Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [80]
‘How did you know?’ asked Ace.
Trasker smiled. ‘I know you almost as well as you know yourself. I’ve researched every facet of your character, delved into every nook and cranny of your past. Your loyalty to the Doctor dictated that you would try and rescue him from his predicament, and it was logical that you would eventually try and get to the man responsible for that predicament.’
She nodded at the shattered window. ‘I’ll give you credit for the way you got in. I didn’t think you’d have the guts for that.’
‘I’ll show you how much guts I’ve got,’ snarled Ace.
Trasker’s smile faded and the gun snapped back up.
Lukas prodded with his foot at the mess of papers littering the floor. ‘You really have made quite an atrocious mess.’ He sighed. ‘I’m really not sure that I can be bothered keeping you any more. You are becoming quite tiresomely expensive.’
‘You can’t just kill us,’ shouted Gatti.
‘Oh but I can!’ All playfulness had gone from Lukas’s voice now. ‘I’ve already showed the audience one grave.
Making that two graves will be simple, and filling those graves simpler still.’
Ace whipped the piton gun from Gatti’s backpack, aimed and fired. The piton materialised in Lukos’s shoulder. He crashed to the floor, howling in agony.
‘Kill her!’ he bellowed,‘kill the bitch!’
Trasker’s gun blazed. Another window shattered. Ace and Gatti tumbled behind the desk.
With a jarring chime the lift doors slid open and Gartrold Breame stepped out into the shattered office.
Trasker’s gun swung around to cover him.
‘Breame! Get out of here!’ Ace waved frantically at him.
Breame waved theatrically. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. A mystery guest star for you to identify. Familiar features hidden in a most unusual way. Can you guess who it is?’
He stepped to one side, gesturing at the open lift door.
A terrifying figure shambled into the light.
The Doctor stepped out on to the surface of Scrantek. He peered cautiously around, his eyes screwed up against the stinging grit. Tangled buildings littered the wind-ravaged landscape, curling against the lurid, brooding sky like fingers.
Amongst the buildings were spacecraft, huge rusting hulks, their innards scattered over the ash.
From below him in the vaults came the sound of battle.
Roars from creatures of every description echoed from the bottom of the staircase. This was getting messy.
The Doctor stepped out of the lee of the building and the full force of the wind hit him. He crept forward, eyes scouring the shadows for signs of pursuit. An eerie moan echoed around the ruined landscape. The wind, whistling through the shattered hulls of the thousands of ships, whirling the dust into huge billowing clouds. The Doctor could see shapes and designs that he recognised amongst the rusting corroded metal, evidence of how the Fleshsmiths had plundered the space lanes in their search for victims during years of butchery.
He staggered forward trying to find some shelter in the broken hulls of the ships. He pushed aside a curtain of flapping cables. The star cruiser was ripped and broken, circuitry scattered in ragged broken piles. The Doctor picked at complex electronic devices. Ships seemed to hold no interest for the Fleshsmiths. It was only their occupants they were interested in. Sentient beings reduced to no more than materials, a resource to be collected from the universe and used.
Ahead of him he could see the cathedral spire of the main complex – and the forge. Pulling his collar up, he stepped from the ragged shell of the starship and began to pick his way across the shattered plain. Every step of the way he kicked up clouds of ash that were whipped away by the screaming winds.
The Doctor started as a shape loomed from the choking clouds.
He relaxed. It was a monument, a scarred and crumbling stone monolith set amongst the coarse ash. He squinted through the howling winds. More towering shapes were visible through the gloom.
He stepped closer to the monument, his hand rubbing away the ash. Names were etched into the stone. Hundreds