Ticklers Page 32
81.
Chivalry was Renton's hallmark as well. It had to be. He was a knight. But chivalry did not preclude chicanery. And that's what had helped him survive.
Thugs were thick, OK? And a little chicanery mixed with a handful of duplicity and just a dash of temerity could work wonders. And it had done. By making them think that he had something to tell them - and something that might save their ship - he had bought himself some time, a few vital seconds. They had hesitated in their intended assault. They had not killed him immediately.
Then, before they knew what was happening, the bridgeroom had filled with rocks and the sound of air rushing out. And he was with helmet and they were without.
And then it was just a matter of getting away from the Godhead before he got caught in its death throes. Not easy, but he was a knight and a knight with a helmet. And he was a good floater. Some said an easy floater. And there were plenty of holes to float out of.
So he'd made it. And now with the help of his friends he was going to make it all the way home, intact, unhurt and as proud as could be. Hell, on top of everything else, hadn't he finally proved to himself that he was a real knight after all? Even if he might still have a problem with his left and his right sometimes…
82.
So the business was done, the business of killing Kanker and destroying his deadly machine. No more would the breath of the pretender-god threaten a world. Never again would his likeness loom in the skies. It was finished. The beast had been slain. The monster was dead.
But what of the memory of the monster? Did his name liveth on? After all, other gods had perished, some seemingly intentionally - and only then had their divine credentials become apparent. Could it be the same with Kanker? Would his death be his path to the godship he craved? Would strangulation be the gateway to deification? Had Grader killed a man and created a myth, a divine myth that would one day be seen as a god?
Well no. Kanker's passing did leave some legacies but not the ones he would have wanted, and none of them was remotely divine. Oh, and all of them were transient in the extreme.
The first, of course, was the trouble on Shrubul - which, in the end, was no trouble at all. Renton's rapid removal of the Godhead's breath meant that the planet received only a fraction of the intended dose of dust. And rather than permanent darkness on that world, there was just a season of beauty: four months of wondrous sunsets as the thin film of dust in Shrubul's upper skies added colour to its sun's evening light. Then it was gone - along with the president of that place and most of his cronies. And Kanker's first legacy was forgotten.
The second had a similarly brief life. It was Godhead scavenging in the Zuzpenda belt. A short-lived fad, which died a death within weeks. It was far too dangerous and not in the least bit rewarding. Nobody, it appeared, seemed to be too interested in scraps of Godhead. And as memorabilia, they were virtually worthless. Most of it stayed where it was, spinning around for eternity in the company of rocks. And as anonymous and as un-thought-of as rocks. So no lasting legacy there.
The third could have been much more successful in the longevity stakes, but it too succumbed to the rapid shrivelling of interest in anything to do with the madman. It was a game: Godopoly - where the objective was to build a miniature Godhead and then dominate the universe before your opponents did. It was a flop. Even the luxury version, with onyx pieces for the Godhead and real D-lastic type dust. And they all made a mess in the lounge…
So that was it: the deadly dust was soon returned to the confines of just knickers - and Kanker was returned to the realms of oblivion - at double-quick speed. Nothing less than the most fitting of memorials to the man and his works.
But then there was the League. The League after Kanker's departure.
There were changes here, vast changes. But none of them had anything at all to do with Kanker. They were all to do with the absence of Kanker. They were inevitably therefore all changes for the better.
Democracy broke out. The League was to be run by its knights again - all of them. Korpulund would no longer be the home of all power, but just the focus of power, a power now shared by even the furthest flung office. And at the same time, the League's profits would be shared fairly. The way knights were rewarded was revised - dramatically. And all these radical developments were made with the help of a brand new Council and a brand new Senior Knight, one who was faithful to their founder's ideals in every respect: Grader. He was not a god but he was a godsend. And he worked wonders for the Ticklers. The movement began to live again. Its spirit returned. Once more, the League was a good place to be. And, most important of all, chivalry was reinstated. No longer was it an option for clients prepared to pay a premium. It was standard fare, free with all services, once more something set at the very centre of the Tickler way of doing things.
Meitchars and For-bin-Ah both had a hand in the return to these “old ways”. Grader had made sure that they were heavily involved in advising his new Council. But they didn't join the Council - even though they were both invited. They preferred to stay in Pandiloop and carry on with their Pandiloop life, the real life of a true Tickler. However enlightened the new regime in Korpulund might be, Korpulund and everything to do with being at the centre of things was not for them. They were happy where they were.
They had two new knights with them as well. Two Pandiloop troopers promoted to the partnership. One of them was as a replacement for Renton. He had left the League.
It was Madeleine's doing really. Soon after the Kanker campaign, she had decided to quit the Dustforce. She had seen enough dust to last her for the rest of her life. And she now yearned for something new, something in particular: detective work - Boz's sort of detective work. The more she learned of what he now did, the more she wanted to do it herself. And that's what she did. She became Boz's first partner in his detective practice, the one he'd left ticking over while he was away at the wars.
This unsettled Renton. In fact, it made him aware that he was already unsettled. He had loved his time in the League, and the friendships he had formed in the Pandiloop office would last for the rest of his life. He had, after all, been through so much with Meitchars, For-bin-Ah and all the troopers there. But ultimately, tickling just wasn't for him, not for a lifetime. The League, although now a healthy one, was a huge one. And he had this thing about large organisations. And the nature of the work… well, he wasn't certain he wanted to be a fighter for the rest of his life - even though he had now proved himself - in every last aspect of combat…
No, he wanted to move into something more like… well, more like detective work. A small firm maybe, where somebody could show him the ropes, somebody he knew who was taking on another novice with whom he could compare notes. Yes, he would join Boz. It was perfect. He'd be doing just what he wanted to do with the two people who meant the most to him in his life.
Yes, Boz would have a second new partner.
Mind, it wasn't easy. Leaving the League, leaving Meitchars, For-bin-Ah and the Pandiloop troopers was going to be a terrible wrench. And he wavered. He wavered a great deal. But in the end it was Madeleine again. Madeleine who made him take that most difficult of steps. She'd confided in him. She'd told him that when it came to the crunch, she'd chose a plain old dick over a Tickler any day. So how could he refuse?
Well, it wouldn't have been chivalrous, would it?
THE END
*
The Renton Tenting Series
Dumpiter
Ticklers
Lollipop
Also by David Fletcher
Crats
Eggshell in Scrambled Eggs
www.thetrouserpresspress.co.uk
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