Doctor Who_ To The Slaughter Part 12

Trix frowned. 'FILOC-P?'

'Falsh Industries Luxury Orbiting '

'Conference Podule,' she concluded. 'Bit risky, isn't it? If Falsh is the one who set this whole '

'You think he's likely to show up at a half-finished podule?' Torvin raised an eyebrow, and a curious smile sneaked on to his face. At that moment, Trix could see that the heavy lines etched into his forehead and around his eyes had been shaped by a life spent laughing more than worrying. 'Besides, I have friends. I can reach them from there. They'll take care of me.'

66.She watched him go. 'Lucky sod.'

'Got you,' said the Doctor triumphantly a few minutes later. 'That fragment's going Joveward, Torvin, just as you. . . ' He turned and looked around, baffled.

'Where did he go?'

'He's gone,' said Trix.

'A most unhelpful man,' said the Doctor vaguely.

'I almost went with him! He's got the right idea getting out while he can.'

'We need more on Falsh if we're going to blackmail our way back to Fitz and the TARDIS,' he reminded her. 'I'll just load this evidence on to a chip and we'll be on our '

Without warning, an earthquake bucked through the complex. About a billion-point-one on the Richter scale as far as Trix was concerned. She was pitched forwards on to her face, her bones jarring with the force of the tremor.

'What was that?' she yelled.

The Doctor picked himself up from the floor, and helped her to her feet. 'I'm not sure. A lump of rock like this can't be geologically active, so '

The whole room seemed to roar as a further tremor knocked them to the floor. Trix landed on her back this time, winded. A huge, black, jagged split opened up in the ceiling, a cartoon monster's smile spitting dust down at her face.

'We're under attack,' she realised. 'The alien?'

'Look,' said the Doctor, pointing through the observation deck.

Resolving themselves from the endless points of light came a couple of silver spheres. But these weren't just single-minded sentinels like the ones minding Falsh's s.p.a.ce station. They were sponsored sponsored sentinels NewSystem Deconstruction was stencilled in ever-changing colours around their circ.u.mference. sentinels NewSystem Deconstruction was stencilled in ever-changing colours around their circ.u.mference.

'Looks like we're due for demolition.' Again, the Doctor clambered up from the ground. 'NewSystem are Blazar's successors, they're a Falsh subsidiary.'

'So he's finishing what he started?' Trix got up and staggered over to the doorway. 'That alien guy reported back, and now Falsh is bringing in the big guns?'

'Not guns.' The Doctor was up and hopping about like he needed the toilet, his injured leg either forgotten or healed by now. 'Heat spikes. They're softening us up ready for vaporisation!'

67.

Chapter Nine.

The Rapier Rapier was a h.e.l.l of a lot bigger than Fitz had imagined; a labyrinth of s.p.a.cious corridors and grand, echoing halls, really it was more like a deserted palace than a s.p.a.ceship. He wondered how many people were aboard. He'd not met anyone else yet, and nor did he want to. How long before Sook found he'd wandered off? How long before the alarms sounded, and he was exposed as an imposter? was a h.e.l.l of a lot bigger than Fitz had imagined; a labyrinth of s.p.a.cious corridors and grand, echoing halls, really it was more like a deserted palace than a s.p.a.ceship. He wondered how many people were aboard. He'd not met anyone else yet, and nor did he want to. How long before Sook found he'd wandered off? How long before the alarms sounded, and he was exposed as an imposter?

If he could just find a stairwell. . . The cargo hold was bound to be on the ground floor, wasn't it? But there were no stairs to be found maybe they'd been abolished this far in the future. Using his head for a change, Fitz deduced from this that one of the endless 'thinks.p.a.ce' rooms he kept pa.s.sing must actually be a lift only the b.u.t.tons were doubtless so minimalist he'd overlooked them.

He hit paydirt in the end. What he'd thought was a lightswitch turned out to be a switch from which you dialled your floor, and luckily for him, it wasn't coded. So he rode the room to the bottom floor, ready to work his way right up to the top if he had to.

Of course, what he'd do once he actually found the TARDIS was a moot point. He could get inside but then what? He couldn't actually work work the thing. With the fluid links out of action she couldn't even work herself. the thing. With the fluid links out of action she couldn't even work herself.

