Doctor Who_ Longest Day - Michael Collier [55]
Sam was being held some way away from them. They were facing her, staring at her as though she was some exhibit, a freak. Suspicious, mistrustful. Behind her, Sangton stood next to Fettal, the old man now leaning on a walking stick that looked as if it had been crafted from ebony or machonite. Very suave. Evil little Hitler.
To her right, and scaring her rigid, were Tanhith and Yast. Yast was holding his ankle where the laser bolt had taken half of it off, still whimpering to himself and rocking like a baby. Tanhith had been badly beaten. He'd been stripped hah' naked and his chest was a mass of bruises, and small bloody welts peppered his eyelids where most of his eyelashes had been yanked out. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, the flow increasing every time he coughed.
Over to the left, Traxes stood with the grey-suited troops, arms folded, expectant. A small smirk played about his chubby features, and Sam's blood ran cold despite the overwhelming heat.
'Now,' began Sangton in his crisp, refined voice, stepping forward a little painfully and addressing the injured camp dwellers,'you've had a small taste of the terrible injustices we can inflict on a person -' he smiled a jackal's smile - 'but really, as I'm sure you're aware, that's nothing. Is it, my dear?' He patted Fettal's backside, and seemed vaguely disappointed by the lack of any response.'So listen to me. Some would have me believe that this -' he gestured distastefully at her - 'is Felbaac, inspired rebel genius of the Outer Worlds.'
He lashed out at the back of her knees with his walking stick and Sam found herself falling involuntarily to the ground, the impact stinging her hands as she instinctively put them out in front of her. There was no noise, no reaction, and she heard Sangton bark, 'At ease, men, you are at liberty to laugh.' The guards looked at each other uncertainly, but Traxes raised his voice and managed quite a good guffaw.
'Very amusing,' muttered Sam, rising to her feet and turning to face Sangton.'But you're just too funny really. I mean -' she looked him up and down, as if assessing a potential pull - 'just look at yourself.'
She smirked at him cheekily, and Fettal grabbed a length of her hair and yanked back her head. Sangton walked stiffly over to her and dug his index finger into the front of her throat. Her blue eyes bulged slightly, and she heard what she assumed was Tanhith struggling somewhat uselessly to his feet and getting knocked down again.
Sangton's dry, low voice jolted her back to her predicament. 'Spirited, certainly. Oh, yes, very spirited, fine qualities in a hopeless rebel.' He took his finger away and she found she could swallow again, although it felt as if a half-brick was lodged in her throat.
She noticed that some of the guards had put their helmets back on, perhaps protecting themselves from the sun. It reflected in their face visors like a fat red eye, transforming them into evil mute Cyclops watching her every move. She wished she was wearing magic red slippers instead of her battered Converses, or could hear the sound of the materialising TARDIS
cutting through the hot heavy air like cavalry trumpets. But there was nothing but silence as Sangton moved around her to stand next to Yast and Tanhith as he addressed the injured men of the camp.
'I know Felbaac is among you. This is his associate and these two - Mr Tanhith and his well-dressed associate - are known rebel accomplices.' He rapped his stick down on Yast's injured ankle, and paused with a small smile as the cry of pain rang out.'Now. I'm a fair man. We of the House of Beckal are notoriously generous of spirit, despite what