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Looking at him, I fight the urge to be sick. This pathetic little b.a.s.t.a.r.d is inside my head. He can hear what I'm saying. He can hear this this.
Well, Mr Mind-Reader, listen to this, you disgusting, effluent creep. I would rather die than kiss you. I can think of nothing more revolting than you, your face and your body. You sick, nasty pervert I think I'll kick you again.
Martin yelps and backs away before I can touch him. Of course you knew I was going to kick you, didn't you?
One more thing, Mr Mind-Reader. When I take on a role, I don't just 'play a part'. I don't put on a character I become become that character. I live, breathe and that character. I live, breathe and think think that character. that character.
You see, I've got so used to pretending to be someone else, it's become second nature.
I still can't come to terms with it. I can't believe it's happened again, so soon after all that Reo stuff. It's getting so that a girl can't call her mind her own.
How long have you been inside my head, Martin? Since Tate Modern? You must have done something to me during my sleep. Was that it, Martin? Was that when you did it?
I point the gun at him. He nods.
Will I kill you? You don't know, do you? But that's only because I I haven't decided yet. And then you'll know, the moment before I pull the trigger haven't decided yet. And then you'll know, the moment before I pull the trigger Is this how you get off? Eavesdropping on someone else's thoughts? Looking through their eyes Jesus, you've been letching over me in the shower, haven't you? You've been catching my reflection in mirrors. You've seen everything as I've seen it. You've experienced every sensation. Oh, you've been enjoying yourself.
That's why you always knew what I was going to say. That's why you always told me what I wanted to hear. And all the time, you had this hold over me.
You knew what I was thinking about you what I was thinking about the Doctor, about Fitz, about my past. You have stolen every secret. You have stolen me me.
And I've disgusted myself. The things I had to pretend to think, just to catch you off guard. What I had to pretend to feel.
'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' I scream at him, and I think it too.
I think you deserve to die, Martin. I can't think of anyone who has deserved to die more than you do right now.
216.
'No!' he pleads, scurrying backwards on his behind.
But I'm not a killer. I turn the pistol towards the control console and squeeze the trigger. It sputters into flame and bursts open, showering the carpet with glowing embers.
The Ceccec flickered. For an instant, Fitz could see through it to the piled-up shadows of the barricade. Then the creature broke up, lines streaking across its surface, rubbing it out of existence. There was a snap, a fizz, and the creature instantly shrank to the size of an overlapping red, green and blue dot. The white dot hung in the air, then faded.
Fitz looked outside. The Ceccecs flitted away one by one, dissolving into the vacuum of s.p.a.ce.
I shove open the front door. In front of me there's a short section of brightly lit corridor and, at the end of it, a deactivated tele-door.
I've left Martin curled up on the floor, whimpering. Can you still hear me, Martin? Of course you can. You would have seen yourself through my eyes.
You would have heard everything I was thinking about you. Hope you enjoyed it.
But I refuse to feel any fear, or shame, or anger. I've done nothing wrong.
I have nothing to hide. I refuse to give him that satisfaction. I refuse to give him the voyeuristic pleasure of seeing me upset.
He hasn't got to me. I'm stronger than this.
He was with me on Valuensis, on Utopia, in Lewisham, on the Astral Flower. . .
all this time he's been watching us through my eyes, listening through my ears.
I feel sick to my heart. I'm trembling all over, p.r.i.c.kling with heat. I'm sweating profusely and I'm swallowing and breathing to prevent myself from throwing up. I really, really want to throw up.
I dig out the sc.r.a.p of paper with co-ordinates on and tap them into the keypad by the tele-door. The gla.s.s clears to reveal a shadowy room, one wall taken up by a window. And there, on the other side of the door, are Fitz, the Doctor, Prubert and Charlton. I slide open the door.
Charlton had been startled when the tele-door had slid out of mid air in the middle of the room. For one horrible, heart-stopping moment he had thought it was another Ceccec. Then Trix had staggered out, a hand to her forehead.
'Trix!' The Doctor ran up to her as the tele-door vanished, holding out his hand to prevent her from collapsing. 'How are you?'
'Doctor,' she looked up at him. 'I'm. . . bugged.'
'Bugged?' said Fitz.
217.
Trix nodded. 'Something in my brain. He. . . ' She tried to say a word, but couldn't manage it. 'He can read my mind!'
'Fitz chair!' said the Doctor, holding Trix by her shoulders. Fitz collected a chair from the barricade and slid it behind Trix. The Doctor eased her into it. 'Who can read your mind, Trix?'
'I can't. . .
'It's all right,' said the Doctor. If there is a device in your brain it will prevent you from telling us who put it there. Just as it prevented you from telling us how you got from Tate Modern to Shardybarn.'
Trix smiled weakly. 'You guessed?'
The Doctor shook his head. 'I didn't want it to be true. Oh, Trix, Trix, Trix.' He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed the crown of her head.
'Anything I say won't be enough,' he said. 'But I do know you're not going to let this defeat you.' He held her by the shoulders and smiled at her. Then his smile fell as he looked deep into her eyes. 'And whoever else else is in there,' he snarled, his breathing short with anger. 'There are some things I don't forgive.' is in there,' he snarled, his breathing short with anger. 'There are some things I don't forgive.'
Trix screwed her eyes shut and fell forward, her hands over her ears. 'I don't want him to see. I don't want him to know anything anything.' She sniffed. 'I'm not even going to think.' She spoke slowly. 'I stopped the Ceccecs. I destroyed their control panel thing. You're safe now.'
'You did it?' Fitz watched her with concern.
