The Weapon - Exodus - part 8
By Diana the Valkyrie
Draining the swamp




We got back home less than an hour later, home meaning Duncan's house. We'd
been away for twenty four hours; it was hard to believe that we'd fought two
battles and transformed the political and economic situation over several
square miles in such a short time. On the other hand, my stomach thought my
throat had been cut, and while I brought Duncan up to date on what had
happened, Wendy bustled round the kitchen, clattering pots and pans. He was
especially delighted at the success of the trebuchet I'd built. "You know they
were using those seven hundred years ago?" he said. I told him that if his
Weapon had done the job she was supposed to do, it wouldn't have been
necessary to build a medieval siege engine. She could have just dropped rocks
and oil drums on them. He nodded. "Yes, it's a bit worrying, isn't it. It's
like, you pick up your hammer to knock in a nail, and the hammer refuses
because it doesn't want to hurt the wood. Evidently, wielding this particular
Weapon isn't as simple as point-and-shoot. I guess that's one of the
advantages of 700 year old technology, it doesn't have a mind of it's own."
"She would have done it, Duncan, if I'd insisted, I really think she would.
But when you see her crying ..." "I know son. Believe me, I know."

"So what's next?" asked Duncan.

"Well. You know, when you're up to your ears in alligators, it's easy to
forget that the reason you're there is to drain the swamp. The whole point of
this was to cut off the supply of opium and heroin from this region, and we've
really made no progress at all on that." "I disagree, son. We now understand
the situation on the ground, which is more than most people do. So we can take
the necessary steps. And I hear Washington is quite tolerable at this time of
year. This is a job for ... The Weapon!"

Wendy came out with the food; omelettes, with fresh bread and salad. "I was
hoping for roast beef tonight, love?" said Duncan. She looked up at him. She
said nothing. Duncan looked at me. "I don't think either of us wants to smell
roast meat for a long time, old chap." "Oh. Yes, I see. Question - who's going
to Washington? There's a school of thought that says an old codger like me
would be better at that sort of thing than a young whippersnapper like you,
George." "Actually, she's going to be the main player on the next part," I
said, "but I've started this, I mean, I'm kind of emotionally involved, you
know? So I'd like to see it through." He bit a chunk off his bread and nodded.
"Tell you what, though. This time, take a hands-free cellphone, so I can talk
to you without Wendy having to relay everything." "Good idea. What else will I
need?" "A decent shirt and tie," interrupted Wendy, "and a suit that doesn't
make you look like a snake-oil salesman." Duncan nodded. "Appearance and dress
code is going to be dead important where you're going, son, she's right."

"But what's our game plan, Duncan. Taking on a bunch of bandits is one thing,
but this?" "Play to our strength, son. One thing I've found out about our
Weapon here, is that where you might think she's a great flying combination
bulldozer and tank, actually what she's very good at is getting people to shut
up and listen to what she says. And if what she says really does make sense,
she's good at getting them to actually do the right thing." "But she doesn't
have the experience and knowledge to know what the right thing is, that's
supposed to be you." "Yeah, and you, but we don't tell them that. It sounds
like it's coming from her, so they take it a zillion times more seriously than
if the exact same idea is coming from an old fart like me or a young scallywag
like you. Show him what I mean, Wendy."

Immediately, she stood up, six feet of white-and-gold fury hovering with her
head almost touching the ceiling; she faced me, her hands curled up into
fists, and shouted "No! That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and you're
a fool for suggesting it." She stood with her hands on her hips, scowling at
me. "But, but what ...," I faltered, "but ..." Then she smiled, threw herself
into my lap, pulled my head to hers and kissed me. "He's still shaking,
Duncan." Duncan laughed. "First time she did that to me I nearly wet myself.
See what I mean?" "Gordon Bennett, Wendy," I gasped, "don't ever do that
again!" "She got your attention though, didn't she?" "One hundred percent. I
was trying to think what I'd just said that was so stupid." Wendy chuckled and
kissed me again. Then she dumped herself on Duncan's lap and kissed him.

"Intimidation, that's the thing," said Duncan. "People do actually take notice
when someone gets violent. The trick is to not be so violent that you trigger
a rejection. So the violence has to be in the voice - shouting. Or in violence
against nearby objects; banging the table, for example. And in the stance;
hands-on-hips is good, but George, you stand up, and Wendy, show him the other
one we talked about." I stood; Wendy faced me, her eyes narrowed, a frown on
her face. One hand was curled tightly into a fist, and was cocked ready to
strike. The other was held out towards me, fingers clawed. "Gordon Bennett,
she looks scary like that," I admitted, "If I didn't know ... " She moved
towards me; I backed away. She moved closer, I found myself up against the
wall. She moved in for the coup de grace ... "Duncan, what about the Code?" I
asked. "You have me confused with someone else," she said, menacingly. And
then she threw herself at me.

