Doctor Who_ Original Sin - Andy Lane [42]
And so he sat there, the cross-hairs slaved to track the tower that Nick lived in as the satellite transited the Earth. At that range, the beam would be five or six metres wide at the surface, and hot enough to melt rock. In five minutes the rotation of the Earth and the orbit of the satellite would carry the tower over the horizon. It was long enough. Long enough to remember the humiliation, the aching pain of betrayal, the long, sleepless, tear-stained nights.
72
And even as his finger circled the edge of the button, feeling its silky smooth texture, running lightly across the incised letters of the word FIRE, something inside him screamed that this was insane.
But he pressed the button anyway.
‘Tisane?’ Provost-Major Beltempest said.
‘Bless you,’ Bernice replied.
He smiled.
‘No, you misunderstand. I was asking whether you wanted a tisane. It’s an infusion of leaves in hot water.’
‘I didn’t misunderstand at all,’ she sighed. ‘I was making a joke. A small joke. And talking of small jokes, where is the Doctor?’
Beltempest eased his elephantine body out of his oversized chair and walked over to a filing cabinet with an impressive security lock. Placing his palm against it, he said, ‘Your friend is currently held in a secure cell. I’ll deal with him in good time. First, I thought I should have a chat with you.’
‘I think I should warn you, I’m not very communicative under stress.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ he said calmly as the cabinet opened to reveal a kettle, a tea caddy and two cups.
Bernice bit back a sarcastic response and took a moment to study the provost-major as he busied himself pouring water into the cups and adding a sprinkling of dried leaves from the caddy. He made a strange figure amid the walnut panelling and lace curtains of his office. He must have been well over six feet tall, and his stomach bulged so far that it must have been years since he last saw his feet. His skin was the colour of Earth’s sky at dawn, his trunk swung back and forth as he moved and he had the sweetest, kindest eyes Bernice had ever seen.
He handed her a cup of tea and settled himself back into his seat. She sniffed the tea cautiously. Spicy, but not unpleasant.
‘How did you know who we were?’ she said. ‘I mean, how did you know that we weren’t who we said we were?’
He looked away, out of the window. ‘Your name appeared on the Arachnae’s passenger manifest,’ he said. ‘When we cross-referenced to Imperial Landsknecht records, which we always do in order to spot potential terrorists, troublemakers and deserters, your names sprang up in glowing red letters underlined in fire. Known troublemakers.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘Would you believe that a little bird told me?’
‘No.’ Bernice shook her head. ‘You were tipped off, weren’t you?’
Beltempest’s face was the picture of innocence. ‘By whom?’
‘By the person who stole the TARDIS and tried to kill us.’
73
‘That sounds like paranoia to me,’ he said, leaning forward in apparent interest. ‘What’s the TARDIS when it’s at home?’
She sighed. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘we’re getting on so well, but can I ask what’s going to happen to me?’
‘You’ll be shot,’ he said calmly, and sipped at his tisane.
‘What!’ Bernice exploded. ‘But I thought –’
Beltempest’s stare was implacable, and tinged with disdain. ‘The sentence for impersonating a Landsknecht investigator is death,’ he said, pressing a button on his desk. The door opened and a yellow-and red-splotched warbot strode in, weaponry bristling. ‘Take her to the prep centre,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, he added, ‘your death will be useful to us.’
‘What about an appeal?’ she yelled.
‘If you like,’ he said, and raised a hand to his head for a minute as if he was thinking. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a moment, ‘your appeal failed.’
The bot took her arm in a surprisingly gentle grip and led her towards the door.