Doctor Who_ St. Anthony's Fire - Mark Gatiss [19]
Imalgahite held up a claw. ‘We are aware of our planetary phenomena, Professorbernicesummerfield.’
‘It’s three words,’ said Bernice, smiling in spite of herself. ‘Just Bernice will do.’
‘As you wish. But you say you came here to look at our… er… rings. Came from where? From the jungles? From Porsim?’
Bernice folded her arms. ‘What’s Porsim?’
‘You don’t know?’
Utreh leant towards his leader conspiratorially and grinned. ‘She is only an ape, sir.’
‘I am not an ape!’ shouted Bernice, her wide eyes blazing in fury. ‘And if you must know, I came here from another planet, not too far away from here, called Massatoris, and before that…’
She felt her anger receding. ‘Well… before that, it’s a little difficult to explain.’
Imalgahite eyed her a little more warily. ‘My dear Bernice. I have no doubt that you are very clever and imaginative, for a mammal, but the idea of life on other planets is patently ridiculous. You’ll have to come up with something better if I’m not to have you shot.’
Bernice sat up straight in alarm. ‘Shot?’
‘Oh yes. You could easily be an Ismetch spy. We are at war. Or didn’t you know that either?’
She sank miserably into her chair and rolled her stiff neck around, gazing at the low ceiling. ‘There seems to be a lot I don’t know.’
* * *
Liso was staring into space, the recently slammed‐down speecher humming on the table beside him. A couple of engineers, who had been poring over maps, stared at him, having witnessed an extremely vocal argument the Portrone had just had with Grek upon his return to the dugout.
Liso scowled at them. ‘Get on with your work.’
They sank back into the shadows as though trying to make a smaller target for their superior’s wrath.
‘Damn you, Grek,’ hissed Liso under his breath, drumming his claws on the table.
The conference room was the largest in the base, built into a natural cavern in the rocks. Three of its walls glistened with moisture, the fourth was made up of familiar wooden struts.
Half a dozen long tables, their surfaces plastered with maps, log‐books and measuring equipment, took up most of the space. This far from the entrance the incessant rain and shell‐bursts formed a distant background annoyance, like the tick of a clock Liso had long since learned to ignore.
His one good eye seemed feverishly active next to the calm black socket of the other. He had insisted upon seeing Grek in person. Something had to be done about that thing.
Grek marched into the conference room looking infinitely more confident than he felt. Liso was already on his feet and saluting.
‘I thought I made my instructions clear on the speecher, Portrone,’ said Grek.
‘Yes, sir. But I don’t see…’
‘I don’t want it shot. Not yet.’
Liso put his claws behind his back in his familiar way. ‘It’s an abomination, sir. What’s the good of keeping it alive?’
Grek smiled. ‘It interests me, Liso. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before and I find my curiosity has been… aroused. I was a scientist once, remember?’
Liso remembered. It was at the military college in Porsim that they’d first met. Grek had been everyone’s hero then.
The younger man put his memories aside and cleared his throat. ‘There’s nothing you can learn from it, surely sir? And I can think of less important times to start keeping pets.’
Grek looked around at the clusters of men, studying their maps with an intensity only his presence could explain. ‘Where is it now, Liso?’
Liso sighed. ‘In the cell next to the infirmary.’
‘Sir,’ said Grek quietly.
Liso stood up a little straighter. ‘Sir!’
Grek was silent for a moment. ‘Well.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘I think I’ll go and see it.’
Liso frowned. ‘Is that wise, sir? You know they can turn on you without warning.’
‘Oh, I think I’ll manage, Mister Liso, I think I’ll manage. Carry on.’
Liso snapped to attention as Grek left the room but his shoulders relaxed almost immediately. The flames of the gas jets glittered in his solitary eye.
* * *
Grek strode along the corridor, his too‐tight boots fixing a pained smile