Doctor Who_ Halflife - Mark Michalowski [113]
Trove staggered backwards, his hand clasped to his face as blood seeped through his fingers and dribbled down the front of his shirt and jacket. Only then did Fitz see the night beast, tearing its way out of the tree. He stepped nimbly aside, watching it stumble as it pulled its legs out, like a newborn nightmare desperate to be free of the womb. Trove staggered backwards towards it. Reflexively, Fitz raised a hand and opened his mouth to warn him, but it was too late: Trove had discovered the creature for himself.
The bounty hunter turned sharply as he collided with it and looked it straight in the eyes – before the creature took hold of his head in its claws and snapped his neck.
Suddenly, as if Trove’s murder had galvanised them into action, the Imperial Guard raised their guns as one and began firing on it. It roared once, briefly, as its body spasmed and jerked. It took a pace towards them. . . and another, raising its hands, spreading wide its claws, before sinking to its knees, its chest and face a pulpy mass of flesh and blood. And then, silently, it fell forwards, 203
collapsing on to the grass.
There was a sudden silence, an absence of movement, as though the whole world was in shock. Like someone had said ‘Shit!’ at a Christening.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ said an apologetic voice from behind Fitz. He spun to see the Doctor, tugging at the crumpled sleeves of his jacket. ‘A little trouble with the hired help. Just can’t get the staff any more.’
Calamee fell to the grass next to the still little body of Nessus and touched it gently It was still warm, but something had gone – that spark, that energy.
She lifted a tiny paw and felt it move with no resistance. He was so, so tiny and light. She never realised that a soul could be so heavy.
Sensimi, still shaking and tears now welling up in her eyes, ran to her father’s levicar, now descending to ground level. She threw herself into his frail arms and hugged him until he gasped.
‘The Trojan’s night beast came out before you,’ Fitz said to the Doctor. ‘How come?’
‘I don’t think it liked my aftershave,’ answered the Doctor drily. ‘I made a dash for the duct, just as the soldier came free of the wall. But when it got a good whiff of me it just turned and forced its way into the duct after you.’
Fitz noticed Trix, standing alone, watching Calamee cradling Nessus’s body in her arms. ‘We probably still carry Tain’s smell on us. It was enough to make the night beast in the city think twice about attacking me; it must have had the same effect for you.’
Trix caught Fitz’s eye. She looked oddly aloof and distant.
‘So who’s in charge down there now?’ he asked without turning.
The Doctor shrugged. ‘No idea – but if it’s the Trojan, we’re in trouble.’
‘And what’s with Trix?’ Fitz said as she began to walk towards them, poised and calm.
NOW FOR THE BIOSHIP said Reo, and Trix found herself walking towards the tree trunk that had disgorged Fitz, the creature and the Doctor.
Reo moved Trix’s head briefly, taking in the dead soldier, before continuing across the grass. She wanted to scream out to the Doctor and Fitz that she was in here, being held prisoner in her own body. But she’d long since passed the point of having any control. She wondered whether she’d feel anything when Reo finally deleted her.
Would it be like a dimmer switch slowly being turned down? Or would she just cut out, gone in an instant?
What are you going to do? she asked tiredly, almost past the point of caring.
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ONCE INSIDE TAIN, I WILL TAKE CONTROL OF HIM AND THEN WE WILL RETURN
HOME.
We?