ground controllers. People on the ground who understand what it is like to be a pilot in the air. Also, there is a new squadron forming which at this moment would fly behind any Front, and will not see combat. You would be an ideal pilot. It would keep you out of the front line, and free up a younger woman for first-line front duties, on a fighter broom. I also know you and Kiiki come as an item and I cannot have one without the other. I would not even try."
Olga took both her hands and gave her an intent look.
"Come back to the old unit, Marina. I need you."
Marina Raskova sighed a deep sigh. She looked over to where Kiiki was sorting through storage trunks, finally coming up with her old Air Watch uniform. She saw Kiiki nonchalantly changing into her old uniform.
"What can I say? I'm coming, Olga. If only to keep Kiiki out of trouble."
And in the town of Alice Band, in the Outback, Fourecks.
The Witch saw the three Pegasi coming in to land.
"Strike a bleeding light and light my farts." she said. She folded her arms, noting two of the Pegasi had passengers. Four of the five women were horribly familiar to her. The fifth, a kid with red hair, was not. She waited for the five to disembark, and exchanged a witch bow.
"What do you bastards want?" she demanded. "Thought I'd left the Air Watch years ago. After the bloody Lancre business."
"Think again." Olga Romanoff said.
The Witch was about thirty, long and lean, with unruly brown hair. Her black pointy hat had corks on strings dangling from the brim. She glared at the visitors.
"Olga, are you getting the bloody band back together, or what?" she demanded. "Running out of fresh meat?"
Then she saw Bekki.
"Kid, there had better be a bloody good reason why you're wearing that five-eighty-eight patch. Reckon when the Lancre war was on, you'd have been in a bloody nappy."
"There is a good reason. I awarded it to her." Olga said. "Darleen, I want you to read the papers out of Ankh-Morpork. There's an emergency on. And I need my best pilots."
Darleen grumbled, but said "Better come into the crew shack. Watch your bums for funnelwebs before you sit down."
"Is it always this hot here?" Marina Raskova asked. Darleen grinned.
"You're sweating like a hog, Tank." she said. "Best cure for sweating around here? Move somewhere colder. There's a coldwater shower out back. If you've got lighter clothes, get out of that thick heavy stuff and put something lighter on."
Marina gratefully went for a long cold shower and a change of clothes. When she was out of sight, Darleen said something about fat girls and hot weather not mixing well, also that there are tinnies in the back, they're a bit luke, but Igor moans if I use his cold-boxes to chill beer.
Then she read. She looked disbelievingly at Bekki several times. Then she put the papers down.
"Twelve bloody Klatchians?" she said, incredulously. "And you scattered the bastards? And kicked a bastard out of his seat, just to make the point?"
Bekki nodded.
"Well, bugger me with a spiny echidna. Tail first." she remarked, as she read.
"My mother runs a Zoo." Bekki said. "If you hang on while I fly back and ask, I'm sure she'll lend me one."(14)
Darleen looked up. her face split into a big grin.
"You'll need thick gloves, kid. Olga, are all the new girls crazy bastards, or is it only this one?"
"Wait till you meet Vasilisa." Olga said. "And Parrot. And Greygoose."
Darleen stood and shook Bekki's hand.
"Kid, you're a crazy bastard. I like flying with crazy bastards." she announced. "Where do I sign?"
Olga patted her on the shoulder.
"Darleen O'Hagan, you are insubordinate, your swearing would shock a drunken Cossack, you refuse to follow orders, you wear your uniform like a pile of old rags…" Olga paused. Darleen was dressed in something that looked as if it might have begun as an Air Police tunic, but both sleeves had been ripped off at the shoulder, leaving a sort of armless jacket. This was worn above very high-cut shorts that left her legs bare. Her feet were in nondescript basic sandals.
Olga went on "But you're still one of the best fliers I have ever met. I need you. And I'll issue you a new uniform."
"And this time it's the bloody bastard Klatchians." Darleen said.
"Olga, you bastard, I'm in. I'll go pack a bag, and tell the younger girls here that it's down to them for a week or two. Wait for the big girl to get out of the shower and put on something more sensible, and we're all set."
To be continued. Sorry this episode is a bit late but working life intervened. I may well come back and tidy it up, and add a few bits to flesh it out in a few places. Watch this space.
(1) Finland, Finland, Finland – it's the country for me, so often neglected, and often ignored… Seriously. Finnish Tourist Board Announcement. Visit Helsinki. It's a great place.
