Wednesday, October 10, 2007

CHAPTER 19 -BUNNIES AND WOLVES

“Ungh.” Punky hit the soft ground hard and in the blackness. The only light on the darkened polo field was the blaze of lights from the Montforte Detached Palace in the distance. The polo field was black and Punky could only feel the giant oaks around her and the dark form of the blimp a few yards above her head.

“Oh dear, I hope you didn’t hurt your self,” said Millicent Gellwat, a long time Detached Palace household staff member that Punky recognized from the incident in the Druid Grove. “My my, Punky, you must take more care.” Millicent was holding a copper lamp which provided the light of one candle power. Punky knew this because she could see the one candle in the lamp.

Punky unclipped the beeners and the figure eight. But she reattached them to the loops on the climbing harness which she did not remove.

“His Highness is waiting for you in the Reception of the Rival King Munderic The Burnt. Follow and watch your step. They were playing Polo this morning,” said Milicent in her sweet sing song motherly voice. On Punky’s second step her foot planted firmly in something mushy and wet.

As Punky approached the palace she noticed a long line of household staff carrying bundles and packages to a staging area near the tied off blimp. Several elderly staff were pushing wheelbarrows loaded high with fire wood. Carpenters where setting up a ramp. The same ramp that Punky knew they had used for the “Spirit of Io” when she put down here during the recent disturbance with the Order.

Punky blinked hard as she entered the Munderic wing of the palace. The room was enormous and after her eyes adjusted she saw Muffin and The Chair in the distance. They were smoking and drinking port as if nothing had happened in all of real or virtual life, except the need for a cookie or another sweet.

Punky was not in a good mood, but she was most happy to see both the Chair and Muffin obviously awaiting her arrival.

As Punky approached she noticed that she was tracking in muck and mud onto an ornate and ancient Flemish rug depicting the hunt and murder of a unicorn. Just like the Monfortes to have such a rug she thought.

“Ah Punky,” said the Chair. “We were worried you might be late.”

Muffin said nothing, but he frowned and puffed on his pipe as a small cumulonimbus cloud of smoke rose above his porti-throne. Muffin was not a man for chit chat or chat of any kind Punky remembered.

Punky had a million questions so she drew a deep breath and asked, “Was it Loopy Loo?”

The Chair looked at Punky with a perplexed look on his face and then he turned to Muffin. Muffin nodded.

“Yes, Punky, it was Loopy Loo and the NAGS. They caught us flat footed.”

“How many casualties at the Academy?” she asked with an edge of anger in her voice.

“More than 20 wounded, but no deaths thank the gods,” said The Chair.

“How much of the fleet remains?” she asked.

“The Blimp cartel fleet has been wiped out, all 32 of our ships. Even old ‘Spirit of Io’. The NAGS got her at the breakers yard,” said The Chair with great sadness.

“Theys got 80% of ta Blue Ocean Fleet,” said Muffin in the old tongue. “80%, its sickening. Ta Blue Navy ha casualties. HMS Indifferent, the old Indolent, and the Ironic gone. Destroyith on ta grounds.” Muffin was very upset Punky could tell because his meerschaum pipe was stone cold but he continued to puff.

“How long until you can load the Poofer with water, food and fuel?” Punky asked.

“You should be ready to go in about four hours. Just before dawn” said The Chair. “We have very little coal here and you will have to use cord wood just like in the ancient days. We have mostly olive wood, but it should substitute for a while.”

“I’m going to Zippys Blimp works at Fort Balatro if its still there,” said Punky in her voice of command.

“Oh yes,” said The Chair. “Loopy and the NAGS figured there was nothing there worth attacking, but you should be able to complete a decent refit there, although rushed. I sent a runner to the Chief Engineer and they will be waiting for you.”

“And then what?” asked Punky. “How do I get this Loopy Loo and repay her.”

The Chair looked to Muffin. Muffin shrugged. Punky realized they didn’t know.

