Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Times Crucible - Marc Platt [32]
The Captain's body twisted with the hatred that flowed through it. It loomed over him, black against the starfield overhead. "You are forfeit. A need no longer."
This was the dismissal he had dreaded. "I'll find Shonnzi too. I swear it!"
"The Future? Find that too?" Even in the harsh croaking there was a note of sarcasm.
"Yes. Yes!"
"Not so far."
"Then I'll find it now."
"Now! It is always Now." The Captain's eyelet clusters spread wide, each optic nodule moving by itself to catch every detail of its surroundings, like two water anemones clinging to the sides of a polished rock. Even when it screamed, the dry, harsh voice of the Process came like a shouted whisper. And it screamed a lot.
"The World City, in the Beginning the Process makes it all. But Doctor steals the Future. Only Now left. Now, Now disrupts. Pattern changes. The Future, Phazels must find it!"
"You need me to control them."
"You are forfeit. Phazels, they learn to obey the Process."
"No!" protested Vael.
"The stolen Future, it must be found!" The monstrous guard turned and lurched away along the passage.
"Wait!"
But the Process never listened. It just issued impossible instructions and expected results. Vael leant heavily against a carved grey lectern, a bird of prey that struggled in frozen flight halfway out of a wall. He stared after the Captain with a look of desperation.
Something slipped into his eyeline. He scooped up a stone and flung it in spite at the silver-coated cat that was watching him from a portal. The stone's impact flung up a cloud of dust. When that cleared, the creature was gone.
Vael stumbled away in the other direction. He had endured the Process's rages before. But how could he survive outside the monster's service? He was getting angry. Nor could the Process survive without him. There were ways to regain its favours. His position would be restored once he brought the monster Shonnzi.
Ace could hear Shonnzi's voice. She had been woken by the sound of an argument carried on in hoarse whispers. It was still dark and it took moments to remember where she was. Someone, Shonnzi she supposed, had laid a long heavy coat over her to keep her warm.
"Of course there's a reason for it, stupid! It's an occasion. Isn't that when you're supposed to celebrate?" His voice came from a little way off.
Another man's voice, older and deeper, but equally agitated, came in response. "This food is for emergencies. You had no right to break it out."
"It was me that got it for you in the first place," muttered Shonnzi. "I'll get you more . . . if you need it."
A woman's voice cut in, this one more gentle. "I don't understand what we have to celebrate anyway. And I can't wear that."
"Why do you always have to be so boring?" Shonnzi complained.
"It's one of his games," said another, less stuffy male voice. "Not a good time for that now, Shonnzi. Big trouble outside. Nothing to dress up for. Another time, eh?"
"Surely we're not going to stay here?" added a second female, more cultured than the first. "There could be guards at any moment."
"You're all going to enjoy yourselves!" came Shonnzi's voice through clenched teeth. "Stupid grumblies. Now who wants another biscuit?"
Ace turned over on her musty bed. A panelled silk screen blocked off the rest of the hall. Or rather, blocked her in. There was a candle flame glowing on the other side which cast shadows on to the screen's surface.
"Well, I'll have one," said the first, gentler woman. "I want to know what's happened. What exactly are we supposed to be celebrating?" A tall, slender shadow moved across the screen, followed by a bulkier shape.
"Come on, Pekkary," said the friendlier man, "they haven't found us here before. At least let's eat something before we move."
There were moments of movement, when shadows slid back and forth over the silk. Then Shonnzi said, "Pekkary, remind me of what happened in the Beginning."
"This is not the time," complained