Her lips covered mine, and her tongue raped my mouth. Her body was pressed
against mine, which robbed me of any will to resist. It was at least a minute
before she let me breathe again, and when she did let me go, she had to help
me back to the chair, because my knees seemed to be out of my control.

"Time is of the essence here," said Duncan, "there's three thousand of Lan
Ho's people out there, and although they're OK for now, sooner or later
they're going to get hit, and this time they won't have surprise on their
side." "Or the great General George," added Wendy. "OK," said Duncan, "let's
aim to get you launched by noon, and you'll be in Washington an hour later at
8am, just in time for the start of the day." "Sounds fine to me," I replied,
"uh, could I borrow the Weapon tonight?" I felt like I was asking my dad to
borrow the car. "Well, you know son, it's been a while since ..." "Yes, but we
weren't exactly in a conducive ..." "I had plans for her to ..." "Yes, but
after what she just did to me ..." "Honestly, you two," said Wendy. "What?" "I
don't suppose it occurred to either of you to ask me, huh?"

"Oh."

"Oh."

"So, how about I fly George home, then he can get cleaned up, pack a bag and
suchlike, I'll put him to bed, I'll have him fast asleep within an hour, then
I can come back here and deal with Duncan, and then, and then, well, there's
my place I like to go to when things get pear-shaped, and I'm going to spend
the rest of the night there, because there's a bunch of stuff I want to think
about."

"Oh."

"Oh."

She's smashing when she gets into her take-charge mood.

...

"Morning, Duncan." "Uh." Kiss kiss. "Wake up, honey." Kiss kiss. "Duncan, wake
up." "Unnhhh." "OK, sod this for a game of soldiers, come on Dunc." She pulled
him out of bed, and flew him into the shower, which she put full on, cold."
"Aaaaargghh!" "Is that better?" "Aaaaargghh!"

After a few minutes, she stood between him and the torrent of freezing water,
rubbing him over with a soapy flannel. "Aaaahhhhh. That's more like it." Then
a rinse in more cold water "Noooooo!", then out for a rub down with a warm
towel. "I just wanted to say goodbye, Duncan. I don't think we'll be gone
long. Just wanted to leave you with a nice memory." "Sadist." "Yes, and don't
you love it?"

"Uh. Well. Uh."

She opened the bathroom window, said "Bye, Dunc" and dived out. A minute or so
later, she was diving into my bed, and burrowing under the duvet. "Morning,
George." "Uh." Kiss kiss. "Wake up, honey." Kiss kiss.

Five minutes later, I was shivering under my cold shower, and begging her to
stop. "Wendy, please?" She laughed, and wrapped me up in a big fluffy bath
towel. "Are you ready for the trip?" "Ready as I'll ever be, I've packed some
good rags to make the right impression, suit-and-tie, somber socks, all that
sort of rig. How about you, you ready? How did your meditation go?" "Pretty
good, actually, and there's stuff I want to tell you about on that. You ready
to go?" "Uh, yes." She picked me up, her arms round my waist. I put my arms
round her neck, her voluminous cape wrapped itself around me, and I felt the
pull of three gravities as we headed up into near earth orbit.

I can imagine why astronauts hate it, you're pressed at three g's into a cold
hard acceleration couch in a fragile aluminium can while a controlled
explosion of rocket fuel and liquid oxygen takes place a few yards away, and
you spend your time thinking about O-rings and how the lowest bid gets the
contract. They should try it this way, pressed at three g's into a lovely,
warm and deliciously soft Wendy, wrapped up in her cape and feeling
considerable safer than you do on the M25 at 60 mph on a wet night.

After a few minutes of this, we reached orbital velocity, and it was free fall
from now until re-entry. "You'll never guess what I found when I went to the
middle of the sun last night."

Don't you just hate it when people play this guessing game? Was I supposed to
guess, given my extensive experience of conditions at the center of a star, or
was I supposed to say do tell? "Do tell." "A hole!" "There's a hole in the
sun? Like a doughnut?" "Yes, I mean no, I mean there's a black hole!" "Is that
bad?" I asked, warily. "Don't those things swallow up entire planets and
stuff?" "Only the big ones. This one's a tiny little baby one. Not a hazard.
It's just quietly orbiting down near the middle. I bet you didn't even know it
was there!" "Well, knock me down with a feather, what a surprise. You're
right, I hadn't known that. How riveting. Got any more useful facts for me,
Wendy?" "Oh you. There's no romance in your soul." "Yeah, well, at least I got
a soul, not like you. You're just ..."

"Yes," she said softly, "I'm just what, exactly?" "Uh. Four black holes. Yes,
I can see why you're interested in them." "Fine, but right now, we've got half
an hour of zero gravity. You want to discuss the physics of stellar objects,
or would you like me to fuck your brains out?" she asked. Hmm, difficult
choice.

...