17. The Raiders in Chryme Alley I
The Debian Raiders never did anything in half measures. This time was no exception. When they decided to crash-land, they crashed and burned with the best. However, to once again highlight the fact that there was no justice in the universe, instead of going down in flames as they should have, the Raiders recovered from their first contact with the new planet thanks to their ejection seats.
One by one, they arrived at the meeting place. The poor ship which had laboured so hard to bring them to this planet bid goodbye to this world by way of little explosions and a few hisses and crackles, in the background. Despite the fact that none of them were seriously injured, the crash-landing had left its mark upon all of the Raiders. Some had torn clothing, others had dirt and grass smears and still others limped over carrying their gear. Alb was the last one to arrive since he'd been unlucky enough to have his ejection get caught up on the one single tree that stuck out like a sore thumb from the landscape. Alb was munching on some leaves and was going into raptures about how good they tasted. Except for that tree, it was just empty land, grass and shrubs and lots of huge rifts - no trees, no animals - for as far as the eye could see.
Once they were all accounted for, Rod suggested that they change their appearance. This started a heated debate amongst the Raiders, as almost anything did, about the merits of this idea. They really didn't need a disguise since they were physiologically identical to the race that inhabited the planet. At least, that's what their reports had indicated. So, a change of clothing and some time with their hypno-trainers should have been the only preparation necessary for this mission.
Or rather, that would have been enough if you'd been sane. But then again, it could be argued that you never went into the mercenary trade if you were the least bit sane. Rod had decided that an exercise in disguise would help them stay at the top of their form. While some of the Raiders muttered about what form Rod would end up in if he kept this up, they eventually went along with Rod's decision since they knew from bitter experience that it was better to give in than to argue when a notion got into Rod's head[1].
By all rights, the Raiders should have had no equipment at all due to the fact that their ship had gone up in flames. But experience can be a great teacher for even the most thick-skulled student given that the said student has the lesson knocked into his skull enough times. The brothers had had this particular lesson ingrained into them so many times that they now insisted on custom ejection seats for any ship they used - the seats had to be redesigned to hold not just a Raider but his gear as well. So the Raiders, while without any means to get off the ground, did at least have all of their equipment and weaponry at their disposal.
Now that a decision had been made, the Raiders set to with a will, putting in some inspired work with paint and powder, from which they emerged looking a lot like clowns[2]. While some unkind souls might have argued that this was the proper look for them, the Raiders decided that the new look wouldn't do. It was back to scrubbing their faces clean and a change of clothes. Finally, the Debian Raiders were ready to be on the prowl.
Navigating the ravaged land turned out to be a mission on its own. The chasms at some points were so deep that you couldn't see bottom. Given that the Raiders were not the best when it came to navigating and that they weren't very familiar with the land around Kabul City, it was another testament to their incredible luck that they got out of the badlands and made it to the city at all. But they did make it and they even managed to get through the city gates without much hassle - it was evening rush hour and the guards were too busy controlling the outgoing traffic to worry too much about newcomers. But the Raiders did not go unnoticed for long.
It had been a while since they'd been off-planet and they had completely forgotten the fact that twelve identical-looking individuals taking a stroll might cause some stares and comments. Their memories were jogged soon enough - in fact, almost as soon as they got out of the crowded lanes and were seen as a group, and periodically thereafter. A hasty council of war by the roadside had resulted in Sal coming up with the idea that splitting up into smaller groups might be the way to go since it might not be as noticeable as a large group of identical individuals. Thus it was that the Raiders made their way slowly towards the heart of Kabul City in ones and twos.
The cavalcade of clones which was proceeding on its merry way came to a sudden halt when they turned in to Chryme Alley[3]. Or rather, Sal, who was in the vanguard, stopped on hearing a voice which came from the deepest, darkest depths of the alley.
"That's 'im! That's 'im! Grab 'im! Oh no wait, the one behind 'im, that's the one! No, the other one! They're all 'im! Get 'em all!"
"What in tarnation? Varlet, step forth and let me see with mine own eyes who accosteth me!"
As the words left his lips, Sal realized that his hypno-trainer had probably slipped a relay again. The words sounded a bit strange - though they had every right to sound strange since he had not spoken this language before in his life. A quick mental review of the latest knowledge that his mind had acquired was all he needed to see that he needed to change a few things in the way he spoke. He hoped that he'd get it right on the next try.
"Varlet? Is 'e speaking to us Abdul?" came the same voice from the recesses of the alley.
"I mean, what's up, dude?" asked Sal, trying again.
"I'd say you, bro! And probably fairly high too ... and definitely swinging by your neck, when Chu gets a'hold of you!" said the speaker while stepping out of the murky depths of the alley into a slightly less dark patch of, well, darkness. Sal could see that he was an unsavoury looking character - bewhiskered, dressed in black[4] and probably smelled bad as well. That was a comfort - they had tangled with scores of unsavoury characters in their career and knew how to handle them. The only problem was that the usual venue for meeting such people had been the local bar - not a dark alley in a strange city.
To be continued ....
[1] Notions usually found it really difficult to get into Rod's head - his brothers said that it was because how hard headed he was. Rod believed that it was because all the good notions were already in his head and there was no more room in there.
[2] This was something the Raiders excelled at - they usually emerged from all of their missions looking like clowns.
[3] This wasn't a new battle tactic whereby they became a single fighting unit by chanting some ancient mantra. They'd investigated the possibilities of doing that but it had not panned out. The cost of ancient mantras had been prohibitively steep. Even an instruction manual on the five-point palm exploding heart technique cost an arm and a leg, not to mention a heart, these days.
[4] As any self-respecting criminal would tell you, not only does black allow you to blend into the darkness, it hides dirt and grease stains well.
