“Is that why they keep playing the patriotic music?” Bill shouted so that he could be heard over the endless roar of bugles and drums that poured from the speakers. Tembo nodded.
“There is little time left to be saved, to assure your place in Samedi’s legions-”
“Why don’t you talk to Bowb Brown?” Bill screamed. “I got tomtoms coming out of my ears! Every time I look at a wall I see angels floating by on clouds. Stop bothering me! Work on Bowb—anybody who would do what he does with thoats would probably join up with your Voodoo mob in a second.”
“I have talked with Brown about his soul, but the issue is still in doubt. He never answers me, so I am not sure if he has heard me or not. But you are different, my son, you show anger, which means you are showing doubt, and doubt is the first step to belief …”
The music cut off in mid-peal, and for three seconds there was an echoing blast of silence that abruptly terminated.
“Now hear this. Attention all hands … stand by … in a few moments we will be taking you to the flagship for a on-the-spot report from the admiral … stand by …” The voice was cut off by the sounding of General Quarters but went on again when this hideous sound had ended. “… and here we are on the bridge of that gigantic conquistadore of the spacelanes, the twenty-mile-long, heavily armored, mightily gunned super battleship the Fairy Queen … the men on watch are stepping aside now and coming toward me in a simple uniform of spun platinum is the Grand Admiral of the Fleet, the Right Honorable Lord Archaeopteryx … Could you spare us a moment Your Lordship? Wonderfull The next voice you hear will be … “
The next voice was a burst of music while the fusemen eyed their fusebands, but the next voice after that had all the rich adenoidal tones always heard from peers of the Empire.
“Lads-we’re going into action! This, the mightiest fleet the galaxy has ever seen is heading directly toward the enemy to deliver the devastating blow that may win us the war. In my operations tank before me I see a myriad pinpoints of light, stretching as far as the eye can see, and each point of light-I tell you they are like holes in a blanket!—is not a ship, not a squadron-but an entire fleet! We are sweeping forward, closing in …”
The sound of tomtoms filled the air, and on the fuseband that Bill was watching appeared a matched set of golden gates, swinging open.
“Tembo!” he screamed. “Will you knock that off I want to hear about the battle …”
“Canned tripe,” Tembo sniffed. “Better to use the few remaining moments of this life that may remain to you to seek salvation. That’s no admiral, that’s a canned tape. I’ve heard it five times already, and they only play it to build morale before what they are sure is to be a battle with heavy losses. It never was an admiral, it’s ,from an old TV program …”
“Yippee!” Bill shouted, and leaped forward. The fuse he was looking at crackled with a brilliant discharge around the clips, and at the same moment the fuseband charred and turned from red to black. “Unggh!” he grunted, then “Unggh! Ungghl Ungghl” in rapid succession, burning his palms on the still hot fuse, dropping it on his toe, and finally getting it into a fuseway. When he turned back Tembo had already clipped a fresh fuse into the empty clips.
“That was my fuse you shouldn’t have …” there were tears in his eyes.
“Sorry. But by the rules I must help if I am free.”
“Well, at least we’re in action,” Bill said, back in position and trying to favor his bruised foot.
“Not in action yet, still too cold in here. And that was just a fuse breakdown, you can tell by the clip discharge, they do that sometimes when they get old.”
“… massed armadas manned by heroic troopers …”
“We could have been in combat.” Bill pouted.