Doctor Who_ Original Sin - Andy Lane [50]
Mathematics had never been Dweller In Sorrow’s strong point, but she had a terrible feeling that they were trapped in an infinite regression of petty offi-cialdom.
‘. . . an empire whose benign and controlling hand extends to friend and foe alike,’ the baron pressed on, regardless of the increasing restlessness of the petty nobles in the welcoming party, not to mention the two Hith dignitaries.
‘To human and alien, to those who, in their turn, reach out to grasp its tender embrace and to those who spurn its overtures. And yet, were that effort to be accomplished by one effort in one generation, it would require more than . . . ’
‘What’s that shuttle pilot doing?’ Avenging Injustice murmured, extending 86
an eyestalk to where the spacecraft that had taken off moments ago was turning and heading back towards them.
‘I don’t know and I don’t care!’ snapped Dweller In Sorrow. ‘I just want to get to a decent hotel and dive into a pool of hot mucus.’
The craft was getting nearer now, weaving erratically through the sky towards them. A number of the Landsknechte had noticed it too, and Dweller In Sorrow watched in disbelief as they reached for their weapons. What was this: an assassination attempt? And if so, against whom?
Baron Heddolli’s voice was almost drowned out by the roar of the ship’s jets now. Irritated, he turned around, still talking. Dweller In Sorrow didn’t know much about human body language, but even from behind she could spot the shock, outrage and fear that passed through the baron’s plump frame.
Around him, the glue of tradition and custom that was holding the various minor peers and dignitaries together suddenly failed. The crowd scattered in every direction.
The shuttle was close enough that Dweller In Sorrow could see the human pilot – the woman that had brought them down from their orbiting ship. There was no expression on her face.
‘Diplomacy or no diplomacy,’ shouted Avenging Injustice over the roar of the engines, ‘I think that we should get out of the way!’ Extending a pseudo-limb, he dragged Dweller In Sorrow to one side.
He was only just in time. The shuttle ploughed into the ground some ten feet in front of the baron’s podium. Tentacles of flame spread out across the spaceport, carrying with them the sweet smell of protonic fuel rods.
Dweller In Sorrow almost caused a diplomatic incident by laughing out loud, but managed to stifle her reaction before anybody saw her. After all, who would believe that the baron had still been reciting his speech when he fried?
The bot walked towards Powerless Friendless with small, precise steps. Rain-drops trickled down its metal sides, pooling in its joints and waterfalling to the wooden slats of the walkway as it moved. There was something about its stance and the light that glowed in its visual sensors that made it look as if it knew something that Powerless Friendless didn’t. Which, Powerless Friendless reflected, was almost certainly true.
Powerless Friendless glanced quickly round. The walkway behind him was empty. The question was, if he made a slither for it, could the bot catch him?
He wasn’t sure. It was heavy. Probably couldn’t keep up with him.
‘Please don’t be foolish,’ the bot said. ‘You may indeed be able to outpace me over a short distance, but I never tire, and I know