Cold Fusion - Lance Parkin [97]
The Doctor raised an eyebrow.
‘I met him at the Imperial. He’s a crim– he keeps shifty-looking company. His name is Bruce.’
Nyssa put a hand on her shoulder. ‘He’s explained all that, Tegan. It’s a long story. His real name is Chris. He knows the Doctor.’
‘Well, I don’t know him,’ the Doctor said. ‘Are these yours, by the way?’ The Doctor patted the kit box and slid it over to her.
‘The fusion bombs!’ Nyssa exclaimed. ‘You got the magnetic clamp off.’
The Doctor frowned. ‘How on earth did you get hold of such an impressive arsenal, hmmm?’
‘That’s another long story, Doctor. Chris needs help.’
Tegan had been examining him the whole time. She looked up, shaking her head. He’d already lost pints of blood, the shock alone would be enough to kill him.
‘Where are Adam and Quint?’ the Doctor asked suddenly. They weren’t here, and now he mentioned it, Tegan couldn’t remember seeing them climb up.
‘Adam?’ Chris coughed. ‘Are Forrester and Gemboyle here, too?’
The Doctor tilted his head to one side. ‘Gemboyle? That name rings a bell. Before continuing his train of thought, he winced. The Doctor could hear something, Tegan realized. After a moment, she could too: a siren.
A hovercopter was heading towards them over the horizon, a searchlight probing the ground.
‘Sir, cloud cover is now one hundred per cent... There is massive electrical activity, and it’s interfering with our sensors, transmats and communication beams.’
‘What is the origin of the storm?’
‘Unknown. There is no meteorological reason.’
‘We’re getting pictures from Prvanishnikov sir’
‘Pictures? What do you mean?’
The holopit lit up.
There was a flash of lightning.
A tall, angular figure faded into view an inch above the door of the main dining hall.
‘These are pictures that were taken by a maintenance droid, sir. According to the timecode they are an hour old.’
The same time that the Machine was activated, Medford noted. On the screen, the ghostly figure raised its hand, then brought it down swiftly. A line of flame appeared in its wake: The apparition trailed his fingers through the fire, drawing a swirling pattern with the flames. The picture focused on the symbol which hung, burning in the air The apparition stepped down onto the floor. There was a rumble somewere in the distance. The new arrival cocked his head, as if it was the first time he’d ever heard thunder, then continued his work.
The robot maintained its surveillance. The figure bent down, and spat on the ground. It drew a symbol like a cross from the saliva, then ran its index finger down his forehead.
‘Translation rune placed.’ The figure was male, now, his features were softer. He flexed his fingers, tested his weight in this new gravity.
Join me.
The room was suddenly full of them: men and women in stiff, high-collared robes. They stretched and shook as if they had woken from a deep sleep.
‘We must secure this world.’
Some of them began clearing a space in one corner of the room. The others were drawing patterns on the floor and walls, even into the air. An elaborate design emerged, a fractal spiderweb with a clear focal point. That done, six of them moved towards the centre of the design, sprinkling water on the ground from their fingers. They took their places, chanting words of power. The fractal web began to hum with energy.
Medford pressed a control on his wrist. A coded signal ricocheted from his communicator to the nearest telecommunications console, then broadcast thirty miles to a military communications satellite. After a couple of microseconds’ pause, it was rerouted to the Icarus Skybase. There the communications centre picked up the command and sent a request to the hyperlink relay. Less than a second after he pressed the switch, the hyperlink whirred into life and broadcast a prearranged signal along a quark-thin beam into hyperspace. A second later the message was complete. Silently the computer erased all trace that the message had ever existed.