The Mechanical Messiah (23 page)

arwin and the colonel lunched at The Spaceman’s Club.

Darwin had some qualms about the menu.

Colonel Katterfelto tucked into a starter of

Hummingbird Crème Fraiche

with purple basil

A main course of

Grilled Elephant Liver in a cinnamon gravy

Lightly fried White Tiger Steak with Marmot Ragout

Gorilla Goulash with chipped potatoes

And a dessert of

Roly-poly pudding & treacle sponge bastard
[8]

Darwin kept his head down and munched upon bananas.

But joined the colonel in the brandy and cigars without which no gentleman’s meal could ever be successfully concluded.

Mark Rowland Ferris, the Fifth Earl of Hove, joined them at the table for a chat.

‘I have no objection whatever,’ he said to Colonel Katterfelto, ‘to you representing this ape here as your nephew—’

The colonel all but choked upon his brandy.

‘Steady on there,’ said the Fifth Earl. ‘I said I had no objection. If you have trained this little fellow to play Snap—’

He reached to tousle the little fellow’s head.

The little fellow bared his pointy teeth.

‘I have no objection at all. As long as you restrict your play to Jovians. I cannot have you out-Snapping any of the British members.’

‘Would not think of such a thing.’ The colonel puffed upon his cigar. ‘Hardly sporting,
that.’

‘Quite so, then we understand one another. I do have to say that your
nephew
looks particularly well turned out today.’

And indeed Darwin did. He had earlier insisted that the colonel accompany him to a certain London tailoring establishment that Darwin had patronised during his more prosperous days. For he knew that they must still hold several suits of clothes he had ordered before his disastrous visit to the gaming tables of Monte Carlo.

Darwin now wore an elegant morning suit of black worsted wool, grey and white striped trousers with fitted tail-snood, black silk tie and matching socks, Oxford brogues and a shirt of Irish linen. He cut a considerable dash and to the first glance of most would have passed for a well-dressed midget. Albeit one sorely in need of a shave.

Indeed the clerk behind the desk at Coutts Bank, Darwin’s second port of call, hardly turned a brilliantined hair when the simian opened an account.

Darwin sucked upon his cigar. He did not like Mark Rowland Ferris. And he was happy enough when the Fifth Earl of Hove departed in the company of his three French bulldogs Ninja, Yoda and Groucho. Today these three French bulldogs all wore kilts.

The man and the monkey moved on to the Snap salon.

They were greeted jovially by the Jovians. Darwin ordered further brandy from a passing waiter and settled down to play.

The colonel took himself off to a wicker-bound steamer chair upon the terrace, sat himself upon it and continued with his cigar.

The vista was, as ever, one to inspire wonder. The capital of the Empire spreading in all directions. The historic buildings of mellow granite, stone and brick, crisply rendered by the sunlight. The crowded avenues and thoroughfares. The horse-drawn carriages, the new electric wheelers. The Tesla towers, the flying craft, the beauty of it all.

Colonel Katterfelto made a very thoughtful face. He was torn by certain contradictions. He loved London, and he loved the monarchy and the British Empire. He was loyal and he was true. And he wished no harm to come to anything he loved. Which left him where, exactly, regarding the construction of the Mechanical Messiah? This, the ultimate Marvel of the Modern Age, when imbued with life, would do
what,
exactly? The colonel wondered whether perhaps he had not thought all of this through properly. Would the Mechanical Messiah precipitate Armageddon and the coming of the Apocalypse? As the arrival of the Lamb of God was prophesied to do in the Book of Revelation? Colonel Katterfelto hoped not! That was
not
what he had in mind at all.

What he had in mind was that the Mechanical Messiah would put the world to right. That He would be recognised as
Heaven’s Last and Best Gift to Mankind.
That a modern Utopia would be created. A Heaven upon Earth.

The colonel felt satisfied with this.
More
than satisfied. Mankind would certainly thank him for his tireless efforts. He might even receive a knighthood.

A Messiah, Utopia
and
a knighthood.

It did not get better than that.

The colonel’s reverie was interrupted by the arrival of a particularly girthsome Jovian, whose presence on the terrace was not to be ignored.

The Jovian nodded towards the colonel.

‘Joy be with thou,’ he said, this being the traditional Jovian greeting.

‘And more unto thee,’ replied the colonel, who knew the traditional response.

A part of the Jovians’ charm for the colonel lay in the way they spoke. Very much in the manner of Old Testament prophets. It had come as no surprise to those who spoke the Queen’s English to discover that the Queen’s English was the Universal Tongue, adopted by beings from all worlds so far discovered. Such was only to be expected, really. The Queen’s English and ‘civilisation’ being hand in glove, as it were.

Certainly some spoke it with an accent so thick as to be hardly distinguishable, the Martians, for instance. And Venusians had a private language,
The Spiritual Tongue,
which they spoke only to each other. But Jovians carried on like Noah or Moses, whilst espousing no religion whatsoever. Although it did have to be said that there were subtle differences in nuance and syntax and things of that nature that marked them out from those holy fathers of old. Perhaps there was a hint of ‘Yorkshire’ to it.

‘Wouldst thou mind if I park me bum on the sitter next to thou?’ enquired the girthsome off-worlder.

The colonel expressed no preference one way or the other.

The Jovian lowered himself onto the adjacent seat. The wickerwork shrieked as if under torture. The Jovian settled with care.

‘Art thou Katterfelto?’ asked the Jovian.

‘
Colonel
Katterfelto,’ said the colonel.

‘Doest thou pardon me.’ The Jovian leaned over, to the accompaniment of much groaning wickerwork, and extended his big hand towards the colonel. ‘Mingus Larkspur,’ he said. ‘Nowt but a lowly corporal in the Third Mounted Nunbuck.
[9]
Thou doest outrank me somewhat.’

