Doctor Who_ To The Slaughter Part 29

160.

Tinya looked over his shoulder at the thick, grey lump, its thin fur coated in slime. She shuddered. It had been split down the middle but each segment writhed as if trying to twist free of its other half.

'I suppose they'll have blockades in place around Leda now,' she said.

'Yes. A quite glorious piece of misdirection, wouldn't you say?' He smiled down at the grisly specimen. 'While the Empire's eyes are on you, my friend, they won't see what's happening right under their noses. . . '

Tinya's wristpad chimed.

'Falsh again?' asked Klimt.

She nodded. 'He must be frantic.'

'I imagine he is. I presume he's been to the podule to deal with our friend from Icthal.' Klimt glanced back at her, half smiled. 'Will he be able to find this place?'

'He'll work it out. Though he'll have other priorities in a short while, wouldn't you say?'

'Just so long as he makes it. I'd hate for him to miss out on the finish.' Klimt had turned back to his slug.

The newsman droned on.

'But despite fierce speculation that Halcyon would withdraw from tonight's planned live vidcast spectacular, it seems the show will will go on. . . ' go on. . . '

'Good old dependable Halcyon.' Klimt straightened up, looked around at the corpses in the room. 'Clear these carca.s.ses away. They'll only clutter our own little show.'

Tinya raised an eyebrow. 'Perhaps you'd help me,' she said. 'Partner?'

He glanced at her, smiled apologetically. 'I must get on and patch in the solid-state visualiser. Our visitors will be appearing shortly.'

Tinya blinked. 'Known hostiles tolerated this close to '

'What's here for them to threaten, Tinya? A few old rocks long overdue for demolition?' He smiled again. 'They're simply in the vicinity for diplomatic reasons. Observers.'

'Well, they'd better be here to do more than just watch. Catch.' She exported a databubble from her wristpad and blew it over to him. 'The prices Falsh was asking. I managed to locate them in the end.' She looked at him steadily. 'It was quite a job.'

'I'm sure it was,' he said, catching the bubble.

'The contacts are code-named, I don't know who's '

'I do,' said Klimt, eyeing the details. 'And I've made contact in Falsh's place.

Well, well. I am glad you located these figures, Tinya. He was asking a higher price than I would have dared.'

She smiled. 'We have Falsh's ambition to thank for so much.'

Klimt popped the bubble. 'We'll request double those amounts.'

161.

A lazy smile stretched over her face. 'Double?'

'Why not? They'll see it's worth every cent.' He rubbed his eyes. '"Restless ambition, never at an end. How dost thou wear and weary out thy days."'

Double those amounts! thought Tinya. thought Tinya.

'The bodies, Tinya. If you wouldn't mind?'

She turned and stooped to wrestle Phaedra's stiff corpse over to the side wall. Klimt busied himself working on some of the computer banks lining the walls.

Then a sharp hissing, cracking noise rang out, and a sulphurous smell caught in Tinya's nostrils.

She looked up to see a shadow had swooped into the hard light of the shed.

It was squat, muscular, with a broad head, and from its silhouette it seemed to be wearing some kind of armour.

'Bidder number one in our little auction,' said Klimt. 'Entirely punctual as predicted.'

'It won't be able to see the others?'

'No, nor hear them. They're only projections. The body of each will be aboard their s.p.a.ces.h.i.+ps, in orbit. But they'll each be able to see and appreciate what we have in store.'

The shadow peered about. Its hands were thick with wide, pointed fingers, like fat stars.

'Not long now,' said Tinya.

In its tray, the dissected slug went on wriggling and writhing.

162.

Chapter Twenty.

Fitz stood waiting in the wings, looking out on the immensity of the stadium.

The Luxemburg-sized pink pitch had magically filled with seating holograms projected on to low level force-s.h.i.+elds, apparently. Whatever, they seemed to keep the punters' b.u.ms happy.

The same technology was used to create a number of virtual sets on the gargantuan stage. In its natural state, the stage itself was bare white while the backdrops were painted in Halcytone (what else?). But it seemed people's attention spans were as long as a mayfly's s.e.x life these days you never used the same set for more than five shots, that was the rule of thumb. Fitz had seen them at rehearsal, switching between styles and periods, transforming the scenery and layout in an instant.

To his surprise, at one point he saw an adaptation of his Mechtan layout being tried out as a backdrop clearly PadPad must power the technology.

But in the end, the director had decided against Mechta, feeling it a touch insipid. It's a b.l.o.o.d.y sight better than this place, mush, It's a b.l.o.o.d.y sight better than this place, mush, Fitz felt like saying. Fitz felt like saying.

But there was nothing insipid about the way he felt looking out at the staggering sea of people out there. The atmosphere in the stadium was. . . well, it was. . . He shook his head. There were no words for it. For G.o.d's sake, there were literally a million people over there! A special sonic part.i.tion had been placed between stage and audience without it, the artistes wouldn't be able to hear themselves speak over the deafening clamour, let alone hit their spots or remember to cue in the commercials.

He turned to see Halcyon swaggering towards him, impeccable in a seam-less black suit piped with glittering blue and a dark, flowing cloak. He wielded his cane in a flamboyant manner, a demure deb's delight on one side and Roddle on the other. For some reason Fitz had imagined Halcyon would be ma.s.sively uptight about going on in front of all these people, but he seemed surprisingly sanguine.

'Don't mind the crowds, then, Halcyon?' he ventured.

Halcyon gripped him fondly by the shoulder. 'I deal with them simply by pretending they aren't there.'

'Shame we can't do the same for the s.p.a.ce slugs,' said Roddle. He looked flushed, his eyes were darting about all over the place. The sides of his mouth were flecked with spit. Fitz guessed Roddle had his own way of dealing with 163 the pressure of that kind of audience.

