Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [57]
Medford guessed this as soon as he had discovered which level they had ended up on. It was a big floor, but it was too much of a coincidence that the Patient was on that level. The ghosts seemed to be heading directly for the room, managing to beat the computer map’s optimum route by passing through a couple of the walls and partitions. They seemed to be navigating by instinct. They moved at a steady pace and ignored their surroundings.
Medford beat them to the life support chamber by running. Two of his officers came with him.
As the ghosts floated through the security hatch, they registered his presence. There were only three now. Three of us, three of them.
Medford looked at them closely. It was odd: they might be male, they might be female. He had assumed they were the former, judging by their height and build, but there were many human women of their size. If they were aliens...
Adjudicators spent a lot of their training learning not to make culturally specific assumptions: the Klulaki didn’t raise their hands to surrender, it was merely a greeting; if a member of a felinoid race smiled, it was baring its teeth; the Balvamans of Balvar were masters of delicate irony and sarcasm – everything they said was the opposite of what they meant.
The ghosts’ leader – the one in front, not necessarily their senior representative – drifted towards him. It tilted its head, watched his reaction closely. Medford stiffened, looking him straight in the eye. The other two circled the room, looking for the Patient.
If Medford could end this peacefully, then he would. He took a step forward. ‘I am Provost-General Medford, the leader of the human forces on this planet and the official representative of Glory, the Divine Empress of Earth and all her dominions. We are the major space power in this galaxy. Please identify yourself’
The wraith didn’t appear to hear the words, but seemed fascinated by the movements of his mouth. Medford turned away, a little selfconscious. Another ghost was passing its hand through the wall of the cryotube.
‘I must ask you, sir, to state your business or leave this world.’
And then they snapped out of existence. The time sensor stopped buzzing.
Tegan grasped the rung below and lowered herself, grasped the rung below and lowered herself, grasped the rung below and lowered herself... Her arms and calves were getting stiff now, the rungs were digging into her feet. She had given up trying to prevent the steady flow.of air that blew upwards from lifting her skirt. At least the air was warm. The Doctor was above her, with the mysterious woman above him. The Doctor still hadn’t explained who she was.
‘How many levels have we climbed past?’ The Doctor’s voice called down. What sort of stupid question was that?
If he wanted her to keep count, why didn’t he say so? She wasn’t even sure how long they’d been climbing. She told the Doctor as much.
‘Do you know which level your cell was on?’
‘No.’ Tegan paused. ‘There was a statue of Galilee Just outside for some reason.’
‘The Scientifica honour the great human scientists by –’
the rest of the Doctor’s words were swirled away up the ventilation ducting.
Tegan’s feet touched solid ground.
‘I’ve reached the bottom, she called up. She’d also laddered her tights.
The Doctor and his friend caught up with her after a couple of seconds. Neither of them had a hair out of place.
‘It was exactly the right length,’ the Doctor observed.
The ladder was perhaps two inches short of the ground.
There was a rumbling sound that built up to a crescendo, then died back down. The woman was whirling around, alarmed.
‘It sounded like a tube train,’ Tegan said cheerfully.
When you get nostalgic for the Circle Line, you really must be homesick, she realized. They were centuries in the future: surely everyone travelled around in electric cars and jetpacks by now.
‘You know, I think you’re right,’ the Doctor said. He set off in the direction of the noise.
‘I think I’ve twisted my ankle.