Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [12]
When the High Council had been told what the things were capable of, they’d thought it was absurd. Then they’d realised that the anarchitects were products of the same kind of technology the Time Lords had used to build the early TARDIS models. They’d had always had the knack, but only the enemy had thought of turning the technology into a weapon.
Homunculette tried not to scowl, but it went against his basic nature. Anarchitects. Obviously. The enemy had tracked him and Marie, just like the last time, and they’d taken the bridge away while he’d been crossing from the Albert Embankment to Parliament Square. Homunculette swore, sending bubbles full of expletives up towards the surface of the river. He should have asked Marie to land closer to the Square. He found himself remembering the horror stories he’d heard, about how the Lord Ruthventracolixabaxil had starved to death inside his own TARDIS when an anarchitect had hijacked the vessel and turned the central corridor into an endless Möbius loop...
No. No. He couldn’t let his imagination get the better of him, not now. He had a mission to complete, he could complain about the working conditions once it was all over. He was safe under the water, at least, where there were no walls or floors for the anarchitect to possess. So, he could try moving across the bottom of the river, getting as close to Parliament as possible before making any attempt to break the surface. If he was lucky, he might even shake off the anarchitect that way.
If he was lucky. Right.
Everyone stays away from this part of London, apparently. It smells of politics and bad radiation.
This city was a major population centre, once. One of the twelve key political sites on the planet, according to the Matrix records. The invaders came here, in their little toy saucers, letting Earth know it was hopelessly outgunned, casually wiping out the odd city by way of demonstration. When the demand for surrender came, some of the politicians sealed themselves into the Parliament buildings, and let the aliens set the corridors alight with them still inside.
Not out of principle. Politicians don’t have principles, not even on this side of Mutter’s Spiral. They just had nowhere else to go.
Wait. The weather must be clearing up, I’m getting traces again. Lifetraces, two of them, from inside one of the buildings. Homunculette must be one, so who’s the other?
Broadly speaking, the House of Commons hadn’t changed much in the 300 years since its construction. There’d been a renovation every half-century or so, the odd terrorist bombing to blow out the windows or gut the offices, but for the most part it was still the same old monstrosity it had always been.
Homunculette regarded the corridors of power with a mixture of contempt and disinterest. This, according to the High Council’s Information, was where he’d find the Relic. If the Matrix was right, it had belonged to the human military for the last century or so. When the invasion had come, and Earth society had collapsed overnight, all the trinkets the military had collected over the years had been dispersed, falling into the hands of the looters and the traders. One such individual, the Matrix data claimed, was holed up here.
Homunculette kept moving along the oak-panelled passages of the House, idly wiping the black river-sludge from his hands onto the lapels of his suit. The High Council had infopacked enough data about local culture for him to be able to find his way around, at least. There were still scorch marks on the walls, plus patches of ash where secretaries and security guards had been gunned down by the invaders, but other than that the corridors were cleaner than Homunculette would have expected. Well lit, too, by neon striplights that seemed to have been fitted quite recently. Signs of habitation, Homunculette deduced. Someone was in