The Doctor turned to Charlton and Prubert. 'You two open that door,' he said, indicating the barricade. 'Charlton, get the power back on.'
'We've won ' Charlton began. 'She saved out lives '
'Celebrations later.' The Doctor placed a hand gently on Trix's forehead, stroking back her hair. She slumped on to her knees, falling asleep.
The Doctor turned to Fitz. 'Some sort of telepathic transmitter implanted in her brain. . . '
'A what?' said Fitz. 'A telepathic bug?'
The Doctor trailed his fingers through Trix's hair. Then he found something and parted the hair at the nape of her neck.
Fitz leaned forward. It was difficult to see in the gloom, but there was a black square stapled to her skin.
'So that's how they knew where we were,' said Charlton as he dragged the table away from the door. 'That's how they found us on Valuensis. . . and Minuea.'
'And the Astral Flower!' said Prubert, rubbing his beard.
The Doctor nodded. 'And that's how they found us here.'
Charlton let the table drop. 'But Trix. . . I never told her the co-ordinates '
'You wouldn't need to, Charlton,' said the Doctor, smoothing Trix's hair back into place. 'All she would need do would be to look out of the window. The 218 constellations '
' would reveal the location of the base,' finished Fitz. 'Right.'
'Obvious, but very clever.' The Doctor let go of Trix and put a finger to his lips for silence. 'We must be careful.'
'What? Not to wake her?' said Fitz.
'Yes,' said the Doctor, then he whispered, ' and because someone's listening and because someone's listening.'
When I wake up the Doctor is sitting at my bedside, looking at me with his sleepy, inquisitive eyes. He leans forward and says, 'Trix?'
I pull myself upwards. I'm still fully dressed, but a sheet has been placed over me. 'I was asleep. . . '
Then the memories flood back and my stomach wrenches. I double up, gasping.
Martin. He did this to me. I must tell the Doctor everything The migraine returns with a throb. My vision sparkles.
'Don't try to talk,' he says. 'And don't try to tell me who did this to you. The telepathic transmitter will prevent you from saying their name.'
'Transmitter?' I feel woozy. I can barely keep my eyes open. The nausea remains in my throat. But I'm not going to be sick. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me do that. I won't give you that, Martin.
I remember something he said. 'I have shared your dreams.' He has been within me in my sleep. He will have seen stuff even I can't remember. Memories that are so long buried they only come back to me in my dreams.
There's a knock at the door. It's Fitz. 'Hiya,' he says, and that's all he can think to say. He sits down at the end of the bed.
The bedroom is brightly lit. They must've got the power back on. Through a porthole, I can see rising stars. Oh, I remember. The s.p.a.ce station is rotating.
The centrifugal force provides the artificial gravity.
'Trix,' the Doctor says. 'The device. . . I can deactivate it. It shouldn't hurt, or cause you any harm, but. . . '
'. . . but you thought you'd ask me first?'
'Yes,' he says, holding up his sonic screwdriver. 'With your permission, I can break the telepathic link.
'Go for it.'
The Doctor places a hand on my back and helps me sit up. Under the Doctor's guidance, Fitz lifts my hair. I feel his fingers tickle the back of my neck and there's a high-pitched warble and Trix felt her migraine lift. She looked around the bedroom, rubbing her eyes.
The Doctor switched off the sonic screwdriver, and Fitz gave her a supportive smile.
219.
'You did it?' said Trix.
'No one can hear you now. Your thoughts are your own.'
Thank G.o.d for that, thought Trix. She felt liberated. She felt as though suns.h.i.+ne had broken through the thunderclouds. She felt as though she was going to be sick.
And now she could be sick without Martin looking. She got up and staggered to the bathroom, clicking the door behind her.
Two minutes later, Trix splashed cold tap water on to her face and examined her reflection. She smiled at the girl, who smiled back. And it was only her behind those catlike eyes. Her and no one else.
Trix returned to her bedroom to find the Doctor and Fitz waiting for her. 'It was Martin,' she said. 'Someone I met at Tate Modern. Looks about twenty-five but is really fourteen thousand. He's behind it all.'
The Doctor wore a guilty expression. 'Trix. I didn't quite tell you the truth.'
'What?'
'The bug in your brain I haven't broken the link.'
'What?'
The Doctor held up his hands. 'Don't worry I've put a block on the transmission. No one can hear what you're thinking. And Martin will believe I have cut you off completely.'
'But you haven't?'
The Doctor brushed a stray hair from his eyes. 'Trix, we need to know what Martin plans to do next.'
'Do next?' Trix plumped herself down on the bed. 'I tricked him and destroyed his Ceccec thing. We've beaten him '
Fitz gave her nervous smile. 'The Doctor doesn't think so.'
'What?'
The Doctor rubbed his hands. 'I think. . . it was a little too easy.'
'Easy?' Trix was appalled. ' Easy Easy?'
'Trix,' the Doctor said, 'Martin could read your mind. He could have stopped you from destroying his "Ceccec thing" if he'd wished. He wants us to think think we've beaten him. we've beaten him.
'You think he's planning something?'
'I don't know for sure. That's why I need your help.'
'What with?'
'The telepathic transmitter in your brain. . . I can reverse the flow of the signal. Rather than have him listening in on your thoughts, I can, I hope, allow you to listen in on his. It's like. . . turning a microphone into a speaker.'
Trix didn't like the use of the word 'hope'. 'You want to use this thing, implanted in my head ' She realised she could feel the device pinned to her 220 neck. Presumably while it had been activated it had been telling her not to notice it. 'You want to use it, so I can read Martin's mind?'