But the TARDIS was more than just a time-and-s.p.a.ce machine. She liked him, Fitz knew that. Long ago, she had done what all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't do for Humpty Dumpty put him back together again when one especially nasty misadventure had left him a different person.

There was a bond between them. Maybe the TARDIS would help him out.

Of course, that could be entirely wishful thinking on his part.

On the ground floor he found a room whose walls glowed with Halcytone. He was close; this was where his wandering odyssey had begun. He recognised the pa.s.sageway leading to the large double doors, smirked in triumph. . .

And found them locked.

He swore.

Then a chime sounded behind him and a voice barked out of hidden speakers. It was Halcyon.

'Sook! Your wristpad is not responding. Come to the nearest comets point, 69 please.' He sounded agitated. Fitz wondered if his visions had brought on a seizure in the old boy. 'Come at once.'

Fitz was still recovering his scattered wits when the cargo doors swished open with a speed that belied their width and size. He winced and pressed himself flat against the wall as Sook hurried out, blinking rapidly and looking extremely nervous. She was so wrapped up in her worries she didn't notice him at all. Fitz stepped smartly into the darkened hold. Why hadn't she had the lights on?

There was a noise from somewhere up ahead. A scuff, maybe a foot catching on something.

You're imagining it, he told himself. he told himself.

He glanced around for a lightswitch, but of course there was nothing obvious. Composing himself, he pressed on in search of the dear old blue box.

There she was!

He hurried towards her, chuckling giddily. The key slipped into the lock and turned smoothly. As the door opened he pushed in and felt the usual heady dizziness as he crossed from wooden police box to impossible interior.

Everything was still and quiet, and the lights seemed a little dimmer than usual. There was a sense of quiet antic.i.p.ation in the air.

'Trix!' he bellowed.

The lights rose just a little, but there was no other response.

'n.o.body here,' Fitz murmured. He'd known it, really, all along. But it hurt as it hit home.

Silly as it sounded, the TARDIS seemed sad too. The console hum was a quiet keening. The steady flash of its lights and indicators marked slow, lonely time. The scanner hung dark-faced from its improbable mounting somewhere in the ceiling.

The ship must know that she'd not only lost the power of flight, she had lost her captain.

'We'll get him back,' Fitz declared, a little self-consciously. 'And we'll get you going again. You'll see.'

Again, no reply. Scratching his head, he turned and walked back out into the darkness of the hold.

His one pathetic hope remaining was that the scuffing sound he'd heard wasn't, in fact, a googly-eyed monster waiting to eat him, but Trix.

Yeah, perhaps Trix had finally finished shaving her legs and gone outside but she'd had to hide from Sook when Sook had come in, and then when Fitz Fitz had come in she'd thought it was maybe Sook coming back and had come in she'd thought it was maybe Sook coming back and And something tripped him up.

He hit the deck hard, and cried out. Before he could move, someone sat on him. A large someone, by the feel of the thighs wobbling against his lower 70 back. And before he could protest, he felt something dig into the back of his neck. Something like a gun barrel.

'Don't move,' hissed a woman's voice in his ear.

'Who wants to move?' gasped Fitz. 'This is fun.'

Then a man's voice, reedy and grave, started up somewhere close by. 'Who are you?'

'Fitz Kreiner, art student,' he croaked. 'I was just taking a const.i.tutional in search of my muse, when '

'Kreiner! It's him!' hissed the female on top of him.

'Falsh's spy,' said the man.

Fitz gulped. 'What about Falsh's pie?'

The woman leaned forwards and spoke menacingly in his ear. 'Make out you were one of us, would you?'

'I'm sorry.' Fitz gasped. 'Are you from the student union?'

'Don't play clever with us.' She paused, sounded a bit lost. 'What are we going to do with him, Gaws?'

'You're going to break my spine if you don't get off me,' whimpered Fitz. 'No offence, love.' He was lying on something too, that wasn't helping; something digging in painfully to his ribs.

The man paused. 'Get off him, Mildrid.'

The pressure on his back eased, as did the digging in his ribs. 'Thank you,'

said Fitz weakly. 'May I get up, now?'