‘No ranks here,’ said Colonel Katterfelto, shaking the outstretched hand. ‘All brother travellers of the void. How d’ya know m’name, by the by?’

‘Earl Ferris recommended thou to me.

‘Recommended?’ The colonel tapped ash from his cigar into the fitted ash bowl of his seat. ‘Recommended for
what,
might I ask?’

‘As one that hast led a hunt.’

‘Big-game
hunt, d’you mean?’ The colonel smiled and nodded as he did so.

‘Big-game hunt ‘pon Mars,’ said Corporal Larkspur.

‘Led more than a few,’ quoth the colonel. ‘Minimal fatalities generally.’

‘Wouldst thou consider leading another?’

‘Another?’ Colonel Katterfelto thoughtfully stroked at his mustachios. There was certainly a thrill to a big-game hunt that was to be found in no other sporting activity. But he was not as young as he had been and sometimes one had to move with speed to avoid a ferocious onrushing
something
that one has upset with an ill-aimed ray-gun burst.

‘Interesting proposition,’ puffed the colonel. ‘Haven’t been to Mars for some years now.

Corporal Larkspur glanced around and about the terrace. Assured that he and the colonel were otherwise alone, he whispered, ‘Not Mars, but Venus.’

‘
Venus?’
Colonel Katterfelto added huffing to his puff. Then continued in hoarse whispers, saying, ‘Can’t hunt on Venus, old sport. Not permitted. Interplanetary treaty agreed with Her Majesty forbids it. Venusians take a very dim view of that kind of caper.’

‘They forbid it,’ agreed the Jovian. ‘But may I showest thee something?’ And from an ample pocket he produced a folded map. Which he unfolded. And displayed to Colonel Katterfelto.

‘Map of Venus?’ asked the colonel. ‘Not seen one of those before.’

‘Acquired as thou must imagine at a goodly price and after a right old struggle.’

‘Quite so.’ The colonel viewed the map with interest. ‘Seems to be mostly forest and plain,’ said he.

‘Jungle,’ whispered Corporal Larkspur. ‘But here liest the thing. They knowest their world as Magonia.’

Colonel Katterfelto knew this.

‘Their capital city is Rimmer.’

The colonel did not know
that.

‘There art five other cities. Enormous art they. But vastly doth the jungle cover the lands of Magonia. And sacred unto the people is it, such as they dare not enter, for such is sacrilege unto them. More power to our elbow, thusly.’

The colonel gave his mustachios a further thoughtful stroke. ‘There was an expedition,’ said he, ‘some years back. Big-game hunt led by an old chum of mine. Major Thadeus Tinker. Lost in jungle? Murdered by Venusians? Never came back to tell.’

‘I knowest.’ The Jovian refolded his map. ‘Such a venture requirest great bottle and wouldst be rewarded by great wonga.

Bottle and wonga?
queried the colonel. But he gathered the gist.

‘Expensive expedition to mount,’ he said. ‘How many in the hunting party?’

‘Twelve,’ replied the Jovian. ‘Thou, I, ten hunters that payest handsomely.’

‘And I would lead the party? Be in charge?’

‘As thou wisheth it,’ replied the Jovian.

‘And the remuneration?’

‘Ten thousand English pounds,’ the corporal suggested.

‘
Ten thousand pounds?’
Colonel Katterfelto grew breathless at the thought of such a fortune.

Corporal Larkspur, misinterpreting this breathlessness, said, ‘Let us say twenty thousand then, if thou wilt.’

The colonel all but swallowed his cigar.

‘Guineas then,’ said the Jovian. ‘Thou art a gentleman, of course. And dealest only in guineas.’

The colonel coughed and spat out his cigar. Which sailed over the terrace and down to the capital below. Where it would fall upon a lady in a straw hat, who having read the papers regarding the HYDE PARK CORNER MASSACRE would take it to be an aerial attack by the unwholesome Johnny Frenchman and get into an affray with a seller of horsehair biscuit that would lead to her subsequent arrest.

The Jovian patted the colonel’s back.

The colonel shook the Jovian by the hand.

‘I will lead the hunting party,’ said the colonel. ‘The expedition will take considerable time to organise. Need copious provisions. Appropriate firearms. All and sundry et cetera.’

‘We leavest in two days’ time,’ said the Jovian.

The colonel all but exploded. ‘Can’t be done, my dear fellow,’ he croaked. ‘Take months of planning.’

‘The ship is provisioned. For verily thus and so have I laboured these many months upon this expedition.’

‘Humph,’ humphed Colonel Katterfelto. ‘But left it to the very last minute to employ the services of one who would lead the hunting party.’

‘Not quite thusly so.’

‘Ah,’ said the colonel. ‘I get the picture. Pulled out at the eleventh hour, did he? Turned from fox to rabbit? Not a military man, I’ll wager.

‘A Venusian,’ said the Jovian.

‘Well, local knowledge will always be a big plus. Got cold feet in the end, though, did he?’

‘There was an accident. And sadly did he goeth on to his death.’

‘London roads can be treacherous,’ said the colonel. ‘Have to know your left hand from your right.’

‘An electrical accident,’ said the corporal.

‘Wet fingers,’ said the colonel. ‘Must not touch the socket with wet fingers.’

‘He exploded,’ said the corporal. ‘For verily had he retired as a huntsman, due unto an injury that felleth onto his hand. And lo he had taken unto himself a new profession here upon Earth. Disguised as an Englishman. Which art no small feat for a Venusian, but ‘appen he did pulleth it off.’

‘What was the name of this cove?’ asked the colonel.

‘Harry “Hurty-Finger” Hamilton,’ said the Jovian corporal.