Tarquin Jenkins, End Game: Re-Draft II

[The Bloated Shaganat]

Dear All,

Many thanks for the helpful comments (Peter Graham, Timelord4, Yasabra), I have as suggested padded it out and made the final chapter much longer. I have also limited the number of surprises.

There are a couple of things you will need to know that have appeared in previous chapters.

Pollux and Castor are Time Guardians - think of them as UN Inspectors keeping an eye on different species using time portals or worm holes as I call them, and observing others interfering in Time. Alas, they appear to have gone bad at the end...We have met them before and the reader knows all about them

BRONCO -

Brangleweed’s Retrobuccled Occular Neutrocclusical Cementoblastoma Oligos MK VI (Supercharged) Licensed by Sorayama Industries.

Is a device that allows you to follow a space ship through time and down worm holes. Sort of allows you to hitch a ride. Jethro is the best BRONCO rider known to man...I nearly killed our intrepid heroes early on in the novel during a BRONCO ride, so again the reader will know all about it.

Reckitt Blue & Gehenna - The last time they met Gruilash the Griddleback, he shot one of their colleagues with the comment "I don't do humour" They do the same.

The final scene in the restuarant is a play on three other scenes, a sort of running gag when the waitress bullies Tarquin to such an extent that he fears to go there. However, after the final chapter he is a changed boy...and has the power to talk to the waitress using his mind, which totally freaks her out.

Anyway, the big question...are you on the edge of your seat when you read this?

Chapter Seventeen

End Game

"The Time Guardians are signalling us to descend," said Jethro, watching the lights inside Pollux and Castor’s Airsteam Bubble flicker on and off. Tarquin listened nervously inside the transportal, the wooden box in one hand, his Bosun in the other.

He nodded to Jethro on the communication screen. "Okay, let’s do it."
Jethro hit the transporter button and Tarquin disappeared. Inside the caravan, the silence was palpable.

Suddenly Tarquin’s intercom crackled, and they heard his frightened voice shout, "It’s a trap! The Time Guardians—" the transmission fizzed and died.

"Tarquin…Tarquin, what’s happening? Tarquin?" Jethro furiously pressed buttons, trying to get him back. Archie, Rhia, Doughty and the Leprechauns rushed to the window to peer through the mist at the Airstream Bubble rising slowly upward.

"Barstewards," muttered Doughty, as the Bubble disappeared in a flash of light and steam.

Jethro quickly waved a hand over a small instrument panel on the caravan’s dashboard and a miniature replica of the Bubble appeared, sitting in the centre of a hologram next to replicas of the caravan, and several other ships.

"We’re not the only ones at this party," said Jethro, entering a series of numbers into the console. Jules watched Jethro with mounting unease until he realised his intentions.

"You can’t Jethro…you just don’t run down a Time Guardian ship!"

Jethro turned and grinned mischievously at Jules. "Well old friend, there are some things a man just can't run away from," he said in a low American drawl laced with his Russian accent. His fist hovered momentarily over a red button marked panic.

"Oh sh—" groaned Jules and covered his eyes.

Jethro pushed the button and set off down the corridor. The caravan shuddered and a light, like a maroon flare exploded, running through the ship.

"Guardians jumpin’, let’s go a fishin’… let’s go BRONCO!" Jethro shouted, with Jules and the others stumbling after him. Reaching the BRONCO room, Jethro rushed to the center of the transparent hexagon. He climbed into the suspended bucket seat, covered his head with the hairdryer hood and pulled the Lookie See’s to his eyes. He selected a gold coloured mouth guard from a rack above his head, wiggled his bottom on the seat, and gripped the rods fanning out from the chair. On the screen in front of him appeared a decreasing line of numbers.

"Oh hloody bell! Doughty cried, as Jethro strapped himself into the seat and pressed a range of switches, and pulled several levers.

20-19-18…Jules stuck his fist in his mouth, biting hard. Rhia pulled at her ponytail.

8-7-6-5…Calhbach closed the door, and everyone crowded anxiously around the window.

