Doctor Who_ Combat Rock - Mick Lewis [8]
Some of us make good living. Tourists come to Batu and from Batt also to see my home land. Races from the skies too. Papul has much to offer the curious, and the Indoni allow them to come see.’
The Doctor leant forward. ‘From the skies? Well, yes, I had noticed. I suppose many aliens come to Batu and Papul?’
‘Aliens? You mean the Different Ones?’ Wemus smiled, and the twinkle had returned. This was obviously a disingenuous attempt to act parochial and unsophisticated. The Doctor wasn’t fooled for a minute. ‘Many strange peoples from the skies come. Some also come see Papul, to see primitive peoples and animal, so my people can make honest money from them. Like you come. You want see Papul, no?’
‘We’d love to, wouldn’t we Victoria?’ The Doctor clenched his hands together and sat back, his face a picture of innocent delight. ‘But first of all we’d like to know which planet we are on.’
Victoria winced. However, Wemus seemed only amused by her companion’s eccentricity and not at all put out. ‘You are on Jenggel, my friends.’ He threw his cigarette butt away and patted the Doctor’s arm. ‘So maybe you want buy Wemus a drink and we discuss tomorrow, yes?’
The white man was looking at Wina.
Jamie could sense it as he handed the local girl her drink, and tried not to let it annoy him. It was natural the man should stare. Wina was the most beautiful girl in the club, and while the girl the older man was with was also very sexy, she was not in Wina’s class.
The man was obviously aware of this, and did not like it.
Not one bit.
Wina accepted her drink with a smile, looked down for a moment coyly, then caught his eye again, waiting. Jamie groped for words. He was not normally so inadequate when it came to chatting up the lasses. There was something about Wina that made him feel bashful. ‘So what d’ye do here, Wina?’ he asked in an effort to take control.
‘I work in shop furrniture,’ she purred in reply, and Jamie melted at the way she rolled her R’s. His rapture was pierced as he glanced sideways. He could see from the corner of his eye that the man in combat dress was looking at him now, and not in a pleasant manner. His female companion was trying to attract his attention and he was blatantly not listening. She tugged at him, and he slapped her. Not too hard, just a little cuff to make her stop. Jamie tensed. He did not want to stand by and watch that. His clan pride would not let him.
‘Wait a wee minute,’ he said to Wina and handed her his whisky glass to hold. She looked puzzled as he turned away and marched over to the spiky-haired man.
They confronted each other. The stranger did not look surprised to see Jamie approach. He smiled cruelly and contemptuously.
‘Yes, boy? What in Whore’s Hell do you want?’
He wore his sadness like a cloak. It went with him wherever he travelled. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this fate.
Maybe it was because he’d killed. Let’s face it, he did precious little else. And he enjoyed killing; or at least, he always bad done. So why should be be sad?
He remembered the boy he once was, and the first kill.
Some hole of an educational institution for rejects in a carbon monoxide-saturated suburb on Earth. That was when he roamed with gangs – leader of the pack, of course. But his first kill (the best) had been in the institution itself. Dinner time behind the hover cart sheds. Smoking crack and feeling up the post-pubescent girls – he’d only been fifteen himself. One of the boys made some slur. Tried to fasten onto the whore he’d chosen for himself. Bad move. He’d used his cigarette lighter on him – the one with the flick blade. Burnt him and cut him.
Let the other boys and girls see of course. Worth the stretch he did. Because he was bad.
Everyone had to know: he was bad.
From prison he’d worked space trawlers for a while, mainly so be could satisfy his penchant for whores