Doctor Who_ Halflife - Mark Michalowski [82]
147
Chapter 17
‘I don’t suppose you have access to a thermic lance, do you?’
Even Trix was surprised at the ease with which Princess Sensimi’s ID card allowed her access to the Palace. She’d found that the best way to cope with the stares and the mutters from the crowd was to ignore them, and so far, it seemed to have worked rather well. Suspiciously so, in fact. As she’d pushed her way through the crowds around the jousting arena, her excuse me s and can I just get past s had become fewer and fewer until she’d found herself just shouldering her way through with gritted teeth. The heat was getting to her, though, and she felt the skin on her face tingle and itch. She wondered if one of this ghastly planet’s insects had bitten her – her lips felt slightly swollen, although there was no pain. And after a while, it was as though no one could see her skin colour at all. She’d finally made her way to one of the bored-looking guards at the front of the Palace, had presented the princess’s ID card and had explained that she was expected. Without blinking an eyelid, he’d directed her to a side entrance where, upon flashing the card again, she’d been escorted through three sets of doors, into a lift, and up into a dimly lit corridor that simply reeked of high-class hotel. She could feel her shoes squelching as she padded down the carpeted corridor, and she cast covetous glances at the paintings – most of them depicting people that she imagined were members of the Imperial Family, Sensimi included. Too big to fit in her bag though.
‘This is Her Royal Highness’s suite,’ said the bowing and scraping little man who’d accompanied her, before scuttling away. What was it with these people?
Didn’t they know what a snotty little cow Sensimi really was? Trix touched her face again, realising that the tingling and swelling seemed to have gone down. The door was ajar, a light on inside. She knocked gently and pushed it open.
The room was empty. Decorated in the same bland but vaguely tasteless way that the rest of the Palace seemed to have been done in, it was clearly the room of a teenage girl – a rather anal teenage girl, perhaps (all the clothes were folded neatly in piles, or else hung in the capacious wardrobes – she couldn’t resist a peek).
As she straightened up from checking out one of the chests of drawers, she 149
heard a tentative little peep from behind her, and turned sharply to see – well, it looked like a tiny, slightly ginger monkey – as if she hadn’t had her fill of monkeys and apes recently. It resembled a baby orang-utan, only with shorter fur and a much flatter face, was sitting on the bed, its legs splayed, scratching itself in a most unpleasant manner. The worst thing about it, though, was the fact that it was dressed up in a grubby white frock, all lace and bits of sparkle.
Yellow stains dotted the front of it.
‘Erm,’ said Trix tentatively, remembering that she was on an alien planet, and that this might well be the most intelligent creature she’d come across today. ‘Hello – I’m Trix.’
The thing looked up at her and squeaked, showing tiny yellow teeth.
‘I’m looking for Princess Sensimi.’
It just stared, and resumed its intimate scratching.
Right, thought Trix. Probably not intelligent then. Maybe about Fitz-level with the scratching. Trix saw a host of photographs fastened inexpertly to the wall above the bed – many of them were of Sensimi, either alone or clutching the creature to her. For a moment, Trix forgot what a little cow Sensimi had been. These were the photos of a rather sad, rather friendless girl: where were the boyfriends, the girlfriends? The just friends? One of them showed the monkey-thing sitting ungraciously next to a large, pink cake iced with the words ‘Looloo’s First Birthday’. Looloo? Looloo for God’s sake! It made Trix want to shout! It was hard, though, to forget the stony-faced little madam who’d dragged Fitz away and left her stranded in the city. Maybe she’d been hoping that Fitz could be her new best friend. Trix shuddered.
Suddenly,