Hamish X and the Cheese Pirates Read Free

against Mimi. She laughed when they used them on her. And somehow she managed to laugh defiantly rather than helplessly, which was the real point of the Ticklestick.
    Mimi had adopted little Parveen as her personal project. Viggo often toyed with the idea of asking the ODA to take her back, but he didn’t want the grey-suited agents to think he couldn’t handle himself. In two years she’d be carted off anyway to wherever the grey agents took the fourteen-year-olds, so he tried to be patient and endure her annoying behaviour.
    Right now, he didn’t have time to deal with her antics. Viggo sneered and waved his arm dismissively. “Back to work!” he shouted at the children.
    â€œBack to work!” the guards parroted.
    All the other children instantly turned to their tasks. He watched for a moment to make sure they were doing as they were told. Viggo smiled in satisfaction, but when he remembered the waiting visitors, his happiness evaporated. He spun on his heel and stalked off through the big double doors.
    Parveen slowly raised himself to the sitting position. He tucked away his little pad and stuck the pencil back behind his ear. Mimi hauled the little boy to his feet.
    â€œYou gotta keep yer mouth shut, bub!” she said. Her voice had a flat Texan drawl. “It’ll only get ya into trouble around here.”
    â€œI merely wished to improve production quotas,” Parveen answered, rubbing his sore shoulder.
    â€œWhatever!” the girl said. “Just keep yer head down.” Her green eyes narrowed as she glared at the doors Viggohad just exited. “He’ll get his one day and I hope I’ll be givin’ him some of it.”
    A guard stepped up. In his hand he held a long black club with a bulb on the end: a Ticklestick. He menaced Mimi and Parveen.
    â€œStop talking!” he shouted. “Back to work!”
    Mimi flexed her fists, glaring at the man. Finally, she turned back to her task of slicing up the cheese.
    VIGGO STRODE BETWEEN THE TABLES of the cafeteria, empty at this time of day, and came to a locked metal door. He pulled a card out of his pocket and held it up to a small pad on the door’s right side. A tiny light went from red to green. He pulled on the door and it opened easily, admitting him to the hall that led to the processing area.
    He collided with Mrs. Francis, who was hurrying from a side corridor. Hammerface, right at Viggo’s heels, then ran into Viggo.
    â€œWatch where you’re going!” Viggo snapped at the flustered woman.
    Mrs. Francis was just about as wide as she was tall. Everything about her was round. She had a round white face and round little sausage fingers. A scarf over her head failed to deter strands of grey hair from escaping at all angles. She lived in a tiny apartment attached to the kitchens. Of course, Viggo deducted room and board from her minuscule salary, but she didn’t complain, couldn’t complain for fear of losing her job. Jobs were scarce in Windcity these days. Never mind that the only other person who actually still lived there was that crazy Mr. Nieuwendyke who thought he was a cat, Viggo wouldn’t hesitate to hire him despite all his meowing and licking his hands. Ever since Mr. Francis had been attacked by that rabid owl twenty years before, Mrs. Francishad had to look out for herself. And since there wasn’t a lot to spend money on in Windcity she bought the children little treats, careful to hide her philanthropy from Viggo.
    â€œI-I-I’m sorry, Master Viggo. It’s hard to keep track of everything, what with one hundred children to feed and clean up after every day. I’m run off my feet.”
    Viggo towered over her, leaning in like a rickety scaffold. “Are you suggesting that you can’t handle the workload, Mrs. Francis?”
    Mrs. Francis threw up her hands in dismay, “Never, Master Viggo! I can manage!”
    â€œI hope so,” Viggo