Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [22]
Shuffling backwards along the floor, Anji moved Fitz away from his attacker as carefully as she could. She took occasional furtive glances at the man, who was screaming gibberish at Silver, ranting about abominations and blasphemies and God alone knew what else. Anji wasnt interested. She needed to move Fitz out of the way, get them both back. Because when this Silver character reacted to these slurs on his character, Anji didnt want herself or her friend to be anywhere near either party.
She suspected it wasnt going to be a pleasant conversation.
A war in a neighbouring country can be ignored by millions. A dozen star systems could flare up and die, and the slow passage of light from the stellar inferno would take millennia to reach other inhabited worlds. But in the right context, a gesture can bring silence, can change the flow of events of everyone around.
A butterfly can flap its wings, an earthquake occurs elsewhere. But which is noticed?
A stand off. Members of the Brotherhood wield weapons, their leader rages, lives hang in the balance. A girl from millennia before nurses her friend, the only two members of their species in the room. Their descendants, used to violence as they are, still stand uneasy, waiting to act. A man with no past watches, waits to see what will happen, prepared to risk all to protect the lives of those whom he does not know.
Fingers caress triggers uneasily, muscles are tensed. A room full of people prepares for violence.
Then Silver raises his hand. His great steel fist opens out in a gesture for silence, and everyone in the room obeys.
What do you want here? asked Silver, his deep bass voice reverberating around the room. Anji felt an itching at the bottom of her spine. Even though the question wasnt aimed at her, Silvers voice was commanding enough to make her feel compelled to obey. It was a nauseating feeling, this urge to comply regardless of free will.
We are the Brotherhood of the Silver Fist, said Fitzs assailant, his synthetic voice lapsing into hysteria. We follow the true path of logic, the digital way, and we come to purge you from existence.
Really? said Silver, unimpressed. Leave now. While you can.
Not with you alive, came the reply, and the brother pulled a gun from within his robes, raising it towards Silver.
He pulled the trigger, and a ball of plasma streaked across the room, impacting with the staircase and reducing the handrails to twisted metal.
But Silver wasnt there. He had jumped, defying gravity and his own unwieldy appearance. He flew over the crowded room with surprising grace, flipping over in midair, perfectly balanced. His attacker desperately raised his gun, firing off another couple of shots as Silver hurtled towards him, but they went wide. Silver raised his fist, bringing it down towards his enemys head as he came in to land. The result was a piledriver blow, his fist coming straight down into his opponents face and pushing his whole body back, Silver putting his entire weight behind his fist so that he landed in a crouch, hands hitting the floor. His attackers head was trapped between one very heavy fist and one very hard floor.
Anji ducked and covered her head, only to feel something hot and wet spray across the back of it, hear a vile crunching as the impact rocked the room. She looked up again to see Silver in a crouch, the thick knuckles of his steel fist resting against the ground, blood and bone splattered across them. With great dignity he pulled himself into a standing position, surveying the crowd, as if challenging the dead mans allies to step forward.
Who next? growled Silver, and all hell broke loose.
Across the room, the hostagetakers