Doctor Who_ The King of Terror - Keith Topping [98]
They became like the Canavitchi – brutal, vicious slave masters. They killed two-thirds of the Canavitchi in an attempt to make them conform. But they never quite broke them.’
‘They had it coming,’ hissed the thing that had been Bois.
‘And then several centuries later, having organised the Canavitchi from 187
mindless thugs into intellectual thugs, they found themselves with a rebellion on their hands the like of which they weren’t prepared to face.’
The Doctor paused and looked at the Jex for comments. None were forthcoming. With the exception of the thing that had been Bois, they seemed to be agreeing with him. ‘It took, what, fifty years for you to lose everything?’
‘In your terms about eighty,’ replied the thing that had been Sanger, sadly.
‘Worlds collapsed one after another.’
‘Worlds were destroyed one after another,’ corrected Ryman, giving the Doctor a curious glance. ‘I’m intrigued to know how you know so much about our history.’
The Doctor was clearly pleased someone had asked the question. ‘I’ve been around a bit you know,’ he said. ‘And history is important. Without knowledge of your history, you cannot determine your destiny, do you see?’
The thing that had been Theydon Bois had clearly had enough of the history lesson. It stood aggressively and banged the table, startling its conglomerate colleagues. ‘This exercise in semantics is getting us nowhere,’ it roared. ‘Why are we allowing this whatever it is to come into our stronghold and lecture us on where we went wrong two thousand years ago?’
‘Well, if you want to spend your lives constantly running and looking over your shoulders –’ began the Doctor.
Lethbridge-Stewart interrupted in a cautious tone. ‘Doctor,’ he said, ‘I’m not entirely sure that you should be giving these creatures advice on better battle techniques.’
‘With a potential mole in our conglomerate,’ the thing that had been Joyce hissed, ‘we appreciate the insight.’ The irony was seemingly lost on its colleagues who all turned to the creature, menacingly.
‘It’s no secret, surely?’ it asked.
‘In fact, it’s rather obvious,’ the Doctor noted. ‘I’d have said it was somebody within this very office, wouldn’t you?’
He looked closely at the still-human form of Ryman. ‘Just so we’re clear about this,’ he continued, ‘if and when you stop the Jex invasion plans, your race are not staying either.’
The thing that had been Paolo Sanger turned to look at Ryman, with hatred blazing in its red eyes. ‘ You,’ it hissed as realisation dawned.
The Doctor glanced at Lethbridge-Stewart and the pair began to move, slowly, towards the door.
‘How did he die?’ Natalie asked Tegan, who gave the tall English girl a look that mixed pity and contempt. ‘Dave Milligan’s gone, just accept it,’ she wanted to shout.
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‘Alone and afraid, just like everybody else,’ Tegan replied at last. Reinven-tion, she decided, was something that she should try more often.
Natalie considered this, seeming to miss the implication that she was being savagely patronised. ‘Poor David,’ she said at last. ‘He was a true gentleman.’
That wasn’t quite what Tegan had expected to hear and a nagging doubt began to chant in the furthest recesses of her consciousness. Nothing in life is ever straightforward it told her. As Natalie thanked her and shuffled off towards the coffee machine, Tegan’s little voice added another thought. People are a complex amalgamation of emotions, experiences and feelings it said. They cannot be summed up in stereotypical bursts of blind prejudice.
Tegan looked across the UNIT mess room to where a freshly showered Paynter was lying on a camp bed. His bandaged leg was slightly raised with a pillow beneath it. In one hand was a bacon sandwich, whilst a cup of extra-strong tea steamed slowly next to the bed. Paynter took a huge bite from the sandwich, belched as he swallowed and used his free hand to scratch his belly.
He looked up at Tegan, and winked.
‘All right, love?’ he asked. ‘You feeling a bit less that time of the month?’
People are a complex