Now, because this story is supposed to be about the TEABAG goblins, and not about Ruhtra, we return to them.
Ginster craned his head forward to the place where they saw Ruhtra mashed up. He brought the Talent in low and hovered over the area. “Some help please gentlemen,” he shouted at the goblins.
The posh goblins jumped down from the airship and began to look about on the ground like greedy men looking for a penny. Soft Ann trained her gun towards the enemy tower.
As the goblins were availing a message came through on the overly large radio communication equipment. “We've had a report, from the Fenegans, that Ruhtra's at Brug in the North of the island.”
The yeti captain nodded in acknowledgement and signalled back, “Righto!“ He then shouted to the away team, “It's OK, he's not here, he's in Brug.”
Sighing as they all climbed back onto the Talent the goblins moaned especially Vinigrette, “They could have contacted us sooner.”
Something might have happened at the tower, but I had not thought of anything and Lord D'ark wanted to rest after the shock of being shot at by a female Bigfoot (well, wouldn't you?)
Traiton however, being an android, did not need to rest and thought he'd lead a goblin hunting party to hunt the goblins. He just caught a whiff of the Talent (it must have been Bartram's eau de cologne) and mobilised an armoured steam vehicle. (Though not a tank, they hadn't been invented yet - unless you count the one by Da Vinci.)
There was no way a steam powered armoured vehicle was going no to catch a nippy little airship so I had to think of a plot device where that might be possible.
Or I could just say that the Talent breaks down for just long enough to allow the steam tank to get in front and of them and block their way to the Fenegan entry post.
This could lead to a long, drawn out section where they all bond together, but I read Lord of the Rings when I was 19 and the bit with Sam and Frodo really slowed me down, so...
“There,” sighed Soft Ann as she placed the wrench on the deck plate, wiped her dirty brow with a cloth (though you couldn't really tell) and climbed up to the rest of them. “Who would have believed I would have to do a full engine rebuild with a multi-wrench and a Swiss army knife.”
Vinigrette looked at Smetherwick, “Was the Swiss army knife invented this early?”
“Who can tell without Google?”
The yeti called out as he grabbed the steering wheel, “Let's fire her up.”
As the electric motor began to whirr the finely balanced Tesla coils did their work and the Talent started to rise gently.
“Who would have thought,” remarked Tunning-Cymbals, “two weeks in enemy territory rebuilding an electric engine, hiding from goblin scouts and living on iron rations.”
“At least we won't be anaemic when we get back.”
“Eh? I thought you were going to say something about Wolfenstein and Enemy Territory.”
Before I could think of anything Bartram zipped the Talent towards the end of the story.
There, parked before the outpost, chugged, hissed and steamed the steam tank (although it should really be described in another manner.) Traiton ordered the crew to, “Load the cannon, I can see them.” A single shot wouldn't do, they really needed more firepower, maybe a couple of machine guns!
The Talent way outgunned the steam tank but one good shot from its opponent would do for her. Bartram knew this and therefore kept his distance, hovering over 500 yards away. “So this is why we were held up for two weeks.”
Ann commented, “We can tank them on.”
“Eh? It's an Armoured, Steam Driven, Artillery Gun so the acronym should be ASDAG.”
“It's ASDAG price?” misquoted Ann, but only those people who have seen the ASDA advert, of the well known Northern British superstore chain, would get that reference.
“Stop being so obscure, I have only ever heard about the ASDA supermarket chain from looking at future copies of the Times FT share index.”
“Huh!“ puffed the female bigfoot knowing that he was being just as obscure. She looked through her iron sights, “Are we just going to look at them or what?”
“I think we need a diversion, draw their line of fire. We also need to know how quickly they can re-load that thing, because that's the time we have to close on them for the kill.”
“What about the armour though, won't the Hotchkiss cannon shells just bounce off?”
“I don't know, I haven't been in an action before with a heavily armoured vehicle. We will have to take our chances.” He shouted down to the galley, “Oi, you three, you're the diversion. Get out of the Talent, with the flare pistol, and get close enough to fire it into their front window. When you have, get out of the way quickish, Soft Ann and I will finish them off.”
This irked all three of the TEABAG goblins, for not only were they half way through their afternoon tea, but that they would also have to harm other goblins. They all started grumping about the spoiled tea and how inappropriate for upper class, traitor goblins, to kill lower classes in the pay of some off-worlder female empire builder who must look like a man, for that is what her impersonator was.
“I CAN HEAR YOU MOANING,” shouted Bartram, “get the flare gun, get off the ship and get going, or I'll let Ann fire a few rounds at you!“
“Well really,” tutted Smetherwick, as he fumbled for the flare gun and his green jacket.
“We'd better not get killed in this stupid adventure,” re-tutted Vinigrette.
Tunning-Cymbals jumped to the ground ahead of them and crouched in typical goblin manner.
“Stop messing around TC,” reprimanded Smetherwick, “your mother's genetic line is not that bad.”
Tunning-Cymbals straightened up with a, “Cheek! I don't mind harming Traiton,” he admitted, “but I draw the line at hurting other goblins, unless they're from the Black Hand Gang.”
“Well that goes without saying. Traiton is an android after all, and part of the evil Nefad.”
“So kill him and just blind the other goblins? Unless they're Black Handers.”