4-3-2-1…The Dambusters March exploded into the air and the chair started bouncing, its coiled springs rapidly extending and contracting. Strapped securely into the seat, Jethro bobbed up and down within the hexagon’s frame, like a bouy in a violent storm. Then, the hexagon started rolling. Slowly at first, building momentum until it soared into the air and bounced off the room’s rubbery walls.Jethro clung to the rods, his biceps straining under the g-force as he tried to control the craft. His facial skin wound tight about his skull, his mouth puckered and his eyes, now alarmingly the size of eggs were close to exploding from their sockets. He looked like a furless, overweight bush baby that had just sat down on something very, very sharp.

The hexagon bounced around the room like a pinball, spinning into the distance before catapulting back toward the door. He was maneovering the caravan through a dozen worm-holes as the Time Guardian ship tried to outrun him. He was staying with them, but only just.

* * *

Click.

Oh, Pollux…muttered Tarquin, looking down the barrel of a phaser and into Gruilash Vandergard’s cold reptilian eyes.

"Drop the Bosun, put the box on the floor and kick it to me," growled Gruilash. Tarquin did as requested.

Click, click.

Gruilash blinked, pricked up his ears and gave a surprised snort. Behind him stood Reckitt Blue and Gehenna, their phasers pointing at his head.

"We’ll take that, you pathetic excuse for a handbag." Gehenna, jabbed her phaser hard into the scales on his head. "Oh, that reminds me," she said with a smile before shooting him in the thigh and watching him collapse on the floor screaming. "We don’t do humour." They laughed hysterically and kicked him hard before moved toward Tarquin.

"Now, human." She picked at a long claw like nail on her index finger. "I’m going to decapitate you, suck you dry, and stick your scrawny head on the front of my custom hoverbike," she said, snarling and displaying two yellowing, six-inch scimitar eyeteeth. Tarquin felt fear running down his leg.

Whooooosh!

A blast of cold air knocked them to the ground. A small weather ball hovered above the ground before exploding and expanding, the pressure wave squeezing their heads like party balloons. From inside a bank of cloud, a head popped out. Two beady eyes surveyed the unconscious bodies and seeing the box, muttered something in Latin and disappeared. Seconds later, a naked man ran from the mist, picked up the box and disappeared back into the cloud. With a loud slurping noise the weather front shrank back into a ball and disappeared. The accompanying thunder rolled into the distance, leaving a letter-sized piece of parchment spiralling slowly to the ground.

Tarquin struggled to his feet, his head pounding like a flamenco dancer on viagra. Reckitt, Gehenna and Gruilash lay motionless. He retrieved the parchment from a puddle of hot water. It was a pen and ink drawing of a naked man standing inside a square and surrounded by a circle, his two pairs of arms and legs out stretched, and touching the circle.

"It can’t be," said Tarquin, looking incredulously at the face in the drawing. "He’s had a shave, and a haircut, but that’s Nostradamus!" He laughed and shook his head. He owed his life to a crazed genius. "If I ever get my hands on you, you hairy-arsed kleptomaniac… I’ll kiss you!" he said, staring upward, and clapping his hands at the water that dripped from the cave ceiling.

A second ball of weather materialised and seeing it, Tarquin covered his ears and crouched on the ground. He waited for the blast and for the noise to abate before he looked up to see the caravan emerge from a cloud of steam. Overjoyed, Tarquin staggered to his feet and was met by his friends rushing to meet him.

Wuuummph!

They dived for cover. Jethro poked his head out of the caravan and looked anxiously at the steel door in the wall. "We need to leave," he said, moving to Jules and pulling him toward the caravan, just as a second explosion rocked the cave.

"Come on all of you!" Shouted Jethro, pushing Jules inside the caravan and helping the others.


Shards of white light bounced across the ground exploding close to the caravan, sending Archie and Calbhach scuttling for the caravan door. Jethro had disappeared inside the caravan, leaving Jules to haul them inside. Just when Rhia and Doughty were safely inside Jethro filled the doorway, oblivious to the spitting gunfire creeping closer. He twirled the Wrogley guns in his huge hands and chewed menacingly on a fat Cuban cigar. He cocked the guns and sneered, talking to an imaginary camera.