(2) I'm still working out how Assassin/Archaeologist Alice Band gets a town in Fourecks named after her. The idea is too good to miss. The idea is that Alice travels – reluctantly – to Fourecks on a Guild mission, and makes such a mark that the bloody place gets bloody well named after her. Not sure how, yet.
(3) An assortment of tin sheds used for various purposes, a Clacks tower, a sheep pen, and a bit of a runway
(4) Canonical sources for the next few footnotes:Men At Arms,(shooting) and Feet Of Clay (poisoning) by Terry Pratchett
(5) Sourcery, by Terry Pratchett
(6) The Truth,. by Terry Pratchett.
(7) Jingo, by Terry Pratchett.
(8) Guards! Guards! By Terry Pratchett.
(9) For the tale of how Victor Tugelbend finally got the thing he'd been assiduously been avoiding for years – graduation as a wizard – conferred on him in an "offer you cannot refuse" sort of way – and his recruitment by the Watch as a detective – go to my (very early) tale Son Of Moving Pictures Part Two.
(10) it's in Strandpiel. A Man in Black braving perils. And all because the lady loves….
(11) See The Last Hero, by Terry Pratchett.
(12) This is to come in Strandpiel Book Two. There, it will be covered in more detail.
(13) Ask a Finn about mammi. It's a seasonal delicacy.
(14) Johanna had warned her daughters not to get into one-upmanship games with Fourecksians, as these tend to escalate. Bekki's mother had put it down to rivalry between Fourecks and Rimwards Howondaland, which can suck in even the most reasonable people.
Notes Dump: think of it as a sort of dispersal area for recovered ideas which can be cannibalised for spare parts so as to get new ideas up into the air again.
YES! I KNEW there'd be a use for this word…. Finnish 'pilkunnussija', literally "comma-fucker", denoting one whose attitude to life is overly pedantic and painstaking to the point of OCD, who really needs to loosen up a bit and have a big vodka. Or three.
Also trying to get "Russian woman" or "Female Russian", {{Russian of the adult female-gendered kind}} in Finnish… nainen venäjä. Venäläinen nainen. Looking for something short and pithy and demotic, like "Russki". Does Finnish have any short words?
Skeida, paska – govno
Kyllä, olemme poronhoitajia – OK, so we herd reindeer
Poro – reindeer (singular)
Poroja - reindeer (plural)
Korvessa – out in the sticks, the wop-wops
Omakotitalo – Our house, mon repos
Porunkosema – reindeer piss – a unit of measurement – ie how far a reindeer can walk before it needs to stop for a piss, slightly less than five miles
Sisu – guts, determination, spirit, like Welsh "hwyl"
Lohikäärme – a dragon ("salmon-snake)
Joulupukki – in this context, the Hogfather. (lit "Christmas Goat", ie Santa's full beard resembles a goat)
Aasinsilta – "Donkey's Bridge", trying to get an idea across to a slow or stupid person
Olla hyvällä tuulella – To be on a good wind
Heittää lusikka nurkkaan – To throw the spoon in the corner (to "kick the bucket", die)
Sielunmaisema, the landscape of the soul – "rodinia", the mystic Other, the place where you are most at home, the heartland
Kalsarikännit Pants drunk, kalsarikännit, not so much "pissed as a fart" but a state of mind where you drink at home in your underwear, not giving a shit
Metsäsuhde The Finnish relationship with the forest, metsäsuhde – Rodinia
Not uniquely finnish, but…
Russki, Russkie
Sometimes disparaging when used by foreigners for "Russian",[169] although in the Russian language, it is a neutral term which simply means an ethnic Russian as opposed to a citizen of the Russian Federation. (Wikipedia) – well, I was right first time…
And the same source gives me another pejorative for a particular ethnicity/race/people…
Japies, Yarpies
Mildly derogative term for white South Africans, especially those of Afrikaner descent. From the Afrikaans term plaasjapie, meaning "farm boy",[172] and from the common Afrikaans first name Japie, a diminutive of Jacobus.
Twenty- nine more words, and I have pushed this double-length chapter to over a thousand words. Let's do it.
I discovered; Nap Hill is a district of Ankh-Morpork. Naphill is a village in the Buckinghamshire Cotswolds, not far away from where Terry Pratchett grew up. I wonder how many more locations in the Discworld are straight out of Terry's childhood.