Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [85]
The Doctor stood. ‘I was only thinking about Gallifrey’s responsibilities.’
‘Damn our responsibilities. This is war.’ Homunculette turned, to face the two Paradox cultists. ‘And I’ve got better things to do around here than talk to you.’
He started to move away, in the direction of Cousin Justine. The Doctor grabbed his arm. Homunculette spun on his heel, his fists clenched.
Luckily, it was at this point that Qixotl ambled into the anteroom. He cast his eyes around the room, a big cheesy smile on his face.
‘If I could have everyone’s attention?’ he said. ‘Lovely. Well, as you’ve probably noticed, I’ve shut off the alarms, and everything’s 100 per cent OK again.’
‘The-auc-tion?’ droned E-Kobalt.
‘Oh yeah, the auction. Well, seeing as most of us are already here, we might as well make a start, right?’
The Doctor frowned to himself. He had hoped to delay the auction a little longer. ‘I’m not sure we should rush into this –’ he began.
‘Shut up,’ snapped Homunculette.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Little Brother Manjuele, only now noticing Homunculette was free, and looking less than happy about it.
I THINK WE’VE WAITED LONG ENOUGH, said the patterns in the torchlight reflecting off E Kobalt’s head.
‘We’re all agreed, then,’ beamed Qixotl, deliberately avoiding the Doctor’s gaze. ‘Great. Mr Shift, d’you think you could go and fetch Mr Trask, at all? Save us time. Thank you.’ He strolled across the floor, heading for the doorway on the other side of the room. The space beyond it was unlit, the Doctor noticed. So far, nobody had gone anywhere near it. ‘If you’d all like to follow me, we can get this show on the road.’
There were mutters of relief from the assorted bidders. One by one, they followed Qixotl through the doorway. Homunculette was one of the last to go; he seemed determined not to let the Faction cultists get behind him at any point. The Doctor watched the Time Lord vanish into the darkness.
Damn our responsibilities. That was what he’d said. Homunculette had no sense of perspective, no concern for the universe-in-general, no regard for the consequences of his actions. The High Council had always been hypocritical in its dealings with other races, the Doctor knew that, but this was sheer bloody-mindedness.
Homunculette. A puppet. A thing created to act as an agent of a higher power. Was that all the Time Lord was? A little bundle of nerves and simple responses, doing the bidding of a Council that really couldn’t have cared less about the Laws of Time?
It wouldn’t have seemed so bad, if it hadn’t been for that one niggling little doubt at the back of the Doctors mind. Gallifrey had pushed him around, too. A show-trial here, a subtle manipulation there. Exarius. Peladon. Solos. Skaro. Time and time again, the High Council had dumped him in the middle of history’s battlezones, knowing how he’d react, knowing he’d do their dirty work for them.
That was the worst thing. That one niggling little doubt, that one nagging question.
Was Homunculette just doing the same things he’d done for the High Council... while he’d been alive?
9
ENFANT TERRIBLE
The antibody was larger than all its siblings, and the others had already started orbiting around it, accepting it as their natural-born leader. The first few antibodies had been small and simple, little more than fleshy lumps of matter with killing instincts wired into their heads, but the vault had become more ambitious after a while. The antibody – it liked to think of itself as the antibody, now – was very nearly sentient, or at least, as sentient as a life-form could be without there being any risk of it developing a code of ethics.
It floated up towards the ceiling of the vault, then hovered above the victim’s head for a few moments, its umbilical tube still tying it to its mother-bud. The victim lay among the growths on the floor, eyes and mouth wide open. The antibody smiled. Naturally, it had nothing but contempt for the girl. It had been grown from her biodata, so logically,