Doctor Who_ To The Slaughter Part 17

Ping!

It was his very own room on board Halcyon's ship.

After Gaws and Mildrid had pushed off to plan whatever stunts they were up to, Sook explained that Halcyon wished to see him first thing in the morning.

'Then he's a brave man,' said Fitz, 'as anyone who's ever woken up next to me will testify.'

She gave him a narrow look. 'How did did you swing it with PadPad? You been fitted with an implant or something?' you swing it with PadPad? You been fitted with an implant or something?'

'Something,' he agreed. 'You can stay and try to beat the truth out of me if you like.'

She snorted. 'What do I care? I have enough to do.' So started a major league moan: the art treasures needed distribution around the galleries, though she'd at least agreed to leave the TARDIS where it was. The OPs were useless amateurs, coming aboard like that. She couldn't afford for Halcyon to get suspicious now if she was sacked, she'd never be able to n.o.bble him on their behalf, would she?

He'd slept well after that little lullaby.

The door slid suddenly open. Fitz started from his reverie.

'Rise and shine,' said Sook, now wearing a quite becoming blue catsuit.

'Don't you ever knock?'

'I doubted you'd know how to open the door yourself.'

She had a point. 'Have you brought me breakfast?'

'No. But I've burned your old clothes.'

'You did what what?' He jumped out of bed, then realised he was naked and dived back for cover.

Sook appeared unmoved. 'Naturally I kept your belongings. But if you're to appear in public among Halcyon's retinue and given the bee you've placed in his bonnet, that's pretty much inevitable you'll have to look the part.'

'It's looking a a part that I'm worried about,' Fitz grumbled, remembering Roddle's skimpy attire. 'Did you even dump my Cuban heels?' part that I'm worried about,' Fitz grumbled, remembering Roddle's skimpy attire. 'Did you even dump my Cuban heels?'

96.'There's retro, Kreiner, and there's retro.'

She placed some black coveralls and some funky black and white s.p.a.ce shoes on his bed. She turned her back while he changed, and he found himself quite happy with the dark and austere look.

'You'd better shave too,' Sook added. She held out her hand.

Fitz scratched indignantly at his five days' growth. 'We don't have to shake on it! If you can get me a razor, I'll get on with it.'

She stared at him. 'Huh?'

Now Fitz came to look, he saw what looked like iron filings in her hand.

'You don't know what they are, do you?'

'Why all the fuss? I look good with a beard!'

'And you don't know about Halcytone, or PadPad. . . ' With a slightly wicked smile, she said, 'I'll bet you don't even know where Callisto is.'

'I know it's got a count called Monte,' Fitz bl.u.s.tered.

'It's a moon, Kreiner. Orbiting Jupiter.'

'I've been to Jupiter before! This big s.p.a.ce station called Farside, you must have heard of it?'

'Yeah, that's a weird little footnote in the local history. It was lost, like, three-hundred years ago!' Sook walked towards him, eyes piercing. 'Kreiner, who are are you? Where do you come from?' you? Where do you come from?'

Fitz blushed lightly. 'We could be here all day answering that one.'

She cupped his cheeks with both hands. He smiled. His man-of-mystery charm had done it again 'Aagh!' he cried, as Sook s.n.a.t.c.hed her hands away. There were no iron filings in her hands now, they were snagged in his stubble. And they were chewing chewing it. it.

'Get them off,' he yelled, scrabbling at his face. 'Get them off, they're eating my face!'

'They're shaving you, you idiot. Right down to the skin, closest shave you can get. Halcyon uses them five times a day.' She paused. 'So it's not an act, then? You're really that ignorant?'

'I don't hold with these newfangled gadgets,' said Fitz demurely.

'They're, like, a hundred years old.'

The tickling sensation had stopped. He brushed his cheek, and dead filaments fell away. His skin felt unbelievably smooth and moisturised.

'Look, Sook. I think you only pick on me so we don't dwell on you you.'

She seemed amused. 'Oh, yes?'

'Yeah. You're the one who thinks rearranging the furniture makes a difference to anything beyond the hoovering. Isn't life a bit short to be doing sums every time you want to move a vase?'

She shrugged. 'It's an eight-thousand-year-old philosophy.'

97.'I say it sounds like an omelette.'

'My parents weren't Old Preservers, but they impressed the importance of the past upon me from the start.' Sook didn't bother hiding her bitterness.

'And of course, no learning cradles for me, no fast tracking. I was opted out of all of that. Instead, my mother taught me. Everything she knew.'

Fitz smiled. 'And made a star out of you, right?'

'Ha!' Sook narrowed her eyes. 'She made me a freak. She made me useless.

Shaped so much by the past there was nothing of the present I could fit into.'

'She didn't teach you Feng Doo-dah, then?'

'Nope. She went senile and had a termination order placed on her when I was thirteen.'

'Um,' said Fitz. This was one can of worms he'd wished he'd left unopened.

'Dad had to get her away. Couldn't risk taking me with him so I ended up in a cla.s.sical hostel a home for rejects like me.' She shrugged. 'That's where I started learning about Feng Shui. The teachings, the equations, all of it. And I just. . . I just got it, you know? However dumb it seems, it made sense to me.

I started teaching at what we jokingly called an academy out on the far edge of the Pacific Rim, light years from anywhere, you know. But when Halcyon turned up. . . '

'You were on the map.'

