God Emperor of Didcot by Toby Frost Page B

bloody-handed Annihilator. I am the Grand Hyrax, or, as my passport now says, God-King-Prophet-Emperor of Urn. You may have noticed that last night a revolution occurred, putting me in power over all of you. Now that order has been restored, let me put you at ease regarding the situation.
    ‘The British-sponsored democratic government is over and the governor beheaded. I am now supreme ruler, and you will worship me or die. This change took place for two reasons: one, to protect your liberty, and two, to halt the tide of godless heresy. I will address these points in order. First, though, let me thank the legions of the Republic of Eden, who have assisted me in this crusade.’
    There was a commotion on the screen, and suddenly Gilead’s big, blubbering face was thrust up against the camera. ‘The best fighting men inna world,’ he sobbed, and he took a swig from a bottle of weak beer. ‘Bless you, in your powered armour, and your. . . hats. Bless you. Kill ‘em all!’ he yelled suddenly, as he either fell or was pulled off-screen.
    The Hyrax smoothed his beard down and continued.
    ‘Firstly, liberty. This coup took place to protect your liberty. Some of you may find this strange, as you currently have less liberty, owing to my regime being a vicious theocratic hell. Well, to use a phrase of a friend of mine, try thinking outside the box. It is well known that to have a large degree of liberty, it is necessary to surrender a small amount to allow for police, security services and the like. We have taken this concept a step forward: since you have surrendered all your liberty, you now have even more liberty to do exactly what I say or die like the filthy heretic scum you are. Feel free to agree with me on this point.
    ‘Secondly, heresy. I don’t think I have to explain this.
    The only people unfamiliar with the concept are the very heretics who invented it. As a result, only a heretic would fail to welcome the drastic and brutal actions I intend to take against suspected heretics across the globe. As soon as the situation calms down sufficiently for me to inflame it with a crusade, you will be able to watch heretics being dealt with on your very TV sets. And believe me, we know how to deal with heretics. On with the show trials!
    ‘In the interim, the legal system has been simplified. You will now do exactly what I say. If in doubt, don’t do it, especially if it makes you happy. In particular, tea is now banned. This evil drink has turned the pious into degenerates, and inflamed women with foul desires. It has turned their thoughts to disobedience, their once pious bodies to licentiousness, filled them with wanton lusts, the sweat glistening on their great, big, heaving—
    ‘Anyway, tea production is to end from now on. Anyone drinking, growing or brewing tea is a heretic wallowing in the filth of their own depravity and will be subject to the full penalties of my new law! Heretics will be wiped aside! The nine-headed beast shall rise three times – three times – from the lake of fire, and crusade will envelop the galaxy! The unrighteous will burn in eighteen hells, and I – I alone – shall be crowned God-Prophet of the entirety of space, by me, the God-Prophet! You have been warned, you decadent, contemptible, hellbound, infidel scum!
    ‘Thank you for listening.
    ‘PS. This counts double for girls.’
    The Hyrax shuddered, glanced off-camera, and the picture faded to the Crusadist flag. W glanced around the room and switched off the machine.
    ‘Anyone want to say anything about that?’
    Carveth put her hand up. ‘Knob-end,’ she said.
    There was a murmur of agreement around the room.
    ‘So,’ Major Wainscott said, ‘these are the puppets up which the Ghastist hand is thrust.’
    ‘Bloody right,’ someone said next to him. Three men and a girl sat by Wainscott, all wearing big shorts, long socks and heavy boots, like a football team sprayed up for desert combat. They were slight and wiry, like