Doctor Who_ The Fall Of Yquatine Part 9

'Bad day?'

Fitz ignored him. It had been a spectacularly bad day. He'd been to Yendip s.p.a.ceport, intending to stow away on the first ship off planet, only to find the place tight as a tin of beans, security and surveillance everywhere. Something to do with strict immigration controls, he wouldn't wonder. On a planet where so many alien species mixed and mingled the authorities had to be careful. And so Fitz had resigned himself to the fact that he was stuck on Yquatine with no money and nowhere to stay.

His mind returned to the present. Il-Eruk was still hovering nearby. 'But you had good good time last night?' time last night?'

Fitz nodded.

Il-Eruk leaned on the bar. 'I can tell when man is really having good time. Eyes see distant place, man is generous with money. Good for business!'

'Well that was the last of my money, mate,' mumbled Fitz.

Il-Eruk blinked his bright yellow eyes. 'That is my point. You not having good time last night. You getting drunk to mask bad bad time. Not wise. time. Not wise.

'Tell me about it.'

Il-Eruk straightened up and let out a curious whistle. 'I am telling you about it.'

Fitz waved a hand. ''S a figure of speech.'

'I see many alcoholics in here. They start like you, masking bad time with drink. Soon, life is is drink.' He spread his arms wide and licked his beak. 'But what can I do? I run bar, I sell drink, I not force people to drink.' drink.' He spread his arms wide and licked his beak. 'But what can I do? I run bar, I sell drink, I not force people to drink.'

Fitz grinned. A barkeeper with a conscience. 'Yeah, I don't want to go down that road,' he said. Then an idea struggled into his befuddled mind. 'You're right: I was getting drunk deliberately last night; I am am having a really bad time.' Time for another lie. He put on his most wretched voice he didn't have to try too hard. 'My woman's left me, I've got no money and I wanna get home to see my folks. I don't suppose you've got any jobs going? Or know of anyone who's got any jobs going?' having a really bad time.' Time for another lie. He put on his most wretched voice he didn't have to try too hard. 'My woman's left me, I've got no money and I wanna get home to see my folks. I don't suppose you've got any jobs going? Or know of anyone who's got any jobs going?'

Il-Eruk picked up a gla.s.s and began polishing it. His long, beaklike jaw opened in a yawn, showing rows of tiny teeth. 'You lucky. My main bar guy Luke just done runner. Woman trouble again!'

Fitz tossed his head. 'Pah! Can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em, eh?' It seemed at once bizarre and perfectly natural to be swapping s.e.xist banter with a giant bird-faced lizard.

Il-Eruk leaned towards him. 'You got experience?'

A few weeks behind the bar of the Mother Black Cap in Camden Town in the sixties had given Fitz all the bar experience he would ever need. 'Oh yes,' said Fitz. 'I've worked behind bars on countless worlds.'

Il-Eruk's eyes narrowed. 'You got CV?'

Fitz put on his most plaintive voice. 'Yeah, man, but it's, erm, on my computer, and my woman took that along with the rest of my stuff!'

Il-Eruk seemed to consider. 'OK. You join my team. Behind bar. yes? You no meaty enough for bouncer. Trial period, mind.'

Great, thought Fitz a piece of luck at last. 'And, uh, could I stay here as well?'

Il-Eruk considered. 'You sleep in Luke's old room, have to clean out first. Luke lazy in that area.'

'Great. Thanks.' Fitz extended a hand and Il-Eruk took it. 'It's a deal. My name's Fitz Kreiner.'

'Zaqisk Il-Eruk Iskel'patrut.'

It sounded more like a choking fit than a name but Fitz smiled politely. He sank back on to the bar stool, allowing himself to relax. The prospect of the days ahead seemed like a holiday. Work in the tavern, then get the h.e.l.l off Yquatine before the invasion, find the Doctor and save the universe again.

Il-Eruk was still hovering. 'Something you said last night, bothering me.'

Fitz swallowed the last of the pasty and brushed flaky crumbs from his jeans. He was wondering how the alien would respond if he asked for an advance. 'Yeah?'

Il-Eruk leaned across the bar, his beaked face inches from Fitz's own. His breath stank like gone-off tuna. 'You said we all doomed. You said Yquatine is gonna be... destroyed.'

b.u.g.g.e.r. The drink must have loosened his tongue just that little bit too much. 'Yeah. well,' he bluffed. 'well we are, aren't we? It is, isn't it?' He whirled his arms above his head, playing the s.p.a.ced-out hippy. 'I mean, eventually, all the planets in the System will crash into the sun. I'm talking millions of years, man! Must have been something in the drink, making me see the cosmic scale of things.'

Il-Eruk stood back from Fitz, his beak open, rocking on his heels.

d.a.m.n! thought Fitz. That little performance has probably cost me my job. Well at least the future's safe.

Without taking his eyes from Fitz, Il-Eruk poured a short measure of whisky for them both. 'This on the house.'

