Doctor Who_ Storm Harvest - Mike Tucker [48]
He lurched towards the Doctor, knocking glasses to the floor, 91
gripping the Time Lord’s coat and staring imploringly into his eyes.
‘They died out, Doctor! They died out!’ he cried.
The Doctor smiled softly at him. ‘I’m very sorry, Mr Bryce,’ he said.
Bryce dropped back into his chair. The Doctor said nothing, just tapped idly at the controls on the data-pad. Suddenly the bar was filled with a loud, painful bleeping. Bryce jumped like a startled rabbit. The big Dreekan waiter stomped over to their table.
‘What’s going on?’ he demanded. ‘Shut it up or get out!’
‘I can’t shut it up,’ the Doctor shouted over the din.
‘I can,’ the waiter said.
He raised an arm and brought his fist thumping down on to the table, crashing down on the pad. The alarm stopped instantly.
The Doctor sprang to his feet. ‘You imbecile!’ he shouted. ‘Do You have any idea what you’ve just done?’
The waiter looked him up and down. He snarled contemptuously and flexed his fingers together, cracking the knuckles in a fierce staccato.
‘Well, Blu’ip, you’re going home. How does it feel?’
Bisoncawl and the cetacean were drinking in the first officer’s quarters. Bavril was waiting on them, lurking in a corner and trying to be invisible.
‘That sink-hole isn’t my home,’ the dolphin spat. ‘Not any more. I hope the Krill tear the planet in two.’
‘But what about your own species?’ asked Bisoncawl. ‘Are there not thousands of cetaceans on Coralee?’
‘Cowards and traitors,’ snarled Blu’ip. ‘They deserve to die. Boy!’
Bavril scuttled across the room.
‘Same again,’ Blu’ip drawled languidly. ‘And don’t drown it in soda this time. Or I’ll get the commander here to eat you.’
Bavril felt himself tensing. He tried to look calm.
‘You don’t approve of our eating habits, do you?’ Bisoncawl asked the dolphin.
‘I don’t disapprove,’ Blu’ip replied. ‘I’m hardly what you’d call vegetarian myself. I just worry that by the time our mission’s complete there won’t be enough crew left to pilot the ship. You’ll have eaten them all.’
‘The good ones will be preserved,’ said Bisoncawl, looking at Bavril. ‘Survival is their reward for loyal service.’
Until the next voyage, Bavril thought. Or the next...
‘Yes but... that fellow Mottrack pulled from the deck – he was a communications operator. That’s a skilled job. Lose any more like that and...’
92
‘His name is Scratcher,’ Bavril said suddenly, without thinking.
‘He’s my friend.’
Bisoncawl stared coldly at him.
‘Be careful, functionary,’ he said. ‘You want to live, don’t you?’
‘While my friends die around me,’ Bavril said in barely a whisper.
‘Speak up, boy,’ Blu’ip said.
‘Wh... While my friends die around me,’ Bavril quavered.
Bisoncawl rose slowly to his feet. He swung a mighty arm the air and brought it scything down at Bavril. It hit his shoulder with a crunch, and jolted him across the room. Bisoncawl stomped towards him.
‘Don’t damage him,’ Blu’ip purred. ‘He’s a pretty thing...’
The dolphin extended a mechanical tentacle and stroked Bavril’s cheek.
‘Get out of the way,’ said Bisoncawl.
He aimed a kick at Bavril’s prostrate body and propelled it towards the far wall.
‘Get up,’ he said. Bavril staggered to his feet.
‘Never again speak like this. In front of me or anyone else. Now get out.’
Bavril limped to the door and used its frame to haul himself from the room. He slumped against the wall outside. He heard the clink of glasses within.
‘To Coralee,’ said Blu’ip. ‘May she burn in hell.’
‘You forget, said Bisoncawl, ‘you’ll be going back a hero. We’ll all be heroes. We’ll be the saviours of the colony!’
The gruff, snorting laughter of the Cythosi mingled with the high-pitched chirruping of the dolphin. Bavril limped away, cradling his bruised body with his arms.
‘... And don’t come back!’
The door slammed behind the unwilling drinking companions. The Doctor dusted himself down.
‘I’ve been