"A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do."

Stepping onto the cave floor, Jethro pumped a withering barrage of goo at the first wave of Griddleback stormtroopers pouring into the cave. Caught unawares, the stormtoopers were glued to the cave floor like a field of swaying pink stalagmites. This bought enough time for all to strap themselves into their seats, and for Jethro to seal the caravan door, get to the control booth, and start the ship’s engines. As the second wave of stormtroopers reached their trapped colleagues, the caravan, accompanied by Beethoven's Ode to Joy and Jethro’s singing, lurched left, then right before it climbed upwards, and disappeared in a cloud of steam vapour.

* * *

Three weeks had passed since they're escape. Tarquin was back in 2340 sitting with Archie in Rigsworth’s Original 1950s Diner looking at the menu.

"Woz yer want, small boy," said the Manganoid Shagganat waitress, with a bullying leer as she deliberately dripped flem on Tarquin and the table. He didn’t flinch, just rose from his seat, looked her straight in the eyes and moved toward her until their noses touched. The diner went quiet.

You really should start giving me some respect.

The Shagganat wailed loudly, banged her head between her hands and lumbered toward the kitchen as if a Griddleback was chasing her.

"What got into her?" asked Archie, watching her crash through the kitchen’s double doors.

"No idea. Perhaps she thought I was somebody else?" said Tarquin, taking his seat and returning to reading the menu with a smile.

-----------------

TBO

[The Bloated Shaganat]

Giovanna Clairval,

Horror upon horrors I left you off the list of helpful contributors above. When I realised it was too late, the no more edits curtain had rung down!

So, my 'umblest apologies fair maiden....

TBO

[Giovanna Clairval]

Hi, TBS,

It’s fast paced, and I like fast-paced writing. You master dramatisation; it’s a fact.

I’ve been on board the story only from chapter seventeen, so I can’t really judge (it’s just an expression: I’m no judge, lol) how you handle characterisation. I can say that Jethro is well defined, although this short sample doesn’t tell me whether he is a multi-faceted bestard or only an adventurer. I should read more to know.

Your past-faced writing may (once again: not enough material for me to know) lead you to run faster than your characters do, skipping over explanations and rushing on, not taking enough time to build a scene. Once again, it’s just a hint…

I don’t know much about the setting, which, of course, pops in earlier.

I do like your similes. Those touches of colour are original and enrich a prose that is “manly” (as opposed to “girly” ).

Your humour adds distance to what happens. No tragedy there. The story is entertaining and enjoyable. On the other hand, the tone makes me wonder. Is there any emotional involvement in other parts of your story? If it’s humorous (and it is), it’s all right, but if there is only humour, suspense won’t be easy to build, as much as we are not worrying about the characters: we know they will always win.

In a nutshell: you can’t give me humour and scare me too.

I couldn’t stay away from the blue, but I had no hard work here, just a few [new paragraph] to add, otherwise it becomes crammed, and a few commas to add (I’m a comma-maniac, everybody knows that).

Keep it up with the good work, Shaganat!

Here’s the thing.

"The Time Guardians are signalling us to descend," said Jethro, watching the lights inside Pollux and Castor’s Airsteam Bubble flicker on and off. New para
Tarquin listened nervously inside the transportal, the wooden box in one hand, his Bosun in the other.

He nodded to Jethro on the communication screen. "Okay, let’s do it."
Jethro hit the transporter button and Tarquin disappeared. Inside the caravan, the silence was palpable.

Suddenly Tarquin’s intercom crackled, and they heard his frightened voice shout, "It’s a trap! The Time Guardians—" the transmission fizzed and died.

"Tarquin…Tarquin, what’s happening? Tarquin?" Jethro furiously pressed buttons, trying to get him back. New para
Archie, Rhia, Doughty and the Leprechauns rushed to the window to peer through the mist at the Airstream Bubble rising slowly upward.

"Barstewards," muttered Doughty, as the Bubble disappeared in a flash of light and steam.