Fitz smiled with relief: Thanks.'

They sipped in silence for a while, Fitz mentally berating himself for his drunken lapse and promising himself it would never happen again.

Il-Eruk put down his empty gla.s.s and emitted a hissing, cackling wheeze. 'Fit, I was wrong about you. You not just got woman trouble.' He tapped the side of his narrow skull with a clawed finger: You got deep, deep mind problems.'

Chapter Nine.

'Take me back'

The Doctor stood in the observation gallery, the metal rail cool on his hands as he leaned and watched the Kukutsi ship glide smoothly into the s.p.a.cedock. It was a sleek horseshoe of smooth chitin, dotted here and there with chocolate-brown b.u.mps. It was beautiful, and probably alive in some sense, the Doctor guessed, linked to the insect minds of its pilots.

As soon as the s.p.a.ce doors closed and the atmosphere had normalised, suited figures ran towards the ship. A hatch swung open in its side, like a beetle's carapace.

The Doctor gripped the rail harder. He wanted to be down there, where the action was, but the Senate had confined him to the civilian parts of the station, pending an investigation into who exactly he was. He didn't blame them: an entire planet had been destroyed, they were bound to be suspicious of strangers, however nice and helpful they were. Same old story. So he'd decided to play along with them, take a back seat for a while, lie low until he discovered the truth.

Several Kukutsi scuttled from the skip, their feelers waving in agitation. Human soldiers boarded the ship, followed by two medical orderlies in grey and yellow suits. Six guards took up flanking positions on either side of the hatch. A door opened in the far side of the hangar. Senator Krukon appeared and ran over to the ship.

Things were happening. The Doctor stepped away from the railing.

An armed trooper barred his way. 'And where do you think you're going?'

The Doctor could see the boredom in her eyes, the resentment of being tasked with guarding him. He gritted his teeth. 'Nowhere.'

His guard smiled. 'Thought so.' Her rifle hung loosely from a shoulder strap. No doubt in less than a second it could be brought to bear on him. She was a stout young woman with short-cropped brown hair and a pale, freckled face. She wore a sleek grey uniform with black piping and insignia, big boots and black gloves, and she carried a slim, silver-barrelled rifle. She was quite piggishly unfriendly all he'd gleaned from her was her name and rank: Trooper Bella Otterley, Minerva s.p.a.ce Alliance.

The Doctor smiled back at her. Maybe she'd respond. People often remarked upon how good-looking he was, though he had no idea how it worked. 'What's on that ship?'

Trooper Otterley didn't take her eyes from the activity below. 'They picked up a damaged fighter. It was going to crash into the sun.'

The Doctor was intent once more on the scene below. Senator Krukon was standing, hands on ma.s.sive hips, watching the entrance to the ship. The Doctor was beginning to lose his patience. Damaged fighters crashing into suns this had all the hallmarks of a Fitz Kreiner misdemeanour. He glanced over his shoulder at Trooper Otterley's unsmiling face. 'Any survivors?'

Her voice hardened. 'I'm afraid that's cla.s.sified.'

'Yes, I understand, you're only doing your job.' He turned back towards the observation window, muttering. 'I only wish you'd let me do mine.'

His eyes narrowed. One of the orderlies was backing out of the Kukutsi ship, easing a gurney down the ramp. The Doctor couldn't see its occupant, because the guards blocked his view. The other orderly emerged, guiding the trolley across the hangar. The first orderly stopped and spoke to Senator Krukon. Then the whole procession set off towards the hangar exit.

Then the Doctor saw who was on the gurney. Not Fitz, or Compa.s.sion. A male human in a s.p.a.cesuit, with dark hair and aristocratic features.

The Doctor smiled at Trooper Otterley. 'Er, I think I've just gained access to some cla.s.sified information.'

She actually smiled back, obviously pleased that her President was safe. 'It will soon be common knowledge anyway.'

The Doctor watched the Kukutsi scurrying across the carapace of their ship. He frowned. 'Wonder what he was doing zooming towards the sun.'

Senator Zendaak strode through the disgusting bright white corridors of cursed Aloysius Station, his skin tingling as though tiny parasites were burrowing beneath the scales. He hated this place and what it represented. He had spent many nights on New Anthaur, on the stone ramparts of the Imperial Citadel, staring up at the bright star that he knew was Aloysius Station. That shining point represented compromise, defeat, acceptance. It had goaded him through his career, from his initiation into the Inner Circle to his rise to role of senator, representative of his species on the Minerva Senate. Goaded him through the years of planning this campaign. It had shone, blind and unknowing, as the Anthaurk battle plans had developed, as the mighty Anthaurk Battle Fleet had grown and grown. Eventually, after a hundred years of cloying, insufferable peace, the Anthaurk had been ready to a.s.sert themselves once more upon the galaxy, their fleet ma.s.sing on the border.

The black ships rained down their scourge upon the planet of his enemies.

