Doctor Who_ Original Sin - Andy Lane [71]
‘We were so proud of him,’ a voice said from beside her. She turned. The elderly man was standing beside her. His face was deeply lined, and close up she could see that most of the left side of his face was artificial, but his eyes were as bright and as blue as Cwej’s. ‘I’m Christopher’s father,’ he added. ‘His mother and I were there when he graduated. Pleased as punch. Pleased as punch. First time I’d been back to Ponten for seventy years, of course. Old place hadn’t changed much. Reminded me of my own graduation, back in oh-five. I swear some of the lecturers were the same.’
‘Roz Forrester,’ she said, still ill at ease. ‘You were an Adjudicator too?’
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‘Proud to meet you,’ he said. ‘Any partner of our son is a friend of ours. Yes, I was an Adjudicator, up till four years ago. It’s a family tradition.’
Now that she knew, she could see it in his eyes: that searching, questioning, devil-may-care expression that could all too easily turn into world-weariness.
As hers had.
‘My father, and his father before him,’ Cwej senior added. ‘Back as far as we care to look. There was a Cwej on the founding panel of Adjudicators, back when they were more like galactic sheriffs. Forrester. Now there’s a familiar name. Could I have served with your dad?’
She shook her head.
‘My father didn’t – well, let’s say I don’t think you’d have met him.’
‘No, I remember what it was,’ he said, grinning. ‘You were squired to Fenn Martle, weren’t you?’
A fist tightened around Forrester’s heart.
‘Yes,’ Cwej’s father continued, oblivious to her expression, ‘he squired me for his first few years on the job. Good lad. Very promising. Whatever happened to him?’
Forrester bit her lip to stop herself saying something she might regret. This was going to be a long day.
The rising sun shone through the window of the darkened office, casting the shadow of the figure across the translucent desk. Information flickered in the depths of the desk – financial, economic, military – but the figure did not react.
Like a spider, the figure waited patiently for those faint, tell-tale vibrations of the web.
As the sun rose, its rosy glow slowly edged across the desk and onto the carpet, casting light into the shadowed recesses of the room. As the figure waited, the sunlight crept, inch by patient inch, further across the office, until it lapped against the foot of a large box.
A large, blue box.
The splash of bright colour attracted the figure’s attention.
‘I’ll enjoy taking you apart, circuit by circuit,’ it murmured.
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Chapter 9
‘I’m Shythe Shahid and this is The Empire Today , on the spot, on and off the Earth. Today’s headlines: Evan Claple, anchorman for The Empire Today , died last night in an incident at his home. Initial reports suggest that his long time partner, Cherri O’Halloran, has been taken into custody by the Order of Adjudicators. Also, as the Asian Undertown riots spill over into a new day, questions are asked at the Imperial Court. All this, and the latest news on the fighting on Murtaugh and Heaven, after this important message . . . ’
‘For Rassilon’s sake!’ the Doctor yelled as the Imperial Landsknecht scout vessel Moorglade emerged from hyperspace into a blazing inferno. ‘You’ve put us in the centre of a star!’ He clapped his hands over his eyes, shielding them from the glare of the bloated sun which filled the forward screens and washed out the stars and the