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lack of preparation for a rising among the Functionaries – an unheard-of occurrence – had made it easy. The six lift-access points to the lower decks had been taken with virtually no resistance while the bulk of the troops were still teleporting back to the ship. Guards had been posted, and strategic points had been booby-trapped with explosives. The kitchen cages had been opened and the captives released – though most of them were clearly dying. Now the heavily armed functionaries, drunk with the promise of liberty and, in many cases, the heavy Cythosi wines which had been freed from the kitchens, roamed the corridors shouting and singing, shooting randomly at service robots and just about anything else that took their fancy. Some accidentally triggered the explosive traps and blew themselves to pieces. The decks were running with blood and booze and tears of suppressed resentment and anger.

Things were tense in the long barracks which was the centre of the revolution. Nobody quite knew what to do next. Peck was angry.

‘What do you mean, you lost him?’ he demanded.

‘He must have slipped away during the fight,’ Bavril pleaded.

‘He was the perfect hostage,’ Peck grunted. The Doctor’s obviously been working with Mottrack. He could have been our bargaining chip.’

‘He must still be on the lower levels, said Bavril. ‘There’s no way he could have got to the lifts.

‘I know,’ said Peck. ‘Bisoncawl’s down here too, somewhere. I want them found!’

‘They’ll be looking for us, you know.’

‘I know,’ grunted Bisoncawl, opening a channel on his communicator. ‘Bisoncawl to command deck.’

‘Bisoncawl! Where are you? What is happening?’ General Mottrack’s voice growled from the tiny device.

‘I’m cut off, on the lower decks,’ said Bisoncawl. ‘The Doctor is with me. He’s alive.

‘General,’ the Doctor interrupted. ‘We have a big problem. The Krill eggs in the holding tank are starting to hatch.’

174

‘The tank was built in anticipation of a few eggs hatching,’ said Bisoncawl, ‘but it was not designed to withstand an attack by hundreds of Krill.’

‘The tank is constructed of fourteen layers of dryanthrite,’ said Mottrack. ‘Between each layer is a force field.’

‘It won’t be enough,’ said the Doctor grimly.

‘I don’t see the problem.’ A voice unfamiliar to the Doctor drifted over the communicator. ‘The holding tank is right in the middle of the decks now held by the humans...’ the voice spat the word ‘... so we just wait and let the Krill dispose of them.’

‘And then what?’ snapped the Doctor. ‘They will be unstoppable once they break out of that tank’

Bisoncawl leaned close to the communicator, pushing the Doctor aside. ‘We’re going to try to reach you,’ he said, and closed the channel.

‘Who was that?’ the Doctor asked Bisoncawl.

‘His name is Blu’ip: Bisoncawl replied. ‘He’s a cetacean, from Coralee. A criminal – a terrorist, wanted on a dozen frontier worlds, Coralee included. It was he who helped us locate the Krill nesting sites.’

‘He would seem to be a dolphin with strong opinions.’

‘He hates humans. He blames them for the systematic extermination of cetacean life forms over the centuries.’

‘I see, said the Doctor. ‘I look forward to meeting him. Shall we go?’

The Doctor and Bisoncawl moved cautiously along the miles of corridor.

‘Keep behind me,’ Bisoncawl had said. The Doctor had been happy to comply. The huge alien soldier had already gunned down a drunken huddle of mercenaries who were taking pot shots at a Cythosi flag.

‘Was that really necessary?’ the Doctor had asked.

‘I am a soldier,’ Bisoncawl had replied. ‘My ship is under attack...

and as you have pointed out, the lives of everyone aboard are under threat from the Krill. What would you have me do?’

The Doctor had said nothing.

Now they were approaching one of the lifts. It was at the end of a long corridor and was surrounded by perhaps twenty armed rebels.

‘Any suggestions?’ the Doctor asked.

‘One,’ said Bisoncawl. He stepped out into the corridor and fired a low-intensity plasma charge. It dropped a rebel where he stood. The man’s startled comrades turned