Doctor Who_ Storm Harvest - Mike Tucker [49]
The Doctor peered at the pad. The screen was suddenly awash with data. He scratched his head, and smiled.
‘I do believe our friend in there has cracked it,’ he said. ‘Now we’re getting somewhere.’
He settled down on a low wall, Bryce slumped next to him, his head weaving. He pulled his flask from his pocket and took a swig.
He laughed. ‘And I thought I was safe on good old Coralee.’
The Doctor didn’t look up, absorbed in the data on the screen.
93
‘In my youth I was a war correspondent,’ said Bryce. ‘I covered the frontier campaigns. Several of the big campaigns too.’ A nostalgic smile flickered over his face. ‘Even saw some Daleks once.’ The smile faded again. ‘We set down on a planet near the end of it all, an outpost
– deep-space mining colony. The place had been gutted, blown wide open.’
‘Daleks?’ The Doctor looked up.
Bryce nodded, and swallowed hard.
‘Never seen anything like it. They weren’t part of the war. Not even from that system. They arrived and massacred everyone. Women, children.’
Bryce stared at the night sky. ‘Have you ever been in a war, Doctor?
I mean, really in it? People being maimed and killed all around you?’
‘Once or twice,’ said the Doctor absently, scrutinising the data.
Bryce grabbed his arm.
‘Then you know...’ he said. ‘I couldn’t go through that again. Not here. I came here to escape all that.’
The Doctor smiled kindly at him.
‘Who knows?’ he said. ‘It might not come to that.’
‘Doctor, you don’t understand,’ said Bryce. ‘The stories – the legends – they all say one thing. The Krill are the embodiment of mindless, destructive fury, Doctor. They are rage. Pure rage.’
94
Chapter Eleven
Bavril slunk down the quiet corridor. He’d never been down to these decks before. If he was found he’d be killed – or kept here. He shuddered at the thought.
A service robot scuttled out of a low hatch. Bavril froze – the things sensed movement, and Mottrack had set them all to automatic defence mode. They were lethal.
He waited until the robot had scampered away, then moved slowly forward. The silence was gradually giving way to the distant sound of activity. A strange, sweet smell permeated the corridors. It made Bavril feel slightly sick.
He came to a corner, and peered round it. A fat Cythosi was lumbering away from him down a wide corridor. The Cythosi stopped at some large metal shapes hanging in long rows from the ceiling.
Bavril’s eyes widened. They were cages.
‘And how are my little sweetmeats today?’ the Cythosi growled. He drew in a deep breath. ‘Breathe, little ones,’ he said. ‘Breathe in the perfumed air. It’s good for you.’
He lumbered off, and disappeared through a distant doorway.
Bavril sidled forward along the corridor towards the hanging cages.
He felt a wave of desperate, impotent anger rising in him. Each cage held one of his people. The disappeared. Taken below.
Most were slumped, insensible, on the barred floors of their cages.
Some moved, slowly and slightly, with varying degrees of lethargy, Some appeared to notice him.
‘Pssst... Bavril...’
Bavril spun round.
‘Scratcher!’ he whispered.
Scratcher was peering at him from behind a set of bars.
‘What are you doing here?’ Scratcher whispered. ‘You know what’ll happen to you if...’
‘I know,’ said Bavril. He tugged at the lock on the cage.
‘Don’t bother,’ said Scratcher. ‘I’ve tried. Go.’
‘I’m not leaving you here,’ said Bavril quietly.
‘For God’s sake, Bavril, there’s nothing you can do! I’m already 95
cooked and served.’ Scratcher smiled weakly.
There was a noise from down the corridor. Two Cythosi arguing loudly.
‘I’m coming back for you, Bavril hissed, and crept back the way he’d come, blinking to clear his eyes of tears.
In the shadows the dolphin Blu’ip watched with satisfaction. Humans were so predictable. He waited until the functionary had crept away and then scuttled forward. He stood, eyeing the rows of hanging cages with malicious glee.
The atmosphere in the colony remained unchanged. From where Ace and Rajiid were sitting in the