Doctor Who_ To The Slaughter Part 43

'Sook!'

Sook tried to get up. Her body wasn't responding.

'No! Try to stay still, please, you'll hurt yourself!'

She dragged herself towards the wobbling b.i.t.c.h. She'd bite her ankle.

232.

'I I'll try to find help. I'll be back!'

The woman thumped off, and Sook gave a grizzling wail of frustration.

That just left the thin fella sleeping on the floor to kill.

Slowly, painfully, she started to drag herself towards him.

The Doctor ran back the way he had come. But by the time he'd reached the great white storage bay, there was still no sign of his quarry. He began to worry. Had Klimt dodged past him? Was he already entering the control room, dispatching Halcyon and destroying the controls, or. . . ?

No. Klimt was there, leaning against a crate, lying in wait. His go-slow must have been a ploy to catch his aggressors off guard and it had worked.

The Doctor was now out in the open, with no cover and only a cloak to fight with.

Klimt brought up his gun and fired.

The Doctor threw himself aside, launched himself into a forward roll and jumped back to his feet. The next blast almost blew his legs off. Weaving about desperately, he avoided a miniature blitz of blasts and reached the monolithic shelter of the largest crate in the place, panting for breath.

'You must have enjoyed the irony, Klimt,' the Doctor shouted. 'Taking the ident.i.ty of a supervisor! You've been running this show from the start.'

'Naturally,' said Klimt. He fired again, a blast of energy ricocheting off the crate.

'But why, Klimt? What's it all been for?' The Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver. 'You can't cope with the world the way it is so you'll show others how to destroy it, hmm? Is that it?'

'All my life I've been building weapons,' Klimt shouted back. Again, he fired the blaster, as if to underscore the point. 'Now I've created the ultimate way to destroy, you expect me to hand that over to someone else, so they they can profit by it?' He giggled, and his words started to slur. 'It's my scientific duty to see my work is placed responsibly. I must know its intrinsic value is recognised.' can profit by it?' He giggled, and his words started to slur. 'It's my scientific duty to see my work is placed responsibly. I must know its intrinsic value is recognised.'

The Doctor aimed the sonic screwdriver at the nearest disc. The remote on Blazar had sent commands on different frequencies, if he could mimic those. . .

'So, you arrange your own private auction with the sc.u.m of the galaxy, hmm?'

'They comprehend the value of my life's work.'

'Which is more than you do, deep down, isn't it?' Sluggishly the disc was responding. 'You're desperate for someone to hang a price tag around your neck, to prove to you that your life is worth something. But at the end of the day, you don't value life. Not even your own. Isn't that so?'

Klimt fired again. The blast echoed off the crate. He couldn't see that slowly, falteringly, the disc was circling round high over his head. 'Spare me the amateur psychology Doctor.'

233.

'You're just a little man trying to mean something!' A little closer. . . that bald spot would make a tempting bullseye. 'But you'll never find meaning in destruction, don't you see that?'

'Is that a fact?' Klimt came out from the shelter of his crate. His eyes were pink and wild, his skin sweaty, his hair was practically on end. He started marching belligerently towards the Doctor's hiding place. 'What do you know about my life's meaning?'

'Are you so sure I'm not armed, Klimt?' The Doctor made frantic adjustments to the oscillations of the screwdriver. 'Stay where you are.' Hitting a sitting duck was a big enough challenge, but a moving target. . . 'I'm warning you!'

'No you're not, you're preaching,' Klimt shouted, firing again. 'I won't be preached to.'

'Take a look at yourself, Klimt,' the Doctor called. 'How much diamorphine have you pumped into yourself to fill the holes? To kill the time spent waiting.

To keep yourself afloat.' The disc responded to the next tug too violently it overshot, and the Doctor tried frantically to compensate. 'Look at the state you're in!'

'The effects are held in check,' he snarled, 'a perfect chemical balance.'

