The tent

Hi All,

Part II

Around the edge of the tent sat three others of the of MESS or  Martian External Security Service, officially part of the Foreign Office :  "Rabbi" Jack David, Secretary of the Foreign Office "out doors"  recreation and swimming practice; "Vedek" Sir Jim Kumar who ran the Foreign Office "acquisitions and Hedge fund"  practice ; and "Rural Dean" Lord Swallowdon,  Secretary to the Emperor,  the 'Walsingham' of the Martian Empire,  whose hands manipulated kings, bishops and knights of several governments as part of the Foreign Office "chess team and social club " practice.

'Glad you could join us, bird' said Swallowdon aka the rural dean . He was by all appearance an old - in fact 67 million years-   snow white haired man dressed like an Edwardian Gentleman come village Parson : courtly , tall and bespectacled and sad looking, with a deep rich voice that seemed to come out of something larger than himself.

' No problem' the  Bird  replied. He poured a cup of tea from the central table and sat himself down into the deck chair  left for him.

'A problem has arisen' said the Vedek , ' We need your departments help'

The bird nodded.  A list of the universe's most villainous riff raff appeared in mind :  ruthless hordes of Daleks, legions of Cybermen and their cousins the Borg, religious zealots of the Derek of Luton Church, the slave Empire and blood sucking crazies of Leopoldie, or the crazed, sadistic and psychopathic Hamster men of Hamstarar. ' Gladly. I'm always happy to stuff the raw sage and onion of Martian justice up the raw  turkey of galactic oppression'. 

The Vedek nodded to the Rabbi . 'One told you he was keen'.

The Rural Dean leaned across to him . ' Our colleague's department, called the Glasgow KISS, should it actually exist , he said, looking towards the bird , ' would have carried out  some fantastic work over the past couple of centuries. Recall the Hamster men Minister of Communication ? Or the disappearance of Davros?  Had we been responsible in any official or unofficial way, it's our colleague here you'd have to thank for taking them off to the wooden hills of Bedfordshire'.

The Rabbi raised his eyebrows , 'oy, that was your work ?'

' One will only say that we can only hope to retain Martian gentleness , justice and decency by protecting ourselves'.

'So what happened to them'?

' We shot the genocidal war criminal bastards'. The bird shrugged. ' They received a fair and balanced trial by the Emperor herself.  So what is the problem you need fixing, haven't you tried any of the other services  ?'

The appalled look and sputtering that followed suggested that this was no option .  'Those oiks?! The Vedek said in exasperation. 'They'd only steal the sandwiches'

The Rabbi said 'oy vey and the furniture'

'You know I've heard that the others aren't even educated at Cambridge or Snowflake . To think that the whole blasted Foreign Office, going .... redbrick!' The Rural Dean shuddered.

'Gentleman please'. The bird's eye narrowed. ' what matters here is skill , not Estate. My people are chosen on ability , whether a Cambridge punt is a way of incapacitating someone. What matters here is preservation of common decency and we use the best tools for the job. And my people are the best in this  business'.

'Indeed they are '  admitted the Rural Dean. A  dongle flew from his pocket and the bird just managed to catch it. 'Herein is a detailed file , but a few hours ago and a dimension away from here our homeland was attacked. Esther's Souk, the heart of the Empire's financial services was attacked in a terrorist outrage , leaving 45 dead and 346  injured . You are to find the culprits and , report back to myself and the Emperor . No vigilantism . Do you understand?'

Shocked as he was by this news - having spent a while away from the homeland universe- the bird  stood from his seat and said 'I understand'.

And with that the game was afoot...