Zendaak could still see the disc of Yquatine in his mind's eye, clouded with the strange blackness which almost seemed like a living thing. The other senators had been mortified all those millions of lives, lost, snuffed out as easily as a candle flame. That weakling Doctor's face had crumpled like an eggsh.e.l.l with grief. Fools.

He reached his quarters, slipping gratefully into the dark, cool interior. It was a makeshift arrangement all artificial lighting removed, Anthaurk candles and incense placed on drape-covered furniture.

Zendaak sat before a desk which was covered with the cloaks of his fathers. A small globe rested on a pile of smooth pebbles in the middle of the desk. Zendaak pa.s.sed a hand over the top of the globe and an image flickered on to its surface. The face of an old, wizened Anthaurk, its skin dull brown, its eyes deep-set. It spoke, its voice wheezy and thin with age and impatience. 'Developments, Zendaak!'

Zendaak saluted. 'Grand Gynarch, the others do not accept our leadership.'

The Grand Gynarch considered. 'That was to be expected.'

'So what of our plans now?'

The Grand Gynarch leaned forward. The image of her face distorted, became convex. 'Start sending our ships down.'

Zendaak frowned. 'Is that wise, O Gynarch?'

The ancient Anthaurk bridled. 'You dare question my orders!'

Zendaak immediately realised his mistake. 'No, Gynarch, I was just speculating '

'This is not a time for speculation. It is a time for action.'

Zendaak could sense one of his leader's tirades coming on. He sat back and a.s.sumed his most reverential expression.

She leaned back, the image of her face returning to normal. 'A hundred years, we have waited. I was a hatchling when the humans of Yquatine beat us down. They are now no more. It seems that the wait has been worthwhile.' The Grand Gynarch waved at Zendaak. 'Now away and do my bidding.'

Zendaak saluted again. 'Yes, Grand Gynarch!'

The face vanished from the sphere.

Zendaak stared at the rows of devotional candles on the altar beyond. Could the Grand Gynarch be right? After two humiliating defeats first the Daleks, then the cursed Yquatine humans could the Anthaurk be returning at last to their rightful place as conquerors?

Take me back to the time before it happened A piano picked out a lonely, descending series of notes, like a funeral march, or a tune produced falteringly by a sentimental drunk. Slow. Deliberate. Endless. Hopeless. Going round and round and never back. Because you couldn't go back, only forward.

Take her back to the place before it happened The notes became points of light, like stars. Were they stars? Or were they flakes of skin on black silk sheets? There were hundreds of them, thousands, acc.u.mulating, spreading, more and more and more. Because you couldn't reverse entropy, only accelerate the process.

Take us back to the time and place before it happened The white flakes now outnumbered the black. There were only a few points of black left. That was good, wasn't it? Because the black stuff was evil as if it could be that simple! The black stuff was what had snuffed out 'Take me back!'

He sat up in the bed, eyes open, seeing nothing but bright white light. It hurt his eyes. He squinted.

In the bed bed?

Hands on his arms, pushing him gently back down to the cool softness of the pillow.

The pillow pillow?

He could see properly now. There were figures around the bed, heads angled down towards him. His head felt soft, like the pillow. Floating.

A voice, a female human voice. 'Welcome back, Mr President.'

'Franseska?'

But Franseska was dead. There was no way she could have escaped. Her brother in the s.p.a.ce Alliance had probably survived her. President Vargeld groaned.

'Mr President?' The speaker was a tall, crop-headed female doctor with a serious face.

'I'm here,' he said. He tried to smile, look presidential.

'You're suffering from concussion, and slight radiation sickness. You'll be OK, but you need to rest.'

Then President Vargeld noticed the senators, standing in a ring around his bed. Fandel, Zendaak, Tibis, Krukon, Okotile, Juvingeld.

Zendaak.

President Vargeld lunged for the Anthaurk senator, a roar of rage scouring his throat. Hands tried to press him back to the bed, but his anger made him strong. He actually managed to slip his hands around Zendaak's throat before they sedated him.

The Doctor was bored and impatient and he was beginning to lose his temper with Trooper Bela Otterley.

More ships had docked, and he'd watched as they'd disgorged their occupants, refugees from Yquatine. Now a slablike Adamantean ship and a rather primitive-looking rust-coloured Rorclaavix cruiser sat alongside the Kukutsi vessel.

The Doctor rather liked s.p.a.ceships. He used to keep a notebook detailing all the different types and cla.s.ses he'd seen, but that had gone west along with his old TARDIS. And now wasn't the time for s.p.a.ceship-spotting.

Trooper Otterley was holding forth against the Anthaurk. 'We should have kicked the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds out of the system after the last war. Shifty-eyed lizard sc.u.m. Do you know they eat their own babies?'

The Doctor had had enough of such unimaginative, racist bilge. He was profoundly repelled by this glimpse into a closed, nasty, prejudiced mind. Still, it wasn't all her fault: she was probably trained to hate the Anthaurk. Anyway, it was about time he was rid of her. He had to get himself involved with things.