'Oh, your pills, yes, of course.' The Doctor lowered the screwdriver for a moment and gasped. 'Oh no. Those pills in your old jacket that Trix said were missing. You You took them, didn't you took them for taking?' took them, didn't you took them for taking?'

'Really, Doctor, they were were mine!' mine!'

'No, they weren't. I threw yours away.' He laughed mirthlessly. 'Oh great and mighty scientist. You've been blocking the effects of a concentrated narcotic with aspirin.'

'No!'

'Look at yourself, man,' he shouted. 'A wreck. Unfocused, uncoordinated, your chemical resistance wearing thin.'

'You won't stop me,' Klimt screamed.

A cue if ever I heard one, thought the Doctor, and with a twist of the screwdriver's housing, jammed all signals and brought the magnetic disc cras.h.i.+ng down from the sky. thought the Doctor, and with a twist of the screwdriver's housing, jammed all signals and brought the magnetic disc cras.h.i.+ng down from the sky.

But it seemed to recover its electronic wits and jerked to a stop a good eight feet above Klimt's head. He never even noticed the danger.

'I'm going to kill you, Doctor,' he hissed thickly. 'Then I'm going to make sure you can't touch my creations.'

'Klimt, the junky G.o.d of slugs,' jeered the Doctor, fiddling desperately with the screwdriver. 'Is that the lofty pinnacle you've reached in life?'

Klimt fired the gun again. But the blast was feeble and small, the power-pack finally exhausted. He threw the gun away and ran full-pelt towards the Doctor's hiding place, his lungs emptying a demonic screech.

234.

Chapter Thirty.

Halcyon sat with every nerve on fire in this strange, unfamiliar darkness, trying his best to shut out the stench of blood and death. At least the computer was compliant and talkative, and gave him the option of cancelling any instruction he might give.

'Begin third dynamical cl.u.s.ter,' Halcyon said, picturing the Jovian system in his mind. 'Link thirty-nine, Thyonie. Link forty Hermippe. Link forty-one, Aitne. . . '

'Satellites linked in,' said the computer.

There was a sudden noise behind him. 'Who's there?'

Silence. Only his blood thumping through his temples.

Then hands closing on his throat and a female hiss of triumph.

Halcyon cried out, wrenched himself back and broke her grip by falling off his chair. He landed on something some one one soft, and yelped in disgust. soft, and yelped in disgust.

Straight away his attacker was back on top of him, but he had brought up his feet to protect himself, lodged them against her chest and pushed her away.

There was a heavy bang as she hit something.

Trembling, he raised his voice, spoke quickly. 'Link Eurydome and Euan-the, fourth dynamical cl.u.s.ter!' He strained to hear a telltale sound from his unknown enemy that might give away her position, started backing away on his hands and knees. Hit something the wall, the console? He was dazed, disorientated.

'Link forty-four, Euporie,' he stammered. 'Link forty-five. . . ' His mind went blank. How this b.i.t.c.h must be laughing at him! 'Orthosie! Link forty-five, it's Orthosie!'

'Satellites linked,' purred the computer.

He heard the stamp of feet. The b.i.t.c.h wasn't laughing. She was coming to get him.

As Klimt neared the crate, the Doctor burst out of hiding then dodged aside matador-style and hurled Halcyon's cloak over him.

As Klimt flapped about under the heavy fabric, the Doctor aimed a kick at him but somehow Klimt saw the move coming, grabbed hold of the Doctor's foot and twisted it up and around with savage strength.

235.

Overbalancing, the Doctor hit the ground hard, the impact jarring the sonic screwdriver from his hand. He scrabbled for it but Klimt kicked it clear of his reach.

'You sought to stop me like this?' he hissed, swaying uncertainly. He hurled the cloak contemptuously at the Doctor's face. 'Pathetic.'

The Doctor dragged it clear and felt something sharp-edged inside. His fingers closed on it Halcyon's little shaving box.

'Nothing will stop me, Doctor.' Klimt smiled, scratching a sore on his lip.

'I'm at the top of my game, can't you see that?'

