Doctor Who_ Longest Day - Michael Collier [82]
Patronising git. Sam imagined him looking at Yast for support, wondered if the little man would speak up. Nothing. Her eyes felt like pin cushions, and she realised jealously there were advantages to having thick long eyelashes beyond the merely cosmetic.
Felbaac was continuing: 'So I simply arranged for a few K'Arme supporters to have a taste of their own medicine. Some of my men took a group of them hostage to take your places. No one will ever even know you left until we choose to strike!'
There was silence. Sam tried to take in this latest act of ruthlessness, while Yast chipped in, 'But they'll die here anyway, won't they? There's nothing left, not enough food, water, supplies -'
'How was I to know that?'
'And you really think anyone cares enough about this dump to check whether they're still alive?'
'We were serious offenders, Yast,' came Crichter's voice, protestingly. Sam shook her head in sad disbelief at Crichter's ego, smarting even at a time like this.
'So you're going to leave those people to die here?'
'Them or us, Yast. It's not our problem, is it?' said Felbaac dismissively.
'Anyway, there isn't room for us all. Would you rather I took miserable Inner Worlders with me instead of you?'
Just when she had thought Felbaac couldn't fall any further in her estimation he had proved her wrong. Sam could finally focus a bit more clearly, although blinking was agony. She tried to stay calm, breathing deeply, waiting for her vision to improve as she squinted into the dry, bright sunlight. She heard the whirring of the protesting mechanism stop with a clang, and reasoned that perhaps it was a door opening. What should she do? What could she do? Help the people on board fight back against the prisoners? Try to get everyone to live in peace? Nothing seemed feasible, or even desirable. Sam cursed Felbaac for turning her life into little more than a cosmic game of Scruples.
She heard footsteps clanging up the metal steps, saw a watery vision of what was presumably Felbaac and Yast going inside the spaceship. She wondered if anyone had seen her, if Tanhith was all right in the aftermath of the landing. There was an expectant hush about the men, standing in the eerie silence that had followed the terrible noise of the landing. Sam realised her ears were ringing. God, I'm a mess, she thought. Please, get me out of here.
With her eyes finally clearing, Sam could see she was looking at a fair-sized cargo thruster. But it looked so old, as they had said. The metal was scorched and pockmarked, the markings on the side of the ship faded and scratched. It seemed a museum piece. She straightened up as the shouting got louder, looking about for Tanhith and noting with relief he was still breathing strongly under the shade of a stolen tunic draped over two sticks. Then a muffled shout of anger came from somewhere inside the ship.
It was Felbaac's voice, and he sounded furious as he suddenly emerged back into the light. He was pulling something behind him, and Sam gasped as she realised it was an old man, protesting weakly at the rough treatment he was receiving. Felbaac threw the frail figure off the side of the ramp to the dusty floor below.
'Answer me!' he raged. 'How the hell did you get on board and what have you done with my pilot?'
The old man looked up at Felbaac, the harsh sunlight blinding him, but said nothing. Sam pushed her way forward to help him, and took his head into her hands.
'You again!' cried Felbaac in exasperation.'Leave him alone. I want answers.'
'You want a smack,' Sam snapped back. 'Look at the state of him.'
Felbaac glared at her.'Then perhaps you'd like to ask him, you little freak, why the men, women and children I had circling in orbit waiting for this moment have become gibbering idiots like him or else so many old bones?'
Yast came out behind