Fitz cleared his throat self-consciously. 'Sook not about?'

'She's in the control suite with that oaf of a director,' said Halcyon. 'Making sure I get my close-ups.'

'Oh. Right.' Wheeling high above the stage was a flock of silver discs with inbuilt cameras. They were a light show all by themselves; the brilliance of the stadium lights caught on their sleek housings and was sent coruscating into the crowds.

'No Falsh, no Tinya, no news. And therefore, no demolition tonight.' Halcyon brushed his hands together as if dusting something away. 'Still, we have your box, Kreiner. Your marvellous, impossible box!'

'Yes, you do.' Fitz nodded sadly. 'But you haven't managed to find out anything about my friends.'

'A little patience, Kreiner. I promised you my protection, and that you shall have. And since you have given us your support so freely, I give you you my word that we shall find the fate of your friends.' my word that we shall find the fate of your friends.'

That sounded unpleasantly final to Fitz, but he let it go.

'Now, boys, you must excuse me. I have to prepare myself for my big entrance,' said Halcyon.

'As the bishop said to the actress,' said Fitz, watching the demure girl lead off Halcyon through the black velvet drapes to his starting position, behind a doorway at the top of an impossibly large flight of virtual marble steps.

The crowd were starting to clap and stamp in antic.i.p.ation. The whole stadium began to shake.

'Not long now,' said Roddle. 'Think I'll go and watch it on the box in my room. Want to come?'

Fitz pointed to the TARDIS. 'I think I'll stay and watch my own box, thanks.'

In the control suite, hovering high above the stage, Sook finished programming Halcyon's preferred angles into his personal camdroid. She didn't really need to be here she'd only wanted to get away from the h.e.l.lish hubbub below. But she hadn't banked on being squashed in with the network's announcer a pyramidal mound of flesh who liked to be called The Voice who gargled noisily with mint.w.a.ter every other minute.

Boko, the director, dark, slim and competent, was sat ahead of her, tracing his long fingers delicately over the shot-screen, guiding the various cams in their fluid flight over the stadium. He barked out angles and crossfades, and the droids complied.

She viewed the feed from her camdroid, which was hovering beside Halcyon at the top of the scaffolding. He looked calm and well. She could see his 164 lips moving silently, recognised the rhythm. The calming mantra she'd taught him.

She thought of Kreiner, the look on his face as he'd shouted at her, and her own lips moved with Halcyon's in sympathy.

As Roddle staggered off, Fitz stared out again over the seething, teeming crowd. They looked like a big special effect mirror shots, stock footage, somehow unreal. All those people, still stamping their feet and kicking up that tremendous vibration. It made him feel slightly dizzy.

When he turned back around he saw Falsh waiting in the wings.

First thought: his head had gone funny. He blinked, expecting the phantom to vanish.

But no, he stubbornly remained, impa.s.sive, his back to the velvet drapes.

No retinue of guards, no Tinya. . .

Something broke inside Fitz. He bunched up his fists and strode up to Falsh, determined and purposeful.

'All right, you,' Fitz said, halting just in front of Falsh. 'It's time we talked.

Where are my friends? What have you done with them?'

Falsh just looked at him contemptuously.

'There's nothing you can do to me, you know.' Fitz fought to keep his voice from wobbling. 'Don't think about setting your dogs on me. I'm mates with Halcyon. And. . . And I do judo, too, so you'd better watch it!'

Falsh didn't respond. There was a low sn.i.g.g.e.r from behind the drapes.

'Who's that?' Fitz demanded. He a.s.sumed a kind-of Kung Fu position, hoping he could hold it without trembling. 'Come out of there, and no funny business. I can break your boss's neck with two fingers!'

The sn.i.g.g.e.ring became a gale of laughter. Fitz recognised it at once.

'Trix!' he yelled, almost dancing for joy as Trix's blonde spiky head popped out through a gap in the drapes and peered over Falsh's shoulder. 'This is so fab! Where's the Doctor?'

'Shh. First things first, Hong Kong Phooey,' said Trix, composing herself. He saw she was poking a gun in Falsh's ribs. 'All right, Falsh. Get down on the floor. Face down.'

He didn't move.

'Do it,' she hissed in his ear, working the gun barrel between his ribs. Slowly, Falsh knelt down.

'All the way,' Trix insisted, her voice hard. She crouched beside him, jabbed the gun against the back of his neck. 'You've had this coming a long time, Falsh.'

'Trix?' Fitz felt his smile fading. He glanced around, hopeful of spotting the Doctor, but there was no sign of him, nor any guards, nor even any TV 165.

people. The lights in the stadium were starting to dwindle, and the sound of the crowd with them.

Falsh, his face still impa.s.sive, eased himself down flat on the floor. The stadium fell silent, as if they could see this too, this crooked mogul in the halflight, lying in the dust. As if they were holding their breath. Once Falsh was down, Trix stepped on top of him; one foot on the small of his back, the other between his shoulder blades.

'How does it feel, Falsh?' Trix asked coldly. 'How does it feel to have someone walk all over you you?'

'What are you going to do?' Falsh muttered, face down.

Fitz looked at her. 'Yeah, what are are you going to do?' you going to do?'

Trix lowered her gun so it pointed at his head. Fitz opened his mouth to protest.

'I'm going to do this this,' she said.

And standing on tiptoes on her makes.h.i.+ft step, she coiled her free arm around Fitz's neck and gave him a surprisingly warm embrace.

Fitz threw both arms around her and felt like he'd come home.

'This is a crazy, stupid time,' Trix murmured into his neck. 'I couldn't believe it when I saw you just standing there. I'm glad you're OK, Fitz. I'm glad I can depend on you.'

'To be predictably dumb, you mean?'