The Doctor used his elbows and feet to slide himself backwards across the smooth floor. 'You're off your face I can see that right enough.'

But Klimt seemed not to hear, stalking after him. 'Rising higher than anyone before me. While you you're dying.' He lunged forwards, arms outstretched.

The Doctor gasped as Klimt gripped him by the hair and smashed his head down against the floor. He opened his eyes, saw the disc more-or-less overhead, the screwdriver on the floor just a few feet beyond his reach. He struggled to slide just a little further but Klimt was straddling his waist, trying to pin him down, lifting his head again to bring it down Crack Crack. The Doctor's vision blurred as his skull was smacked down against the floor again and again.

But if he could get just a little little further. . . further. . .

'Let go,' Klimt spat, his hands closing around the Doctor's windpipe. 'Death's what gives life meaning, Doctor. And it's mine mine to deal out.' to deal out.'

'A hair-raising notion,' gasped the Doctor, one outstretched hand closing on the screwdriver at last. With the other he opened Halcyon's shaving box and emptied it over Klimt's head.

Klimt yelled in alarm, clutched at his silvery thatch as the hungry nanites began to devour every hair.

And the Doctor switched off the screwdriver, killing its dampener field.

The disc throbbed back into full magnetic life. It pulled on the busy metal in Klimt's hair, yanked him off his feet with the force of attraction; his head made a dull clang as it struck the disc's underside. Kicking and screaming, he hung helplessly from the disc as it floated back to its default alt.i.tude, way up towards the ceiling.

'I think perhaps you always knew deep down, Klimt.' The Doctor stared up sadly at the struggling figure. 'No such thing as a consequence-free high.'

The hair, like the dream, was gone. And the Doctor watched Klimt come cras.h.i.+ng back down to earth.

The echoes of the impact died in just a few seconds, leaving the gentle shus.h.i.+ng of the life support the only sound in the great chamber.

He got to his feet, dabbing cautiously at the back of his head. He had to get back to Halcyon fast.

236.

Then he heard a thunder of feet behind him. He turned with some surprise to find a large lady adopting an aggressive fighting stance. Her nose and eyes were wet from crying.

'h.e.l.lo, I'm the Doctor,' he said quickly. 'I'd love to stay and chat but I need to rush off to the control room. There could be very little time.'

'You're a doctor?' the woman relaxed her pose, looked overwhelmed with relief. 'You have to help me. Everyone's gone crazy, they've turned into de-mented killers! Even people I know!'

He started striding back the way he'd come. 'Work's in hand to stem the influence at source at least, I hope it is. But I don't know if the effect can be reversed, Miss. . . ?'

'Mildrid,' she said, rus.h.i.+ng to catch him up. 'Doctor, it must be reversed!'

'Well, I'm open to suggestions.'

'Could it be that some kind of electrical discharge can clear the mind tem-porarily?' She paused. 'Kreiner said he'd been affected and that the shock '

'Kreiner?' The Doctor stopped to grab her by the arms. 'Fitz Kreiner? He's here?'

'He tried to kill me,' said Mildrid. 'But he's a sweet boy really.'

'He's affected but he's still alive?'

'I think so. He calmed right down when Sook placed a thinkset on him.'

'A thinkset. . . Then the mind can still interface, it's still responsive,' reasoned the Doctor, 'the power of thought's not entirely swept away. There's a chance these poor people under the slugs' influence may recover. Come on, we must see if Halcyon's succeeded!'

'Halcyon here here?' she said, slackjawed. 'Aristotle Halcyon?'

'Autographs later.' The Doctor set off at a run. 'Come on!'

Halcyon was trapped in a black corner of h.e.l.l, kicking and slapping at a threat he couldn't see. In his mind she was some hateful harpy, twice his size. He could feel her ripping at his flesh, her talons sc.r.a.ping down to his sternum.

And still the computer was requesting commands with idiotic politeness.

'I didn't hear your last instruction,' it said. 'Please say again.'

'Praxidike,' Halcyon gasped. 'Link fifty-one.'