Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [148]
After all this time, after all this effort, the auction had come to nothing. Qixotl would have been livid, if he’d had any energy left. At the end of the day, having stuck out the threats and the assassination attempts, what did he have to show for it? Sod all.
No, it was even worse than that. He had pains in his chest, where the wound had been. And he had the Celestis hanging over him like a bad head cold. Yeah, he’d done the deal with Trask, he’d made sure he hadn’t been marked, and at least he was still alive and kicking. But then, he hadn’t told the Celestis the whole truth. He wondered if they’d have been so reasonable if they’d known what he’d been trying to pull off.
The Celestis, like most of the powers who’d attended the auction, thought the Doctor had died on Dronid. They thought the body had somehow been recovered from the wreckage of the big battle there, they thought Qixotl had managed to track it down before anyone else.
It wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t that simple at all. It was true, the body had been pulled out of the ruins on Dronid, but Mr Qixotl knew who’d put it there, and why. The pedigree of the corpse wasn’t as cut and dried as everyone seemed to think, not by a long chalk.
Qixotl’s fingers wriggled across the master console, decompiling the block transfer codes. Piece by piece, wall by wall, the City fell apart. As he worked, Qixotl began to wonder if he should go and hide out in some parallel universe or other for a while, until the heat died down. The true story of the Doctor’s death was complicated, very complicated, and he doubted the Celestis would be happy if they found out the full extent of his involvement.
This, he thought, is one secret I’m going to have to keep. I mean, really. If anyone figures out the whole story, I’ll never be safe again.
In Mictlan, on the top floor of a castle which might, to some eyes, have resembled a multi-storey car park, the Celestis kept an eye on the universe outside through the aperture at the centre of the Grand Hall. Specifically, they watched a certain rainforest on a certain water-rich planet in Mutters’ Spiral, where a battered police box stood under a darkening sky, sheltered by bioengineered banana trees.
The Celestis observed, without comment, as two humanoid figures stumbled into the box, a silver casket following them through the doors. Then there was a pause, of a good few minutes. In all that time, none of the Celestis said a word.
Finally, the box vanished, and the Celestis began to mutter among themselves. The Doctor, they rumbled, had left the Earth. None of the other powers attending the auction had tried to stop him. Their newest agent was safely away, ready for his first set of instructions.
With unusual good cheer, those among the Celestis who controlled the new agent – because there were many factions in Mictlan, of course, and not all of them had thought that getting involved with the Doctor was a good idea – widened the aperture, then reached out for the agent’s mind. The mark acted as a conduit, and through the conduit, orders were given.
The Celestis told the agent what they wanted. There was another pause. Then the agent told them that I’M TRAPPED WHERE AM I THE WALLS THE WALLS ARE WHITE EVERYTHING IS WHITE THERE’S SOMETHING IN HERE WITH ME NO OH NO IT’S ME IT’S ALL ME IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP I HAVE TO OBEY MY EMPLOYERS I HAVE TO OBEY THE CELESTIS WHO AM I WHO AM I WORKING FOR IT HURTS IT HURTS I HAVE TO OBEY YOU NO I DON’T HAVE TO OBEY YOU NOT YOU YOU’RE NOT THE ONES WHO GIVE ME MY ORDERS YES THEY ARE NO THEY’RE NOT IT HURTS SO MUCH HELP OH HELP THE WALLS THE WALLS ARE WHITE EVERYTHING IS WHITE WHERE AM I WHERE AM I WHERE AM I WHERE –
The Celestis closed the