Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [71]
The male cultist jerked a thumb in the Colonel’s direction, then put a finger to his temple and twirled it around. Kortez guessed it was some kind of secret sign. No doubt the man had recognised him as a spiritual equal.
Without warning, the air was filled with a high-pitched screaming sound, which seemed to ring out from every corner of the room at once. The toucans, Kortez realised. Out in the forest, the birds were screeching in agony, and the architecture here had obviously been designed to let the noise reverberate through the walls. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the alarm since he’d been in the ziggurat, but now the toucans were practically squawking their lungs out.
Something brushed across the Colonel’s spinal column. He looked down at his shirt, and caught sight of the letters moving around across the face of the UNISYC insignia.
THE CORE DEFENCES HAVE BEEN TRIGGERED, the Shift reported.
Cousin Justine had apparently seen the same message, though not necessarily in the same place. ‘Meaning?’
THE DEFENCES PROTECTING THE RELIC. TWO LEVELS DOWN.
The other cultist hissed. ‘Someone’s after the stiff.’
THEN THEY’RE NOT VERY INTELLIGENT. THE DEFENCES ARE PROGRAMMED TO TAKE INTRUDERS TO PIECES. WHOEVER’S IN THE VAULT, THEY’RE NOT GOING TO GET OUT ALIVE. WAIT. I’M GOING TO TRY SKIMMING THE CITY’S SYSTEMS. I’LL SEE IF I CAN IDENTIFY THEM.
There was a pause, during which everybody started squinting around the room, to see if there were any messages in the stonework they’d missed. Finally, the Shift returned.
COLONEL KORTEZ, it said. I’M AFRAID I’VE GOT SOME BAD NEWS.
‘You mean, this ship’s been attacked?’
The Doctor kept moving his hand across the interior wall of what he assumed was the black ship’s control area. ‘I don’t mean anything,’ he muttered.
‘But that thing... the dead thing, yeah?... it was a part of this ship’s crew?’
‘I should think so.’
‘And something’s killed it?’
‘Mmm. Tell me, how many Daleks did you invite to this auction?’
There was a moment’s shuffling. Outside the ship, the toucans had started shrieking again, but you could hear Qixotl’s nervous twitches even over that racket. ‘Just the two. The invites specify no more than two reps from any one, er, agency.’
The Doctor finally found what he’d been fumbling for. A square projection, set into the wall at waist height. He started fingering the mechanism. Sadly, it wasn’t designed for anything with fingers. ‘So. If we assume this was a Dalek vessel, there should be another body somewhere on board.’ He paused. ‘Qixotl?’
‘Uh, yeah?’
‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. And stop shuffling.’
‘What?’
‘My body. How did you get hold of it?’
There was no reply. ‘If my body’s so popular, a lot of people must have been waiting for me to pass away,’ the Doctor continued. ‘I’m assuming nobody thought they could take the risk of killing me themselves. My reputation must have been quite impressive, before the end.’
Qixotl mumbled what sounded like a “yes”.
‘I’d like to know how you managed to get your hands on it before anyone else,’ the Doctor concluded. ‘And I told you to stop shuffling.’
‘I’m not shuffling,’ Qixotl protested.
The Doctor fell silent. The shuffling went on.
‘Oh,’ said Qixotl.
‘Ah,’ said the Doctor.
He reached into his jacket pocket. Over the years, people had often commented on his ability to produce exactly the right item from his pockets at exactly the right time. Some had speculated that his pockets were extensions of the TARDIS, others had guessed he was just lucky. But then, they’d never read Yeltstrom’s Karma and Flares: The Importance of Fashion Sense to the Modern Zen Master. They didn’t appreciate the things a sentient life-form could achieve, if he was totally at one with the lining of his jacket.
The Doctor pulled a sink plunger out of his pocket, thrust it into the mechanism in the wall, and twisted it a little.
The secondary lighting system, the one the