'When he first came to me, he said my teachings offered him a window in on a new beauty. A precise, orderly mathematical perfection.' Sook shrugged.

'It's quite intoxicating to mean something, Kreiner,' she said softly. 'Check?'

Fitz nodded. 'I think so.'

'Even when you can't help feeling it's all going to go sour. . . ' She looked downcast. 'He made me an offer I couldn't resist, and I agreed to be his "a.s.sistant". It's been six years. . . '

'So why stop now on the say-so of some old squares like Gaws and Mildrid?'

Sook looked oddly furtive. 'I guess it's Falsh.'

Fitz blinked. 'Falsh?'

'He's ruined the person Halcyon could have been.' She started pulling at her fingers distractedly. 'It was so exciting when everything started gathering momentum. A new school of study, presidential endors.e.m.e.nts. . . '

'Money.'

'Lots and lots of money,' Sook agreed.

'Nothing wrong with that,' smiled Fitz.

'Are you crazy? It's wonderful!' She grinned back at him. 'I thought success would make everything easier. But you have to top yourself each time, make each new achievement bigger, better. . . Cra.s.ser.'

Fitz shrugged. 'So, it's less about the art and more about the money. That's true of any success story, isn't it?'

98.'But there are eight-thousand-year-old principles at stake here,' she said.

'Halcyon pretends, he cheats, but he's twisting the equations around to suit himself and Falsh's schedule. It doesn't work that way. And I'm just as bad.

I've been going along with it.'

'Well, why don't you just persuade him to bust up with Falsh?'

'That's what Gaws and Mildrid's great stunt tonight is supposed to achieve with appropriate stirring from me. But it's going to be painful, and it's going to be messy. And Halcyon, he can't see ' She clammed up. When she looked at Fitz, her green eyes were more vivid than he remembered. 'Oh, ignore me, Kreiner. I'm just tired. Tired of this whole business. I want it over.'

'I wish there was something I could do,' said Fitz, and he meant it.

'You'd better go and see him, now. I'll take you.'

Here we go then, thought Fitz. No matter how clean-shaven, suited and booted he might be, he still didn't feel ready for his close-up. thought Fitz. No matter how clean-shaven, suited and booted he might be, he still didn't feel ready for his close-up.

99.

Chapter Thirteen.

Trix was propped up in Falsh's bed again, enjoying the feel of his silken sheets against her bare skin. Her appropriated kitchen uniform, not flattering at the best of times, was now so sodden and smelly with sweat that it could probably walk off without her, like the autosuit. She would just have to see what she could make of Falsh's...o...b..ard wardrobe. Even adrift in outer s.p.a.ce, she had standards.

Her headache was still killing her. On the bed beside her was the contents of Klimt's pockets: a pencil, a sci-fi pager thingie that she couldn't make work, and a slim metal case filled with white pills. She'd hoped they were Nurofen or something but the Doctor had taken one look at the composition formula written inside the case and tipped them away.

'Never take other people's medicines,' he said gravely.

'Unless they're okayed by the Doctor.' He'd filled the case with identical little white tablets from the Polar Lights Polar Lights' pristine first-aid box and told her to take two at four-hour intervals.

She hoped the first dose would kick in soon. In the meantime she'd grab forty winks, and hope she didn't dream of giant chiggocks.

Like her, the ship was limping along on the last of its power. They were en route for the only safe haven they knew of: the Falsh podule under construction that Torvin had mentioned.

If the Doctor could only find it.

Fitz stood in Halcyon's office for inspection. It was probably the most opulent office he'd ever seen. In fact, 'office' didn't begin to do it justice. There wasn't even a desk.

There was was an extremely impressive fountain at one end, gushing down with force over slick slates. The water spilled out into a great hemispherical pool, its boundaries marked by jagged rock. The walls and ceiling were a deep, soothing blue, while the floor was wooden; yes, genuine old floorboards by the look of it. A single egg-shaped chair beside an improbably tall and narrow occasional table both carved from ivory or something like it were the only other fixtures. an extremely impressive fountain at one end, gushing down with force over slick slates. The water spilled out into a great hemispherical pool, its boundaries marked by jagged rock. The walls and ceiling were a deep, soothing blue, while the floor was wooden; yes, genuine old floorboards by the look of it. A single egg-shaped chair beside an improbably tall and narrow occasional table both carved from ivory or something like it were the only other fixtures.

Halcyon rose from the chair. What a state. He was still wearing his shades; small wonder with the glare of his peac.o.c.k-blue sari with gold hemming to 101 contend with. Completing the ensemble was a black buccaneer's sash, worn diagonally from shoulder to hip, and a white trilby hat perched atop his glittering bonce.

Fitz stood nervously as the great man stepped towards him.

'Kreiner. You stunned me last night.'

'I'm sorry, sir.'

'I mean, you moved me. The images. . . Such intensity in my mind. Such clarity.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Such complexity. . .

such blissful precision. . . '

He smiled.

His teeth were tiny but perfect, like baby teeth. 'Such intimate understanding of the grotesque.'

Fitz smiled weakly.

'You have known horror in your life, Kreiner. I scent the cold slash of its blade across your mind, bleeding intellect with raw instinct. You and I, Kreiner, we have confronted the darkness and stepped back from the abyss.