“It’s best to stay aloft during the day and as long into the night as you can. I expect the Second Sea Lord here in the morning after they have assessed the damages and tended to the wounded. Perhaps we will know more then. I’ll send word to Zippy’s when we learn something”

“I need a set of carrier pigeons,” said Punky. “And some offensive weaponry.”

“At Zippys they may be able to fabricate a weapon of some kind, as for the pigeons they are all ready to be loaded. Oh and stay off the instant messaging system. It’s not secure, not in the least. As for weapons we dont really have anything."

“I figured that,” said Punky. “How about ancient weapons, swords, knives, blunderbuss, that kind of stuff?” asked Punky in a determined voice.

“Yesf, yesf,” said Muffin, “I’ll ha Millicent visit ta armory in ta eastern wing, or was tha ta western wing. Is been such a long times.”

”I have to tend to the loading of the ship.” Punky turned and walked swiftly from the room. Then at the doorway she turned and asked “What are the NAGS?”

The Chair responded “The NAGS are bad eggs Punky. There called the Nerds And Griefers Syndicate and Loopy Loo is the kingpin.”

Punky turned and raced out the door.

“Goods luck Punkys,” said Bradford Cananticle Monforte IV, Royal, Dauphan of Second Life, “the future of Second Life may well be in your hands.”

Punky was gone out the door. She had not heard Muffin’s last words.

Kees had stretched out on the top of the hill above the village square. The fisherfolk had gone home and only the two sleeping snipers in the church tower remained watching the port of Jurang. The boss in the green suit, followed by his two colleagues had exited into one of the stone cottages. Soon smoke began to rise from the chimney. Kees feigned sleep in the warm sunshine.

High over head seagulls floated and an occasional gull’s cry punctuated the stillness and the regular rhythm of the sea and the shore. A small boy dressed in ill fitting but warm tweed coat walked across the village square dragging a wooden fish trap toward one of the cottages. In about half an hour the kid appeared again with another battered fish trap. Just like at home, thought Kees, the kid was stealing fish traps.

Kees saw a ship far out at sea along the horizon line. Within an hour it was gone. Clouds began to form high above, and as Kees lay on the grass staring at the sky he could see bunnies forming. Bunnies and then wolves.

I could live here someday thought Kees. This is just the place I could retire to. Kees laughed. Omega squad members never retired. They usually disappeared one day and then a service was held in the Long White Hall. No, they never retired. However spending a long vacation here or getting the Second Sea Lord to sponsor a sea squid research station for a summer was always possible. I wonder if that young lass with Macboy has a sister thought Kees.

At about three a fog bank appeared out on the Inland Sea and by four the cold wet clouds began to descend upon the village. Soon the church steeple was blanketed and obscured by the descending fog. Kees saw Macboy strolling down the hill from the barn. He was alone and was softly singing a tune Kees recognized.

“If all the rest o Adam’s race,
Was assembled in this place,
I’d part with all without one tear,
Before I’d part with you, my dear.”

Macboy tipped his cap as he approached Kees.

Macboy began talking low and looking toward the descending fog. “They came here a week ago, five of them in a private yacht named ‘Ill Wind’. The yacht had about 20 on board and left immediately after they came ashore. It has not been seen in the region since. They rented a cottage and claimed they were looking for a place to build a coelacanth packing house, but they fooled no one. The waters here are too warm and too shallow for coelacanths. The locals figured they were money launders or such, because they spent a lot of lindens on food, grog, and fuel. A lot of lindens. And in these remote lands, money speaks loudly. They stay to themselves in the rented cottage there and don’t visit the pub which is a kind of insult in Jurang Port. The ferry is overdue, but it frequently breaks down. The messaging system is always flaky here so no one is alarmed. The fishing fleet will return tomorrow and we can probably rent a boat and a captain to take us to Meola. Perhaps we should avoid Meola and land on the coast.”

Kees nodded as the fog enveloped them. “How’s the last line of that song go Macboy?”

Macboy sang the last few lines.

“And it’s oh dear grog, thou art my darling.
And my joy both night and morning”

“Never met a girl named Grog,” joked Kees. “Let’s go have a drink.”

Macboy smiled. He was thinking about an appetizer too.

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