Continued...

3

No time to feel sorry for ourselves as we materialised in the long, dim-lit corridor that led to the Throne Room. Had to get on, enemy all around us. Clock ticking. We were all togged up in black like Quiet and Deadly Me now, and we all carried short, light rifles, on which we had had only the barest training.

The corridor was broken by a series of arches which presumably supported the low roof. The walls were smooth but covered in pipes and cables and odd looking devices that flashed and beeped and hummed. 

We ran and it wasn't long before we encountered the first of the Emperor's guards.

Automatons apparently. No minds or souls, just machinery, and weapons built into their sleek, androgynous bodies. They didn't need clothes, which was a bit disconcerting.

We faced about a dozen of them, strung out across our path, two deep.

A moment, sweat on the old brow, thumbs on firing buttons, rifles at our hips.

Then the guards lowered their arms and frowned. They looked at us, eyes flicking from one me to another. But they didn't fire.

"Hah, as I suspected," Boiler Suit Me said. "They're programmed to protect Grant-Bowling, so they can't shoot at us. Come on, follow me, look lively." He set off towards them, without looking back to see if we were at his shoulder. Mark of a good officer, trusts his men, and women. 

I was a bit unnerved at simply running into enemy ranks without firing at them. I sensed the others felt the same.

Boiler Suit Me reached the guards.

Who drew apart and let him through.

"Might be a trap," breathed Lady Christine Me.

"Eyes peeled," I responded, rather pleased she had voiced her concerns to me and not any of the others.

Passing through those guards was pretty alarming. They stared, intently. I could almost hear their brains whirring and ticking and trying to work out why this was all wrong. Didn't like it, didn't like it at all.

But we were through.

There were more confused (hopefully) guards ahead, and beyond them, the Throne Room door.

Quiet and Deadly suddenly stopped. I almost blundered into him. He swung round, shoved me aside and opened fire on the guards we had just passed. Beams of hot light sliced the air and tore the automatons to pieces. I was appalled. Boiler Suit Me was shouting. Then Lady Christine Me joined in the mayhem, laughing as she did so. That got my blood up. I pressed the firing button. The last of the guards died, broke, or whatever automatons do.

"Could have been a trap," Quiet and Deadly Me snapped when we had finished. Don't think that was the real reason the chap opened fire though. I think we all felt the same, despite the arguments and recriminations. It was the feeling that simply walking through an enemy without fighting them was not right. Was unnatural. Was wrong in every possible way. Someone was always going to snap.

Anyway, we had a fight on our hands now, because the other guards seemed to have resolved their confusions and were charging down the corridor, firing as they came.

This was more like it.

Transparent Me went down first. Pity but war is war. He tried not to scream, tried to be brave as the juices poured out of him and his body shrivelled and shrank.

We used the archways as cover. Weaved and dodged between them, synchronised our firing, took turns to rush forward. No orders necessary. We just knew. Never been a fighting unit like it, and never will be again. Even the best trained platoon couldn't anticipate and understand each other the way we could. Even Timid Me got into the spirit of the thing, and as for National Trust Me, fine woman and splendid soldier, can't begin to describe how well she acquitted herself that day.

Quiet and Deadly fell during the last assault on the door. Heroically dashing into the smoke and rubble, magnetic charges in one hand, rifle in the other. Torn and bleeding, he crawled the last few feet and slammed the explosives against the door's smooth metal surface. The blast finished him off. Thing of beauty in its own way.

We burst into the Throne Room even before the noise of the explosion had died away.

And there he was.

Emperor Grant-Bowling I.

4

Every bit as impressive in the flesh as he had been on that holograph. As was his Throne Room, all marble pillars and vaulted ceilings, decorated with the most breath-taking murals of gods and armies and exploding planets. The sort of thing Michelangelo would have painted, had he been around these days.

Emperor Me smiled, a little sadly I think. "You could have just walked in. The guards wouldn't have stopped you."

"Liar!" snarled Lady Christine Me. "It was a trick, a set-up."

"No, really dear girl, the guards would never have dared shoot at you, until you started blasting away at them like that. Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"Well, to put it bluntly, we've come to stop your crazed conquest of the multiverse," Boiler Suit Me said.

"Ah, how tiresome. Look, I rather think you've got the wrong end of the stick."

"I don't think so, The Council of All the Universes have been watching your activities. We've seen the armies massing at the borders, the millions of war vessels your factories have been churning out. We've even tracked your incursions -"

"Recce missions old chap. Look, it's not that simple. You're interfering in things you don't understand I'm afraid. You see, there is another me, us, call it what you will, who is even worse than you seem to think I am. He wants to break down the walls between universes, he revels in chaos. I happen to be the only one strong enough to hold the blighter in check. That's the advantage of doing away with democracy, of course, you can build up and maintain your strength, unhindered by such inconveniences as opposition and protest."

"Nonsense, you're planning an invasion"

"A defence, and out of my own pocket, I'll have you know -"

I couldn't tell which of us fired first. Died like a man though, I have to hand it to him. Not even a whimper as our weapons carved him up into so much sizzling offal.

When it was done, we all stood there, looking first at what was left of the Emperor, then at each other. I have to say, I was a little uneasy. Was Emperor Me telling the truth?

No, lying to save his own skin. That's what I would have done if I was outnumbered like he was.

"Well done," Boiler Suit was saying. I noticed that he was wielding the glass gun again. "Splendid job. But we've overstayed our welcome, fabric's under strain so we'd best be getting along home. Before you go however, I would like to say -"

He didn't say it. He was cut down, chopped up, burned and melted. Lady Christine Me fired first, but I have to confess, I did join in.

Didn't want to go home, you see. Not back to that empty house, Radio 4 and The Moral Bloody Maze. Not when there was a universe, and possibly even a multiverse, for the taking. I got the feeling that none of the others were keen to be off either.

No one moved.

Until…

I think we all fired at once this time. None of us were hit though.

We scattered for cover, shooting as we went, blasting chunks of marble out of the pillars, scorching the artwork on the ceiling, reducing the furnishings and hangings to smouldering rags. Belly down, I lifted my head cautiously and saw Reptile Me on his hands and knees only a few feet away. He looked a bit stunned. Blasting beams were flicking over my head. Rubble was blown off the wall, there was a lot of dust. I moved carefully drew a bead on his scaly hide and fired.

First one down.

A beam carved a hole in the wall above my head. Lady Christine Me burst out of the dust and smoke, firing from the hip. I scrabbled at my rifle but couldn't find the firing button. Then the woman was picked up and thrown backwards, blazing from head-to-toe.

I saw National Trust Me, smoke-smudged, grinning, her weapon smoking. By God, she really was magnificent. Just my type. I gave her the thumbs up and together we moved in on Timid Me.

Don't know what the Book of Common Prayer says about bonking one's self, but when we cleared the opposition, I was going to take a chance on divine retribution and break every bally rule in Heaven and Hell

Then I would have to do away with her or course. Before she did away with me.

A double flash, two weapons, and Timid Me was no more.

Now we were four.