Doctor Who_ Halflife - Mark Michalowski [109]
The duct opened up – the cat’s bottom analogy seemed unpleasantly accu-rate all of sudden – and the Doctor watched as Fitz threw himself headlong into it, the creature’s talons slicing through the legs of Fitz’s trousers as his feet vanished into the wall and the sphincter closed behind them.
Inside the duct, Fitz belatedly felt a stinging in his calf, and realised that the Trojan’s soldier had caught him. But he was squeezed tightly inside, the soft walls pressing in on him on all sides. He felt the pressure tighten around his feet, slowly pushing him upwards like a. . . he didn’t want to think about it.
Never mind a cat’s bottom, he thought: this is more like being sick.
Trix was trying to get a grip on what was happening. For some reason, her head felt all muggy, all cluttered up. Ever since she and the Imperator had left the Palace in one of the remaining levicars, she’d felt odd. Like she was coming down with a mother of a head cold.
She’d stood by while the Imperator had laid his son out on the floor, limbs twitching like he was having a minor epileptic fit. She knew she could be a bit of a hard case, but even as Tannalis had sobbed and hugged and pleaded with his son to wake up, all she could do was stand there and watch, feeling vaguely impatient with him. It was as though this cold, or whatever she’d caught, was smothering her, dampening down her emotions. She noticed one of her arms trembling uncontrollably, and felt her skin burning up. What was wrong with her?
Tannalis told her to fetch help, and tiredly, she’d gone out into the corridor and called for someone. Within minutes, a couple of the Palace staff had come running, and had helped the Imperator to get Javill into bed, where he trembled and drooled and mumbled.
‘This is Trove’s doing, isn’t it?’ the Imperator finally said. ‘He’s done something to my son, to his mind.’
Trix found herself nodding.
‘The bastard,’ hissed the Imperator. He wiped his nose and eyes with the sleeve of his pyjamas. ‘He’s going to pay, Trix, he’s going to pay for this.’
197
‘Good,’ Trix said tersely. ‘Let’s go and find him.’
The Imperator nodded.
Bewford, the Imperator’s Chief of Staff – a slender, bespectacled, harassed man – arrived a few moments later.
‘What’s happened, sir?’ he asked in horror, as though this were all his fault.
‘Trove,’ Tannalis growled through his tears. ‘He’s what’s happened. Tell the garage to have one of the levicars ready. Him and that witch-wife aren’t getting away with this.’
‘But what about the electrical storm, sir?’
‘Storm? What storm?’
Bewford looked confused. ‘The Imperatrix told me that she’d. . . ’ His voice tailed off as they all realised that Alinti hadn’t told the Imperator about the storm at all. While Tannalis ranted at Bewford, Trix found herself drifting away from the conversation, her mind consumed with a desire to see this electrical storm. Maybe even to track it to its source. Where was all this coming from? She shivered, rubbing her arms. ‘We need to find Trove, to punish him,’ Trix found herself saying as Bewford nodded and rushed away.
And so they’d left the Imperator’s son and followed Trove and Alinti. While the Imperator had been crying over his son, Trix had found a smaller version of Trove’s communications console – a small remote control device that, she realised, could be used to track the surveillance camera watching Sensimi and the other girl.
Trix had surprised herself by being a much more expert levicar driver than she’d expected – especially when, just outside the city walls, they’d encountered a huge, curving wall of smoke, creeping towards them. Instinctively, somehow, Trix had known that they should try to avoid it – so she’d driven the levicar up on to the city walls and launched it into the air from there.
Her skin had prickled mildly