Doctor Who_ Storm Harvest - Mike Tucker [42]
‘Yes, very sensitive, Phillip. Very diplomatic. Get on with it.
‘It’s simple,’ Garrett smirked. ‘She climbed on to the fire escape and got into the building. Then when she was inside, she went on a rampage. Did a lot of damage...’
‘Did you see the door to that storeroom?’ Ace was angry ‘It was smashed to pieces! D’you think I did that?’
‘... and then made up this cock-and-bull story to cover herself,’
Garrett concluded.
‘I’m not sure,’ Brenda mused. ‘You remember the girl – the maintenance engineer – who swore she’d seen a monster in the service tunnels?’
‘Oh Brenda, come on...’ Garrett protested.
‘I’ve seen it myself, remember, Phillip,’ she snapped. ‘I’m increasing security all around the square. As of now. And get to bed, 79
Phillip – you look terrible.’
With a stiff smile Garrett left the room.
‘And you, young woman, make yourself scarce.’
‘No problem,’ said Ace surlily, turning to go.
‘How is the Doctor?’ Brenda asked suddenly.
‘Busy,’ said Ace. ‘He’ll be in touch when he needs something –
don’t worry.’
The Doctor awoke to feel the sun on his face and the bobbing deck of the Zodiac beneath his back. He drew in a long, slow breath and slowly opened his eyes.
‘My God!’ Q’ilp yelled, scuttling across the deck on his robot spider-legs. ‘I thought you were dead!’
‘Respiratory bypass system,’ the Doctor whispered. His chest and throat felt bruised and sore. ‘Useful in a tight squeeze. What happened down there?’
‘You blacked out,’ said Q’ilp. ‘I had to pull you up. Getting to be a habit.’
‘Thank you again,’ the Doctor said. ‘I wouldn’t have lasted long down there.’ His mind raced back to the temple. ‘The weapon,’ he rasped. ‘What happened to the weapon?’
Q’ilp extended a metal tentacle and slid the bulky cylinder across the deck.
‘I had to go back for it,’ said Q’ilp. ‘Tricky business. ‘D’you know how difficult it was getting you and that thing up on to the boat?’
The Doctor stooped over the ancient weapon and began examining it intently. ‘Who knows?’ he mused. ‘You might have saved the entire colony.’
‘Commander, we are receiving a communication from the target planet.
Bisoncawl marched forward. Bavril leapt aside to avoid him.
‘There’s a lot of interference,’ the communications operator said timidly. Scratcher. Bavril’s mate, and the unluckiest man on the ship.
Communications operators always got it in the neck.
‘Bisoncawl,’ the commander growled into the communicator.
‘I’ve located Vreik,’ the communicator hissed. ‘He’s dead. Some humans discovered his body.’
‘Did he find the weapon?’ Mottrack pushed his number two roughly to one side.
‘It wasn’t recovered with him, the voice on the communicator said.
‘General, the Doctor – the offworld investigator whose presence I reported – he found Vreik. He’s asking a lot of questions. He says he’s 80
from InterOceanic, but I don’t believe him. He might know more than he’s letting on.’
‘Then deal with him,’ Mottrack barked.
‘He’s suspicious, the voice crackled. ‘And he’s making the authorities suspicious. I’m in danger of being exposed.’
‘Then you must conclude your preparations without delay,’ said Mottrack. ‘When can we proceed?’
His question was met with a staccato burst of static.
‘What’s happened?’ Mottrack growled.
‘Interference, General. There’s nothing I can do about it. You’ll just have to be patient.’
Bavril winced at Scratcher’s words. Mottrack let out a low hiss. His hand went to his gun.
‘No,’ said Mottrack.
Scratcher paled.
‘No, take him below.’
‘No!’ Scratcher shouted. A Cythosi guard gripped him by the shoulders and lifted him bodily from his seat. ‘No!’
Bavril took a step forward, then stopped. Bisoncawl was staring at him, his eyes burning out a warning. There was nothing he could do but watch as Scratcher was hauled away.
Mottrack tickled the struggling man roughly under the chin.
‘Soon...’ he purred.
There was a familiar rattling, clicking sound behind Bavril. He turned as their cetacean guest scuttled past. ‘Another morsel for the captain’s table?’
‘What? Ah, Blu’ip,’ Mottrack