Doctor Who_ The Dying Days - Lance Parkin [93]
She picked up the box of matches sitting on the little fireplace and remembered a dozen mornings squatting by the fire with a match trying to get the damn strips of newspaper in the hearth to light. Meanwhile Jason lay under the duvet pretending to be asleep while he was watching her out the corner of his eye. She'd light the fire, then scurry back to the bed and he'd pul the duvet open and let her in.
And now the room was empty. Just her, a crate of vodka and a bed that was too big for one person.
The Ice Warrior was coming up the short flight of stairs.
Benny pulled one of the unopened bottles from the box and unscrewed the top. Supermarket vodka this, nothing special. The Doctor, of course, was a bit of a connoisseur and wouldn't touch anything that didn't smell of Red Army engine oil. She wasn't fussy.
Benny just had time to take a swig as the Ice Warrior crashed through the door. He had to bend down almost to a crouch to get in, and seemed to fill the room.
She stood, a little awkwardly.
'Hello,' she said weakly, holding up a lit match. 'Beware the power of my mighty weapon. Sorry, it's the best I can do.'
Like all Martians, he was instinctively nervous around fire, but he wasn't going to stay scared for long. He had scars al along one side of his head where the water had splashed it. Nasty green weals hadn't quite finished forming.
Benny winced as her match burnt down to her finger. She dropped it and lit another.
'Look, I hate al this fighting,' she said in his native tongue. The sentiment was actually quite difficult to get across in the Martian language, their love of al things Thanatotic meant that it was pretty close to doublethink: 'good things are bad' and all that. 'Couldn't we just sit down over a bottle of voddy and talk it through?' She held up the bottle by way of demonstration.
'No,' the Martian replied. 'This must be to the death.' He used an unapologetic form.
Benny threw the bottle at him. He caught it, snapped it in half between his pincers. Almost a litre of perfectly good vodka splashed over his claw and massive forearm.
'You must die now. I wil not prolong your agony.' the warrior said. His breath wafted over her, cold as the draught under the door on a winter’s day. He was being charitable in the circumstances, considering the pain he must be in. Then again, the scars gave him something to brag about. No doubt in a couple of years there would be legends among the Argyre clan about how he'd ventured to the lair of the Summerfield, bitchqueen of Earth, a mighty twelve-armed, six-breasted harpy and how he had slain her in single unarmed combat.
'Please,' Benny pleaded, 'I don't want to kill you.'
He grunted a laugh and extended his claw, which still dripped with Smirnoff.
Benny dropped the lit match onto it and jumped past him out of the door.
His screams followed her down two flights of stairs and along the hal .
85
***
The room at the top of the house was a giant, flaring mass.
'What's going on?' Xztaynz was shouting.
'You've lost the other one as well?' Gerayhayvun said.
'Be silent!' Xznaal ordered. 'Respect the fallen warriors.'
'They've kil ed both Martians?' Gerayhayvun said, respect in his voice.
'They have,' Xznaal confirmed. 'The Gallifreyan is a threat to our operation. He must be destroyed.'
'You must deploy more warriors,' Gerayhayvun insisted.
'And watch them die? I respect life, Lord Gerayhayvun.'
'You seemed unconcerned when it was Eve that was at risk,' the human argued.
Xznaal grabbed Gerayhayvun's neck in his claw and pulled him off the floor. The human weighed less than his arm and was easier to lift. 'Terran life,' Xznaal roared, 'is of no concern. Earth crawls with animals. Remember that, my Lord.' He dropped Gerayhayvun to the deck. 'We must use another method.' He tugged at a control. 'Vrgnur, meet me in the Dispersion Chamber. Helmsman, increase altitude to ten thousand metres.'
***
Bernice