Doctor Who_ Storm Harvest - Mike Tucker [93]
He heard the Cythosi to his rear readying their guns. If the lift was occupied, he’d be caught in the middle of a fire-fight.
But the lift was empty, just as arranged. He broke into a jog, and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed around him.
His descent began.
The doors opened on half a dozen armed and angry-looking humans.
He recognised one of them.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘It’s Bavril, isn’t it?’
The holding tank seethed with Krill. They slashed and tore at its clear walls, which crackled with energy.
‘Oh dear,’ said the Doctor.
‘Is there anything you can do?’ Bavril asked.
‘I think I should be able to strengthen the shields still further by diverting power from other systems on the ship,’ mused the Doctor.
‘The walls of the tank should be able to take the extra energy input...
That should give us time to repair the teleport system.’
‘How long is all this going to take?’
The Doctor turned to address the newcomer. ‘Mr Peck... yes.
Perhaps a day?’
‘In which time the Cythosi can be formulating plans to retake the ship.’
The Doctor sighed. ‘That’s a chance you’re just going to have to take, isn’t it?’
‘No!’
A new voice boomed from the shadows. A figure stepped forward.
‘Garrett,’ the Doctor said. ‘Or is it Skuarte? I’m not sure at the moment... and I suspect you aren’t either.’
Garrett circled them slowly. Under one arm was slung a plasma gun; under the other, the ancient weapon from the temple. The Doctor’s heart surged.
180
‘Garrett,’ he said evenly. The weapon. You’ve got to give me the weapon.’
‘But Doctor,’ Garrett beamed, ‘it isn’t a weapon. It’s a religious artefact, remember? I have simply claimed what is mine.’
‘Listen, who the hell are you?’ snapped Peck, stepping forward.
‘The day of liberation is upon you, my child,’ Garrett said sweetly. ‘I am here to deliver you from bondage.’
He unslung his plasma gun.
‘The trumpet has sounded! I am here to set free the purging fires of the Last Judgement!’
Smiling beatifically, Garrett pumped round after round into the giant holding tank. Its walls buckled and gave way.
‘Run!’ the Doctor shouted. He threw himself at Garrett, desperately grappling for the weapon. With Cythosi strength Garrett threw him across the room.
Krill were surging from the tank, stretching and mewling.
It was strange – the sight of Garrett seemed to make them freeze.
They circled him slowly, warily. He raised the ancient weapon above his head, and they shrank back still further.
‘Go, my children,’ he said. ‘Go and do my bidding.’
He brought the weapon down and the Krill scattered across the holding bay. They were at once themselves again, sniffing and seeking prey.
The Doctor scrambled to his feet and ran as hard as he could. He could see Bavril and Peck disappearing down the corridor and caught up with them at the lift.
‘Barracks level,’ Peck gasped as the doors closed. ‘At least they won’t know how to use lifts.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ said the Doctor. ‘And Garret seems to be able to drive them. They have some mental reaction to the weapon. Give me your communicator.’
‘What for?’ asked Peck.
‘I need to inform General Mottrack of the situation.’
‘Inform the enemy of our position?’
‘Don’t be stupid, Peck,’ Bavril cut in. ‘You saw those things.’
‘The Krill are the enemy, Peck,’ the Doctor snapped. ‘Yours and the Cythosi’s. And mine. If I can’t convince you – not to mention General Mottrack – of that we’re all doomed.’
Holly stumbled through the gloom of her apartment, shrugging off wet clothes and hauling dry ones from her cupboards.
R’tk’tk, now cradled in his exoskeleton, lurked in the doorway.
181
Like all the buildings in the colony, the apartment block was dark.
Tourists and home-owners alike were cowering behind locked doors waiting for the hurricane – or worse – to come tapping at their windows.
Holly struggled into a pair of jeans and tugged on a heavy