Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Times Crucible - Marc Platt [88]
The Doctor held the chimper flower like a microphone and keyed in vocal instructions. "Pilot ident," he barked. "Access me Architectural Configuration."
There was no window or menu to select from. He was working blind. The flower gave a little fizz and the ruby changed to amber.
"Doctor!" yelled Chesperl.
He turned and saw the Process advancing upon him, oblivious of the continuing barrage. He began to retreat under the lip of the attic.
"Localized configuration only," he instructed the flower. "Phrontisterie section. Delete floor and lower structure to ground level. Then reinstate solid floor and keep."
The Process bellowed as it cartwheeled in.
The Doctor dodged round the side of the ladder. There was no response to his command. The crystal stayed amber.
The command was correct. Why didn't it work? What had he forgotten now? "Where's Shonnzi when I need him?"
A wave of warm stench came over him. The monster loomed up. He tripped, his foot tangled in the cable. The shock brought sudden inspiration.
"Send, you idiot! Enter!" he shouted.
The stars above the street flickered and dimmed noticeably as the amber turned emerald with acceptance. The attic floor overhead blittered out of existence. The ladder clattered down, striking the Process across its serpentine body.
The room revealed above tapered up with bare rafters.
A massive grinding. The whole structure was sliding down between the side walls of the street.
It came down fast. The Process lunged wildly as the Doctor flung himself at the closing gap. He rolled under the descending wall with only inches to spare.
The room reached the ground with a heavy crash.
Ace was beside him with Chesperl and Amnoni in two seconds flat. "Geronimo, Professor! Cosmic stuff!"
"Is that well done in the King's English?" he said with an exhausted half smile.
"Well well done!" A bruise was already flaring blue across her cheek.
He reached out for the cable. It ran directly under the attic wall. The chimper flower was trapped beneath the Process's new cage.
There was the first of a series of crashes from inside. The Process was plainly hurling itself against the wall. They heard its muffled cries.
"That won't hold for long," muttered the Doctor. He looked up at Chesperl and Amnoni. They bowed their heads and turned away.
"Where's Shonnzi gone?" the Doctor said. "He knows this place inside out. I need his advice."
"Christ," said Ace. "I forgot."
22: The Frying Pan Option
Shonnzi.
There was a frightened thrill at the contact. So long since Vael had communicated like this. Easier than he imagined, putting junk thoughts into another head. Like the stallsmen in the markets on Gallifrey.
Why should he care? What Future did he have? So make it a game. One last game. It'll move the brat faster.
"Behind you, Shonnzi."
He could feel a reaction in the brat's head. He caught glimpses through the brat's eyes. Moving along the grey-green alleys towards the Dial Square. Always glancing behind. Coming this way. The little sheetsnacker's mind was churning. He thought the worst. Thought it was a summoning.
So it was . . . of sorts.
"It's getting closer. It'll catch you. Get away, Shonnzi!"
He backed the thoughts with a slug of fear.
A thought slammed defiantly back. No words. Just hatred.
It startled Vael. Little brat, he thought, you know. You know I'm in your head.
He sent: "Come on then. Come and find me. You can't do without me, Shonnzi. The Process is coming for you."
He began to laugh at the anger that was hurled back into his thoughts. The glimpses came faster. The brat was running now. And the streets were definitely turning green.
"Find me, Shonnzi. I'm waiting."
The brat was almost there. One more turning would do it.
"Nearly got you!"
Something hit Vael between the eyes. A blow from the inside of his skull. He stumbled and grabbed at a doorway for support.
A glimpse of swirling red eyelets and a hand over Shonnzi's face.
His head wanted to scream Shonnzi's scream.
Then nothing. No sight, no