'No,' the man instructed. 'And no more clowning. What are you doing down here? Gathering evidence for your paymasters?'

'That's right,' said Fitz, looking up at the dim blue monolith so tantalisingly out of reach. 'I've got loads of evidence. Tons, in that blue box. I could show you!'

'He thinks we're simpletons, Gaws,' hissed Mildrid.

'How could I think that?'

'We need to think this through properly.' said Gaws. 'You could be of great value to us, Kreiner. Get up. But no tricks.'

No, no Trix, Fitz thought. That was the problem. He pushed himself up on to his knees and panted for breath. He could see something of his captors now in the weak light; Mildrid was large and voluptuous, every yard a woman, with short dark hair. Her eyes were large and soulful you'd expect her to be reading Country Life Country Life in tweeds in the saloon bar, not throwing herself on unsuspecting fugitives. The man, Gaws, looked like a strategically shaved ferret, with the weakest chin Fitz had ever seen. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him down; probably why he operated with the divinely chunky Mildrid, who would make a dependable windbreak. in tweeds in the saloon bar, not throwing herself on unsuspecting fugitives. The man, Gaws, looked like a strategically shaved ferret, with the weakest chin Fitz had ever seen. He looked like a stiff breeze would knock him down; probably why he operated with the divinely chunky Mildrid, who would make a dependable windbreak.

71.'Come on, on your feet,' she ordered. She was wielding some kind of trun-cheon, and actually looked dead s.e.xy with it. 'Move!'

'All right, all right,' Fitz grumbled.

As he got up, he rubbed his bruised ribs and suddenly realised he'd been lying on the useless gun he'd taken off Falsh's guard back on the station.

Craftily, his fingers crept into his inside pocket. . .

He yanked out the weapon. 'n.o.body move!' he cried in a broad Bronx accent. 'It seems the tables have turned!'

But then Mildred lashed out with her leg. She kicked the gun from his hand!

It was a cool move, and left Fitz staring stupidly after the gun as it sailed off into the gloom.

'Grab him, Mildrid!' Gaws shouted.

Fitz turned on his heel and ran off. If they chased after him he could maybe lose them and double back round to the TARDIS. . .

No worries on the first part of the plan. He could hear a thunder of footsteps behind him, most of them doubtless Mildrid's. As for doubling back round perhaps he could make them think he'd left the bay altogether. . .

But even as he approached the exit, the heavy, steel doors started to slide open. He skidded to a halt only to find Sook standing in the doorway.

'What are you you doing here?' she demanded, wide-eyed, baffled and cross. doing here?' she demanded, wide-eyed, baffled and cross.

'Never mind me,' he gasped, 'there are some proper loonies in there! I don't know if they came on board at Miranda, or. . . '

Sook pulled a gun from her own pocket and aimed it at his head.

Fitz grimaced. 'You know them then. Friends of yours?'

'Not exactly.' She advanced on him, the gun unwavering. 'The voice of conscience, shall we say?'

'If you like,' Fitz replied coldly, 'since you've got the gun.'

'And you, Kreiner, have either got the luck of the devil, or the talent of a prodigy, or. . . ' She shook her head. 'I don't know. I really don't.'

'Perhaps,' said Mildrid behind him in a low, sultry voice, 'we should all sit down and have a little chat.'

'Falsh can't blow us to kingdom come!' said Trix petulantly, trying to keep up with the Doctor as he dashed for the exit, heading back the way they'd come.

'The main action wasn't meant to kick off until Halcyon's vidcast!'

'They'll pa.s.s it off as another test detonation,' said the Doctor. 'NewSystem's first. After all, plenty more rocks where Thebe came from.' Another warning rumble started up and he scowled. 'We haven't got long. We must get back to Falsh's ship before it's too late!'

'Speaking of which,' she panted as they tore through the trembling corridors, 'I thought you said Falsh's lot wouldn't want to damage it!'

72.'If NewSystem's supervisors are as diligent as Torvin, they probably haven't noticed any any of the ships out there. Or they'd be taking them off for salvage.' of the ships out there. Or they'd be taking them off for salvage.'

Another explosion, more distant this time, rumbled up from deep down inside the planetoid, tripping them as they ran. Trix was up first, helping the Doctor to his feet, then off they flew again.