Jethro quickly waved a hand over a small instrument panel on the caravan’s dashboard and a miniature replica of the Bubble appeared, sitting in the centre of a hologram next to replicas of the caravan, and several other ships.

"We’re not the only ones at this party," said Jethro, entering a series of numbers into the console. New para
Jules watched Jethro with mounting unease until he realised his intentions.

"You can’t Jethro…you just don’t run down a Time Guardian ship!"

Jethro turned and grinned mischievously at Jules. "Well old friend, there are some things a man just can't run away from," he said in a low American drawl laced with his Russian accent. His fist hovered momentarily over a red button marked panic.

"Oh sh—" groaned Jules and covered his eyes.

Jethro pushed the button and set off down the corridor. The caravan shuddered and a light, like a maroon flare exploded, running through the ship.

"Guardians jumpin’, let’s go a fishin’… let’s go BRONCO!" Jethro shouted, with Jules and the others stumbling after him. New para
Reaching the BRONCO room, Jethro rushed to the center of the transparent hexagon. He climbed into the suspended bucket seat, covered his head with the hairdryer hood and pulled the Lookie See’s to his eyes. He selected a gold coloured mouth guard from a rack above his head, wiggled his bottom on the seat, and gripped the rods fanning out from the chair. On the screen in front of him appeared a decreasing line of numbers.

"Oh hloody bell! Doughty cried, as Jethro strapped himself into the seat [,]and pressed a range of switches(,) and pulled several levers.

20-19-18… Jules stuck his fist in his mouth, biting hard. Rhia pulled at her ponytail.

8-7-6-5…Calhbach closed the door, and everyone crowded anxiously around the window.

4-3-2-1…The Dambusters March exploded into the air and the chair started bouncing, its coiled springs rapidly extending and contracting. Strapped securely into the seat, Jethro bobbed up and down within the hexagon’s frame, like a bouy [buoy] in a violent storm. Then, the hexagon started rolling. Slowly at first, building momentum until it soared into the air and bounced off the room’s rubbery walls. Jethro clung to the rods, his biceps straining under the g-force as he tried to control the craft. H[,] his facial skin wound tight about his skull, his mouth puckered and his eyes, now alarmingly the size of eggs[,] were close to exploding from [out of] their sockets. He looked like a furless, overweight bush baby that had just sat down on something very, very sharp.[I like this one, lol!]

The hexagon bounced around the room like a pinball, spinning into the distance before catapulting back toward the door. He was maneovering manoeuvring the caravan through a dozen worm-holes as the Time Guardian ship tried to outrun him. He was staying with them, but only just that.

* * *

Click.

Oh, Pollux…muttered Tarquin, looking down the barrel of a phaser and into Gruilash Vandergard’s cold reptilian eyes.

"Drop the Bosun, put the box on the floor and kick it to me," growled Gruilash. New para
Tarquin did as requested.

Click, click.

Gruilash blinked, pricked up his ears and gave a surprised snort of surprise. Behind him stood Reckitt Blue and Gehenna, their phasers pointing at his head.

"We’ll take that, you pathetic excuse for a handbag." Gehenna, jabbed her phaser hard into the scales on his head. "Oh, that reminds me," she said with a smile before shooting him in the thigh and watching him collapse on the floor screaming. "We don’t do humour." New para
They laughed hysterically and kicked him hard before moved toward Tarquin.

"Now, human. [italics, here, to make it sound as an insult?]" She picked at a long claw like nail on her index finger. "I’m going to decapitate you, suck you dry, and stick your scrawny head on the front of my custom hoverbike," she said, snarling and displaying two yellowing, six-inch scimitar eyeteeth. New para
Tarquin felt fear running down his leg. [fine, this. I’m feeling it]

Whooooosh!

A blast of cold air knocked them to the ground. A small weather ball hovered above the ground before exploding and expanding, the pressure wave squeezing their heads like party balloons. From inside a bank of cloud, a head popped out. Two beady eyes surveyed the unconscious bodies and[,] seeing the box, muttered something in Latin and disappeared. Seconds later, a naked man ran from the mist, picked up the box and disappeared vanished back into the cloud. With a loud[,] slurping noise[,] the weather front shrank back into a ball and disappeared popped out of existence. The accompanying thunder rolled into the distance, leaving a letter-sized piece of parchment spiralling slowly to the ground.

