Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book One - Lawrence Miles [24]
‘Fmf rfm’s sdfshl dn,’ the floating head said.
The man had spoken. Badar was surprised by that. The guards always shouted, so he had to listen very, very carefully to make out what the man was saying.
‘What?’ Badar said. That was his intention, anyway. But he wasn’t sure whether his voice was working.
‘I said, the sun’s coming up.’
There was silence after that. Badar didn’t know how long it lasted. He remembered drifting back to sleep at least twice.
The next thing he knew, he was staring at the ceiling again. The lumpy head was floating over him, although he had difficulty telling whether it was attached to a body, or whether it really was the severed head of the old prisoner. He caught sight of eyes in the head, big blue smudges against the pale skin.
‘What did they do to you?’ the head asked.
‘Hurt,’ Badar said.
The head bobbed up and down. ‘There’s no scarring, if that’s any consolation. Electric‐shock weaponry, I’d guess. There are a few bruises around your hands and feet. Cuffs?’
Badar fell asleep. A while later, he woke up, and remembered what the voice had asked him.
‘Yes,’ he said.
The head seemed satisfied. It floated away, faster than Badar could follow. There were the sounds of footsteps on the brick floor of the cell.
‘I see they’ve given us a room with a view,’ the man said. ‘It looks like there’s some kind of courtyard out there.’
‘Execution,’ Badar croaked.
‘Execution?’ There was a long pause from the other side of the cell. ‘Yes. I see. A place of execution. That kind of view. Well, so much for civilisation. How long have you been here?’
The question made no sense to Badar at all, so he ignored it.
There were more footsteps after that. By now, Badar was sure enough of the shape of the cell to judge that the man was walking over to the door. There was a hollow tapping sound. ‘Basic lock,’ the man muttered. ‘Crude, but heavy going. Do you know how many guards there are?’
‘Four,’ Badar told him.
‘Only four?’ The man sounded surprised.
‘Four. Their faces…’
‘Yes?’
‘They keep changing.’
‘I see.’ More tapping. ‘Never mind. I’m sure we can cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, let’s see what we can do with the lock.’
Do? With the lock? What was that supposed to mean?
‘Open?’ said Badar.
‘Sorry?’
‘You can… open? The lock? Door?’
‘Oh, I should think so.’ There was a patting sound, something Badar couldn’t identify. He turned his head, and this time the room didn’t lurch quite so much.
The man was standing by the door. Badar could see his silhouette, although parts of his body were still blotted out by the blood cells. There was a lot of green. Green clothes. And the man was running a hand over them, searching the pockets.
Badar looked at the man’s other hand. It was hanging limply against his body.
‘Hurt?’ Badar asked.
The man stopped patting himself. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Hurt? You?’ Badar tried to remember the words that joined the ideas together. ‘They‐hurt‐you?’
The man cleared his throat. Did he sound… embarrassed? Was that it? ‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m used to this sort of thing.’ He turned back to face the door. ‘Now. It looks like the guards have cleaned me out. Not even a safety pin to my name. We’ll just have to think of something else, then.’
‘Arm broken,’ Badar told the man.
The man looked down at his right arm. ‘Just a snapped ulna,’ he said. ‘Nothing to worry about. My people are really rather good when it comes to healing.’
‘Your skin,’ Badar pointed out. ‘Not my race.’
The man cleared his throat again. ‘It’s not all a question of skin tone. I do have a certain… biological advantage… when it comes to torture.’
Badar stared at him. Waiting for him to explain.
‘It’s not important,’ the man said.
Badar kept staring.
‘Two hearts,’ the other prisoner mumbled.
Badar had nothing to say about that. So he went back to sleep.
* * *
Noon
When Badar woke