Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [91]
The way was open. Contact had been made. Now, thought Little Brother Manjuele, for the really nasty part.
Mr Qixotl took his place at the table, and had a good long stare at the faces around him. Colonel Kortez and Cousin Justine both looked serene; Qixotl might have believed they had something in common, if he hadn’t known that one was as mad as a duck and the other was part of the most dangerous politico-terrorist organisation this side of Event One. Homunculette was biting his nails, Trask was his usual charmless self, and E-Kobalt stood silently on the far side of the table, its head still twisting from side to side. In the Shift’s place, Qixotl had erected a small noticeboard, so everyone could read the entity’s messages.
Qixotl flashed them all a smile. ‘Right. Before we get down to it, maybe I should say a quick word about the way this auction’s going to work. Now, obviously, I don’t want money for the property. Y’know, most of us here are time-active... pardon me, Colonel... and we all know how useless hard cash is if you’re skimming time-zones. What I’m going to do is this: I’m going to start by asking each of you what kind of offer you’re thinking of making, just roughly, and I’ll let you argue your cases in a kind of rational, orderly manner afterwards. That OK with everyone?’
He looked for a reaction. Kortez was nodding, but nobody else looked very enthused. The muzak became 3 per cent more irritating than it had been previously.
‘Good,’ Qixotl mumbled, trying to sound like he meant it. ‘So. Who wants to start the bidding?’
There was a moment’s silence. The bidders were all trying to out-stare each other, Qixotl realised. The Kroton was the first to speak, presumably because it didn’t have any eyes and thus felt left out of the staring match. ‘You-re-quire-mi-lit-ar-y-spe-ci-fi-cations. Tech-no-lo-gi-cal-da-ta.’
Qixotl nodded. ‘That’s right, Mr E-K. That’s the kind of thing I’m after here. Got any suggestions, have we?’
‘On-be-half-of-the-Kro-ton-Ab-so-lute-I-am-au-tho-rised-to-off-er-you-the-be-ne-fits-of-Kro-ton-weapons-tech-no-lo-gy.’
Mr Qixotl wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He hadn’t researched the Krotons at all, so he had no idea what Kroton weapons technology was actually worth. ‘I’m with you so far. What kind of hardware are we talking about?’
‘In-re-turn-for-the-Re-lic-you-will-be-supplied-with-the-en-ti-re-mi-li-ta-ry-out-put-of-the-pla-net-Quart-zel-Eight-y-Eight-for-one-lo-cal-cal-end-ar-year.’
‘Er. Quartzel-88. And is that good, at all?’
The Kroton’s head rotated in an irritated fashion. ‘On-the-machine-looms-of-Quartzel-Eight-y-Eight-the-Krot-on-Ab-so-lute-grows-its-most-pow-er-ful-weap-ons. It-was-on-this-plan-et-the-Ab-so-lute-produced-the-de-vi-ces-which-dec-im-at-ed-the-Met-a-trax-i-homeworld.’
Sadly, Qixotl had never even heard of the Metatraxi. ‘Yeah, I’m sure. But what do these weapons do, exactly?’
‘The-wea-pons-of-Quartzel-Eight-y-Eight-re-duced-the-moons-of-Szac-ef-Po-to-pow-der. They-en-sured-the-surrend-er-of-the-com-bined-for-ces-of-Crip-tos-to-phon-Pri-ma.’
‘Can we have subtitles?’ Homunculette hissed.
HE SAID, THE WEAPONS OF QUARTZEL-88 WERE USED TO REDUCE THE MOONS OF SZACEF-PO TO POWDER, AND ENSURED THE SURRENDER OF THE COMBINED FORCES OF CRIPTOSTOPHON PRIMA, read the noticeboard.
The Shift was ideal for subtitles, thought Qixotl. ‘OK, listen. No offence, Mr E-K, but I’ve got to ask... so what?’
The Kroton’s head spun alarmingly. ‘I-do-not-un-derstand.’
‘Well, sure, you can wipe whole planets. But, y’know, that’s all a bit passé, right? I mean, a couple of decent-sized particle warheads could do the same kind of damage you’re talking about.’
‘The-weap-ons-of-Quartzel-Eight-y-Eight-have-re-peat-ed-ly-won-vic-tor-ies-for-the-Kro-ton-Ab-so-lute-ac-ross-the-Met-a-trax-i-bor-der-’
‘I’m sure they have,’ Qixotl cut in. ‘Look, maybe you could think things through for a bit longer, come up with a more coherent proposal while the rest of us are talking, yeah?