Doctor Who_ Longest Day - Michael Collier [10]
***
There was a banging on the door.
Anstaar turned over in her bunk and slid further under the covers.
The banging continued, and suddenly she sat bolt upright. 'Vost?' She'd been uneasy about his absence. Where had he been?
'No.Vasid.'
Oh, praise the deity. The pervert on a squalid little night errand. 'Vasid, last time you tried to get in here I got you a penalty report. Try anything now and I'll fist your face open. It's nothing personal - I just find you utterly repulsive. Leave me alone.'
'I think you ought to see what's happening in the control room.'
Anstaar frowned. Vasid's natural cockiness seemed to have drained away from his voice. A trick, she thought, but said nothing.
'Just come and see.' Then she heard his footsteps fading away down the corridor, at a leaden pace.
Anstaar felt suddenly afraid. Things just weren't right. She thought back to the pink globe in the depths of the observation screen. Thought of the people who lived on it.
Thousands of people.
And three of us looking after all of them.
And one of them missing, and the other drunk.
'Corren Anstaar, champion of the universe,' she muttered, wryly, and hauled herself out of bed.
Vasid swayed slightly as he walked. He felt sick. Something was wrong -
badly wrong. There was nothing he could do -and nothing he even wanted to do any more. Everything was becoming clear.
Vost was gone. Vost wasn't in with her. He could tell. And it was nothing to do with him, therefore it - had -to-be -
Anstaar.
She'd called out Vost's name but that was just a trick. She'd known it was him, because he was the only one left. All the time he thought he'd been watching her, she'd been watching him. And Vost. Monitoring the Monitor.
He giggled to himself at his weak joke, then anger took hold of his features and squeezed. He punched the wall - holding back, hitting it only lightly as he walked. Then, after a second of hesitation, again, harder. The pain shocked through the haze in his head.
He shook his hand as if something was on it, then wiped it across his sweaty forehead and through his hair. He had to think clearly, had to know exactly what he would do next. Vost was nowhere on the base. Nowhere alive, at any rate.
Anstaar. She'd got him propped up in her cupboard. Or under the bed. For when she needed a stiff who wouldn't offend her by opening his mouth.
She hated men, he knew it. He'd seen the way she'd looked at him. She was like most women. Uptight. Too smart. He'd thought she was frigid -
wrong. She was a psycho. She'd killed Vost and she wanted more, and now there was only him left.
He pictured her looking at him. Thought of the image on his screen. Saw the disgust on her face as she watched him, marking him for death. It all made perfect, horrible sense.
His fist lashed out at the wall again, savagely. The noise of the impact echoed dully round the corridor. He sucked his knuckles, feeling them throb, and his numbed taste buds recognised the salt and iron of his own blood. He shambled off back towards the control room, wiping a tear from his eye. Sniffed loudly, walked faster. It didn't matter any more.
When Anstaar showed her face, he would show her he was too clever for her.
***
The ship seemed to hug itself almost foetally as it moved silently through space, its warp motors shining yellow, searing the void around them with their vivid glow. Its surface was dark and pockmarked, as if whatever materials m ide up its hull had melted and failed to reset before it had ventured on its voyage. An arms turret, twisted and brown, pulled itself away from the protective coil of the body of the ship, a wicked-looking point piercing the space before it like a scorpion's tail ready to sting.
Inside the ship, fetid air dank with moisture and fumes hung around the gnarled consoles and monitors. When the creatures inside spoke, their voices sounded as if they