Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [70]
It was the Relic. You could tell. You could tell, because everything in the ziggurat seemed to lead here, to this precise position in space-time. Every centimetre of architecture, every word spoken by every one of Qixotl’s guests, pointed to this vault like a neon sign. It all came down to this. The casket was the centre of the universe, and nothing else mattered.
Sam saw Kathleen step forward. She was walking normally now, except maybe for the slightest of limps. Sam got the feeling the casket was waiting for her, calling her over. Whispering. Even breathing.
The Lieutenant stopped in front of the box. Sam was sure she saw the casket flare up when Kathleen got within touching distance of it. Silver light washed over her hands as she raised them over the lid of the casket. The Relic was sucking in air, taking a deep breath. Anticipating.
Kathleen put her palms on the surface of the lid. Ready to open up the box and release the Relic.
‘Where’s Qixotl?’ hollered Mr Homunculette. ‘Get me Qixotl!’
At the moment, nobody seemed to know where Qixotl was. Speaking for himself, Kortez wasn’t particularly concerned. All things were one thing, he reminded himself, and all souls were one soul. The world of matter would move as it would move, regardless of the vain attempts of mortal flesh to disrupt its ebb and flow.
Although, to be honest, he was going to have to throttle Homunculette if the man didn’t shut up soon.
Homunculette lay on the floor of the anteroom, his hands bound behind his back. One of the death-cultists stood guarding him, prodding him in the stomach whenever he tried to get up, but still failing to keep him quiet. The other cultist, the woman, looked on without feeling.
‘Mr Homunculette attempted to assault me,’ she explained, turning to face Kortez.
The Colonel nodded. ‘Violence is a transient state of unilluminated physicality,’ he recited.
‘Quite,’ said the woman.
Kortez had awoken from his meditation a few minutes earlier, to find himself alone in the guest room. Lieutenant Bregman had gone missing, presumably having been carried away by the aforementioned ebb and flow of material existence. The sound of caterwauling had led him here, to an anteroom close to the centre of the ziggurat.
‘Animals! Heretics! Sadists!’ yelled Homunculette. The cultist guarding him duly planted a foot in his groin.
Cousin Justine kept her eyes fixed on Kortez. ‘I’ve been wondering about your place at this auction, Colonel. I mean no offence, but I think most of us were surprised to see humans in attendance here.’ A faint smile appeared on her face. ‘That is to say, representatives of the human race. Many of us still regard Earth as a low-interest world.’
‘We’ve got a special interest in the property, Ms Justine,’ Kortez told her. ‘UNISYC has a long-standing appointment with the man in the box.’
‘Cousin Justine,’ the woman corrected him. ‘But it’s the nature of your bid that interests me, Colonel. I’m curious to know what Mr Qixotl is hoping to gain from Earth. Not technology, certainly. And not information, either. Earth has no temporal defences. If our host wanted to know anything about your culture, he’d find it out for himself.’
‘There’s more to our existence than material concerns, Cousin Justine.’
Justine looked blank, although Kortez knew she understood him really. ‘Then your bid...?’
‘There are some powers in the universe that cannot be resisted,’ Kortez intoned. ‘The forces of karmic virtue and inner balance will be satisfied.’
Cousin Justine and her Little Brother exchanged glances. They looked confused, but Kortez knew it was only a front. Like him, they appreciated the fact that there were higher levels of existence, mysteries only the spiritually