Tarquin struggled to his feet, his head pounding like a flamenco dancer on viagra. Reckitt, Gehenna and Gruilash lay motionless. He retrieved the parchment from a puddle of hot water. It was a pen and ink drawing of a naked man standing inside a square and surrounded by a circle, his two pairs of arms and legs out stretched, and touching the circle.

"It can’t be," said Tarquin, looking incredulously at the face in the drawing. "He’s had a shave, and a haircut, but that’s Nostradamus!" He laughed and shook his head. He owed his life to a crazed genius. "If I ever get my hands on you, you hairy-arsed kleptomaniac… I’ll kiss you!" he said, staring upward, and clapping his hands at the water that dripped from the cave ceiling.

A second ball of weather materialised and[,] seeing it, Tarquin covered his ears and crouched on the ground. He waited for the blast and for the noise to abate before he looked up to see the caravan emerge from a cloud of steam. Overjoyed, Tarquin staggered to his feet and was met by his friends rushing to meet up to him.

Wuuummph!

They dived for cover. Jethro poked his head out of the caravan and looked anxiously at the steel door in the wall. "We need to leave," he said, moving to Jules and pulling him toward the caravan, just as a second explosion rocked the cave.

"Come on all of you!" Shouted Jethro, pushing Jules inside the caravan and helping the others.


Shards of white light bounced across the ground|,] exploding close to the caravan, sending Archie and Calbhach scuttling for the caravan door. Jethro had disappeared inside the caravan, leaving Jules to haul them inside. Just when Rhia and Doughty were safely inside|,] Jethro filled the doorway, oblivious to the spitting gunfire creeping closer. He twirled the Wrogley guns in his huge hands and chewed menacingly on a fat Cuban cigar. He cocked the guns and sneered, talking to an imaginary camera.

"A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do."

Stepping onto the cave floor, Jethro pumped a withering barrage of goo at the first wave of Griddleback stormtroopers pouring into the cave. Caught unawares, the stormtroopers were glued to the cave floor like a field of swaying pink stalagmites. This bought enough time for all to strap themselves into their seats, and for Jethro to seal the caravan door, get to the control booth, and start the ship’s engines. As the second wave of stormtroopers reached their trapped colleagues, the caravan, accompanied by Beethoven's Ode to Joy and Jethro’s singing, lurched left, then right before it climbed upwards, and disappeared in a cloud of steam vapour.

* * *

Three weeks had passed since they're escape. Tarquin was back in 2340 sitting with Archie in Rigsworth’s Original 1950s Diner looking at the menu.

"Woz yer want, small boy," said the Manganoid Shagganat waitress, with a bullying leer as she deliberately dripped flem on Tarquin and the table. New para
He didn’t flinch, just rose from his seat, looked her straight in the eyes and moved toward her until their noses touched. The diner went quiet.

You really should start giving me some respect.

The Shagganat wailed loudly, banged her head between her hands and lumbered toward the kitchen as if a Griddleback was chasing her.

"What got into her?" asked Archie, watching her crash through the kitchen’s double doors.

"No idea. Perhaps she thought I was somebody else?" said Tarquin, taking his seat and returning to reading the menu with a smile.

[The Bloated Shaganat]

Giovanna,

Very remiss of me for not thanking you before now.

You raised concerns over the emotional involvement of the characters with all the jokes and humour flying around. Shakespeare was masterful at mixing high drama with light hearted scenes (Porter at the gate in Macbeth) and somehow raising the tension further.

In this novel I am trying to use the same technique. You haven't seen some of the darker scenes. My central character is shot and barely survives;

“Of course, you already know don’t you?” He clamped his hand over Tarquin’s throat and squeezed.

“You know exactly who we are.”

