Doctor Who_ Hope - Mark Clapham [37]
A family sits down to eat, and he watches through red lenses, following their heat signatures. This family, living in small, barely insulated accommodation on the edge of Hope, can only afford one proper meal a day. The parents work in the gas mining plants, the children scavenge in the streets and gutters. They wear full clothing indoors, to protect against the cold seeping into their ramshackle home.
These facts are of no relevance to him as he clings to the wall of their homespace, looking in through the crude window. He sees only four soft targets, the chance to fulfil rising quotas. Hand over hand, he climbs above the window, making no noise. A steel bar is bolted on to the wall, a contextless clue to whatever this homespace had been in a previous existence. A life pod? Part of a space station habitation unit? It is stripped of equipment and meaning now, rebuilt as a home by the wretches inside it. To him it means nothing he holds on to the bar with both hands, pushes himself back with his feet.
He swings forward, impacting with the window feet first, crashing straight through in a shower of glass fragments. His four targets two adults, two children have little time to react, torn between fight and flight.
He does not allow them time to decide.
Chapter Six
No More Time Outs
Miraso insisted on hard work from her staff, but wasnt a stickler for timekeeping when it came to nonrota staff. Providing the work got done, who cared? So she was used to having the administrative sections of the Palace to herself in the early morning, the accountants and auditors and administrators usually rolling in some time later.
So she was surprised to come in that morning to find Anji already there, piles of ledgers and other paperwork teetering around her. The human had somehow managed to get the terminal on the desk working, and had laid out a few simple spreadsheets.
Got everything you need? asked Miraso. It was intended to be sarcasm.
Not quite, said Anji. I really need a more thorough tour of Silvers resources to make any clear judgements on how his investments can be expanded. She paused. Thats if you still want the job done.
Miraso nodded. Once were up and running this morning, Ill get one of the guys to show you around.
Excellent, said Anji. Thatll be really helpful.
Powlin found the Doctors refusal to carry a weapon unusual, with several possible implications. The most impressive was that the Doctor didnt need a gun, that his offensive capabilities were physical and mental. A gun could be taken away, or could jam. There was no substitute for being able to defend and attack when no obvious weapon presented itself. Powlin, for his part, clutched his gun with his back to the wall, looking across at the Doctor, who was adopting a similar, albeit unarmed, posture on the other side of the door.
They were about to burst into a crude living unit bolted on to one of the towers on Hopes eastern perimeter. Neighbours had reported a brief but loud disturbance the previous night, and the two adults living there had failed to turn up for work that morning. These two facts, alongside the isolated location of the living unit, suggested a possible link to their case, and the Doctor had insisted they follow it up. Powlin was rather more worried there was something more obvious going down a drug deal, a home invasion or suchlike. So he kept his gun to hand, just in case, and tried to block out the witterings of the street kids hanging around nearby, ragshrouded scavengers who were drawn to possible misfortune like flies to carrion.
Powlin swung around to face the door, and fired a light impact explosive charge directly at the lock. Fragments of rusty metal flew out in all directions as a section of the door was blasted to pieces, and Powlin gave the door a solid kick, keeping his gun raised.
He neednt have been so cautious the Doctors instincts had been right. Four bodies lay prone on the floor, furniture