Doctor Who_ Longest Day - Michael Collier [42]
Behind the old man came a young man and a woman. The man was short and skinny, his face and skin youthful and smooth. He had a wispy moustache that hung down over his thin lips to his pointed chin. His eyes were cold and glassy, and looked out of place in the young face. They were an old man's eyes.
The woman had straight dark hair that was cut above the ears. She should've been beautiful, but there was something about her face that made you look more closely, trying to see what had gone wrong and where. Her eyes were blue, her skin littered with freckles of grey. Her narrow nose turned upward, her lips turned down, and she had no eyelashes -just a fine grey down that stretched over the eyes like a fragile gauze.
Their leader came to a stop at the bottom of the steps. His younger companions stood one at each shoulder.
'Traxes,' the old man murmured, his voice deep and well defined,'that was a dreadful landing.'
'Pilot reports inconsistencies in the safe-path coordinates, Commissioner.'
'Does he indeed?' The commissioner steepled his fingers. 'Break out the land transport.'
The man saluted and disappeared back into the ship, moving with a speed that dismayed the old man.'I won't last long on foot in this climate,' he chuckled thinly. The woman looked down at the ground, embarrassed at his admission. He noticed, smiled wryly, and continued:
'Fettal, I'd like you to take five men and circle round. Close in on the encampment from behind.' Fettal nodded smartly. 'Traxes will approach from the front. The direct approach to diplomacy, eh, my dear?' He saw her trying not to squirm. It amused him to make such comments to a woman who was trying so hard to be a man, and these days he was giving in to such little indulgences more readily. 'Oh, and Fettal...'
She looked at him steadily.'Yes, Commissioner?'
'Leave me two men to guard my person. The two best men, please.'
'Of course, Commissioner.'
'Of course,' he said, nodding sagely in return. 'I'm going to wait in the shade, now. Arrange it.'
He felt Fettal's eyes follow him as he walked into the shadow of his big black ship, and made a big display of wiping the sweat from his brow with his ceremonial cloak. He knew it would upset her. Being young, she took it all so seriously. The Code of the K'Arme. The secrecy and the sanctity of the Honourable Houses.
All nonsense and myth, of course - a lot of it perpetuated by himself, he noted, briefly reminiscing on times past. Yet here he was in no official capacity to safeguard its reputation. He glanced down. The colours and symbols emblazoned on his tunic spelled out his name and rank for all to see and fear: Most High Commissioner Sangton of the House of Beckal.
He'd given up on all that rubbish, just as it was ready to give up on him. But the thought of the rebellion's latest figurehead posting the information he claimed to have on the government infonet - the frauds, the abuses of power that he had happily undertaken most of his long life known to all...
The scant information the Outer scum had fenced already was entirely accurate, and he chided himself for becoming less careful with his advancing years. He would be able to evade court martial, he had no doubt, but the damage done to his House would make him a pariah. The young took it all so seriously.
Well, he'd stand down soon enough, make way for the new blood.Just give him this final head on his wall, and that would be that. The suitably bloody end to a suitably long and bloody career. If Felbaac thought he could lure a Most High Commissioner here to make concessions, to barter for an easy life, or even in the vain hope of trapping him here, he and his sorry bunch of forgotten men would regret it.
Sangton looked up into the fleshy-pink sky. 'Looks like we've landed in the middle of the day. Good.' He looked over at the guard next to him. 'I should hate for us to disturb their peaceful slumber.'
Another huge silent ramp started to open under the Yast metal wing of the ship, and the land transport carriers began trundling down.