Tarquin fought hard, but in vain. The android gripped his throat and another twisted his arm painfully behind his back. A third android clamped Tarquin’s chest between its arms, and squeezed. As the last remaining breath left his lungs, the room darkened and he felt himself floating, his life ebbing away. He felt no pain, just a sense of bewilderment. Far off he heard a voice echoing, and rising, coming toward him, getting louder.

Now the voice stood next to him; strong, powerful and commanding.

“Strike the pose!”

Then he was flying, gulping air, his consciousness streaming back. He cried out with joy as he looked up from the stone floor.

“Madge!”

He scrambled to the side of the room, hauling in air. Madge scythed her way through the androids, like a tornado through a caravan park.

And the moment he meets a Griddleback (bad guy);

Near the service counter, moving toward them appeared a brown, sickly face. It was a Griddleback. A slimy yellow tongue darted from its lipless mouth and smeared spittle over its cold, reptilian eyes. It stood upright, snorting steam from its scarred and bloated snout. A putrid odour of death and decay filled the room. It saw Madge and moved toward her, slathering mucous and bile across its mouth and tusks. They all held their breath, praying that Rigsworth could start the sofa before the Griddleback saw them. Wrapping a clawed foot around Madge’s contorted body it ululated triumphantly and dragged her across the floor toward the kitchen door. This was too much for Tarquin.

“No!” he yelled, picking up a chair and staggering across the floor toward the Griddleback. It turned just in time to feel the force of the chair hitting its armoured mid-rift, and knocking it off balance. Raising his Boson, Tarquin’s thoughts were pure hatred, and sent a fizzing orb of violet light crashing into the creature’s leathery face. It wobbled, dropped its weapon and collapsed with a sickening groan on top of Madge. Kicking and punching the Griddleback, Tarquin tried desperately to free her as the others implored him to join them. The Griddleback was recovering, and trying to stand. Tarquin gave one last despairing pull and fell backwards, clutching Madge just as four Griddlebacks entered through the kitchen door. He turned to the sofa and his heart sank. It was leaving. With no time to think, he dived for the sofa just as a bolt of light thudded into his back.

And there are some quite moving moments between Tarquin and Rhia, his welsh time travelling friend.

All in all, I think I have the balance right, but I will stay alert to it.Thanks for pointing it out, I wouldn't have thought of it!

Did you get the oh Pollux! joke, admittedly it was rather crude.

TBO

[Giovanna Clairval]

Hi, TBS,

I stand convinced, now. Your two new scenes show (always a good word, this one) that you can handle danger and emotions, pal.
In my previous post I had just asked questions, pointing at “possible” inclinations of your brilliant plume (wow, this is…), and saying several time that I had jumped on the story’s wagon very very recently…

Now, I’ve got the feeling that you could stretch the scenes a little more. All right, you’re probably thinking, she didn’t read the rest of the chapters where these scenes are. Yes, I haven’t. What I’m saying here is that you could exploit the little bestards more, elaborate on what happens, and just a little. I believe that suspense comes from this stretching. I still felt this impression of your plume (keyboard-wise) rushing forward. And then again, it’s just an impression…

Originally Posted by The Bloated Shaganat

Giovanna, Did you get the oh Pollux! joke, admittedly it was rather crude.

Funny. I first thought it was B****xes, or B***ocs, and then I “heard” in my head a word that would have me expelled from this board manu militari, had I repeated it here…
Does this hyphenated word include a noun related to an old weapon and also a reference to Love Labour’s Lost by Shakespeare?

As I said before; manly

Btw, I like “Pollux and Castor” (named the other way round) And I know what the translation of Castor means in American slang, and, well, Pollux means “very sweet”…

Y/A, did you say? Y/A...

[The Bloated Shaganat]

GC,

You got it right the second time. It was rather crude...

I nicked their names (as you are probably aware) from Greek mythology. Castor was famous for taming and managing horses, and Pollux for skill in boxing. They were 'united by the warmest affection', and inseparable in all their enterprises.

See PM for my use of them!

I am very interested in your thoughts on elongating my pieces (now, now, steady girl...). I'll give it a go, add a bit more depth if I can.

TBO