Kiki spoke, “Mr Ferdy may be trustworthy, but right now I am your only chance of getting into the fortress of La Houghue Bie. I would advise against approaching the Résistance Crapaud with Les Chats in tow. They will shoot first and ask questions… Actually they’ll just shoot. Best explain yourself to the Lesbian Nuns. Leave your dubious allies here and follow me.” Kiki did not return to the sally port, she took them to the main gate and began to kick it hard whilst shouting, “hey, you lot!”
A pair of shaven heads peered down from the battlements and quickly vanished. More kicking and shouting. The sturdy axe proof oak door swung back just enough for the mother superior to step out, one finger curled resolutely round the trigger of her AK-47.
“Oh, it’s you. Stop kicking my door, you’ll scratch the paint.” The venerable nun eyed the monk, dodo and one-eyed aristocrat standing behind Kiki, “And what have we here, a travelling circus? Come inside quickly. Monsieur vendeur de oignon laissez votre vélo à la salle des gardes.” She turned back to Kiki, “I believe an explanation would be in order, my young kitten. Refectory, all of you. Now.”
Augusta King had been talking for some time when Kiki started to fidget.
“Kitty, Red, there’s too much chatter and not enough action in this chapter. We need to get back to the Resistance.”
The mother superior rose, begged Augusta’s pardon for the interruption and addressed the kittens.
“You are probably quite correct, young miss. Take some of my girls with you, they need an outlet for their wilder tendencies, and you will need a guide. Let them face peril.”
Obedient for once, the Kittens rounded up a contingent of enthusiastic volunteers, cleaned and greased their weapons; packed sandwiches, fresh knickers (with the exception of Kiki who despite the chafing of her combat chinos insisted on going commando) and a generous supply of ammunition. With a cheerful goodbye they set off into the night.
The mother superior resumed:
“Now Mrs King, perhaps if I ask questions we can obtain some clarity. Mr Desai here, who I perceive is neither French nor indeed an onion seller, tells me you immerged from our Neolithic passage earlier this evening.”
Augusta was not sure how much of her tale would be believed. She took a deep breath:
“Your chamber contains the concealed entrance to a trans dimensional portal into the Atlantean world tunnel system. Vast amounts of power and ingenuity are required to breach the veil between worlds except on a very limited number of auspicious occasions each year, like Halloween. The tunnels link to our home in Shambhala.”
The nun wrinkled her brow, but Ferdy recognised something in the description.
“I know about these portals. The boys and I discovered one in Derbyshire. Oh, you probably don’t know about Boz and Phoebles and Ginsbergbear and Slasher and me, but we do this sort of adventuring stuff all the time. We were sabotaging a secret underground flying saucer factory.”
His outburst did not reassure the mother superior. Yet she continued her interrogation.
“And you, young lady? Lets start with your history.”
“From the start?”
“Probably, if that’s not too tedious.”