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The Civvers of Doom

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  • The Civvers of Doom

    A small, brown, bald gentleman sat sitting crosslegged in a corner beside a small fire, rubbing his grubby little hands worriedly and paying close attention to the glutinous blob roasting on the end of his tongs. He kept looking up at the stars with his one good eye; the other was hidden beneath his patch. He whistled a traditional native tune and waited for his companions to join him.

    "Lord Gandhi," croaked a tall, bearded, turbanned individual.

    "Yes, Parumbi?" he answered in his squeaky little voice, fumbling with his clothes. "What news?"

    "Well, master, I had a meeting with the Englishman..."


    "Yes, m'lord, Snell," responded Parumbi, nodding in assent. "Very understandable fellow, very understanding as well. He is unlike most Englishmen in that he is completely trustworthy."

    "...For a black market arms dealer..." muttered Gandhi.

    "I am sure of his usefulness, sir," continued Parumbi. "I'd stake my life on it."

    "I'll remember that."

    "He's been speaking to his contacts, O Lordly One, and has assured me that he will be delivering the goods one week from tomorrow at the agreed location. It'll be all very smooth, Eminence, and I expect no trouble. Besides, he'll be alone, and we'll expect him to test the weapons himself. If anything goes wrong, well, we'll just kill him. Easily done. He wouldn't dare break his word under such circumstances. He's an Englishman, and you know how they are."

    "They defeated the Mughals easily enough."

    "But only because of their superior weapons, my liege," continued Parumbi, looking at him with his big brown eyes in the most pitiable fashion. "They will not succeed when we have such machines. I saw them demonstrated, and there is no way that the Englishmen could destroy them. It's just a matter of..."

    "...Applying the means, I know, I know, I've heard it all before. But there have been other Snells, other weapons..."

    Gandhi was getting old and world-weary. The last uprising had been squashed rather quickly, and he'd lost his eye in the process to boot. Worst of all, the bloody arms dealer had gotten away before he'd had a chance to extract revenge, and that was most unsatisfactory. If you can't have a decent uprising, well, you might as well sate your desire for revenge on the little craven traitor...but he had been deprived of that this time around. It would not happen again.

    "But there's only one Parumbi!" exclaimed his lieutenant with a proud little smirk.

    "Shut up," said Gandhi, fumbling for his Mauser.

    "I'm sorry, O Beneficient, Benevolent, Buoyant One..." said Parumbi, nervously. "I was just hoping to, you know, assuage your fears..."

    Gandhi rose to his feet. Had he not been very, very short, he might have been awe-inspiring.

    "The Great Lord Gandhi is afraid of nothing!" he shouted. "But I will not tolerate failure twice in a row, Parumbi! The English pigs have held sway over my land long enough, and I will not tolerate the Hawk and Sparrow of their flag fluttering over New Delhi for yet one more year! The Indian people have too long been pressed into the dust! It is time for us to snatch defeat from the..."

    "Victory, sir."

    "Victory from the defeat of..."

    "Jaws of..."

    "Jaws of defeat! Therefore, Parumbi, I cannot tolerate fools! This is your last chance! If you fail me this time, Parumbi, if you fail me this time..."

    "You'll...exile me?"

    "No, that'd be too pleasant."

    "Oh," said Parumbi, with a gulp.

    Colonel Snipps whistled at his parakeet in an airy fashion as he traipsed about in his office. He really didn't care much for paperwork, so he usually forced it upon his adjutants, and consequently never really had anything to do.

    "How are you, Lemuel?" he said after tweeting a little bit to him. He tapped on the bars of the cage. "How is my little friend? Getting chubby on the millet, I see. Bit hoggish, aren't you? Must cut down somewhat, mustn't we? Can't have a great big chubby parakeet, can we? Too tempting for Silky, wouldn't you be?" He looked aside at the black cat sleeping on his desk. "But Lemuel has nothing to fear with his dutiful friend Snipps is around. Silky is just an old sweetheart anyway."

    "Righty-o, guv," squawked the parakeet.

    Somebody began to knock at the door, and the Colonel turned about crossly.

    "What is it now, Snively?"

    "Sorry, sir," said Major Snively, popping into the room. "There's been a call from Pivvle..."

    "What does Pivvle have to say?"

    "Oh, it's nothing much, but..."

    Snively seemed to be hesitant to say.

    "There's something very odd down at his sector."

    "What, greasy zamindars peddling illegal wares again? Have 'em dealt with in the..."

    "No, sir, it''s something quite unique."

    "Oh, for heaven's sake, what now, what now? Look, as you can see, I'm really very busy. Lemuel needs to have his water changed."

    "I'm sorry, sir, but he needs your advice. On his patrol this morning, he found that there was something in the market that hadn't been there yesterday."

    "Smuggled in, what?"

    "No, not a trade item..."

    "No Greek spices, what? Not since the Aztec embargo, I dare say. I thought we'd put a bloody end to that."

    "No, I said, sir, no trade item."

    "Then what?"

    "It's...a police box."


    "You know, sir, for making calls to stations."

    "Here? How terribly odd."

    "The chaps have taken it out and brought it along here, if you'd care to take a look. It's locked and, since it's not supposed to be there anyway, we don't have a key."

    "Oh, cripes, this really is the silliest thing I ever heard. Look, you can deal with this without my... SILKY! NO!"

    He smacked the cat away from the cage.

    "You nearly gave Lemuel a heart attack!" continued Colonel Snipps, shaking his finger at the cat.

    "Right, sir," said Snively. "I'll just go and have a look."

    "You do, that, you do that..." Snipps then picked up Silky and stroked his head. "Oh, and send Sergeant Burlestone to change the water in Lemuel's cage, there's a good chap."

    "Right, sir."

    "Good afternoon," said someone in a rather deep voice, peaking a curly head in through the window and flashing a very white smile. The astonished Snipps noted that he was wearing a very long multi-colored scarf around his head...despite the fact that it was a very distinctly warm day. "I was wondering if you could tell me what you're doing with my police box."

    Empire growing,
    Pleasures flowing,
    Fortune smiles and so should you.

  • #2
    Yes, it's the product of the most insanely drunken bet ever concerning CivIII and Doctor Who...

    ...That I couldn't combine them...
    Empire growing,
    Pleasures flowing,
    Fortune smiles and so should you.


    • #3
      you gotta give that Parrot more lines

      Please please please write some more, and can i say what an absolute pleasure it is to have another piece of yours to delve into
      A proud member of the "Apolyton Story Writers Guild".There are many great stories at the Civ 3 stories forum, do yourself a favour and visit the forum. Lose yourself in one of many epic tales and be inspired to write yourself, as I was.


      • #4
        Quite intriguing...
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        • #5
          Originally posted by History Guy
          Yes, it's the product of the most insanely drunken bet ever concerning CivIII and Doctor Who...

          ...That I couldn't combine them...
          well more bets then
          Gurka 17, People of the Valley
          I am of the Horde.