Doctor Who_ The Paradise of Death - Barry Letts [96]
Secondly, it appeared that wild bats, who did not have the advantage of warm stables in the winter, were given to seasonal migration. Although it was still rather early in the year, Kaido (on whose bat the Brigadier was riding) was confident that, for a while at any rate, the flock would be mistaken for their itinerant cousins.
‘I do believe we’ve got away with it,’ the Brigadier said to himself as they approached the centre of the city, where all their early targets were grouped.
As if to punish his over-confidence, from all directions, vectoring in at top speed, came the purple-liveried flycars of the Security Force.
The Brigadier glanced round at his amateur army, hanging on grimly to the fur of their flying steeds, clutching their stunguns and projectors. He hoped to God they’d remember their orders. If they tried to turn this into a shooting match, they’d have lost before they began. It was a coup, not a war.
‘By jove, they’re fast,’ cried the Brigadier as the cars swooped towards them.
‘Too fast,’ said Kaido.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ll see. Hold on tight.’
Just as it seemed that the approaching patrols must inevitably blast them all out of the sky, Kaido’s bat, in common with all the others, pulled in its wings and dropped like a shot pheasant.
‘Good grief!’ exclaimed the Brigadier over the despairing wail of his alleged aide-de-camp which came from behind him.
The flycars, taken by surprise, swung through the emptiness where the flock had been and sped away into the distance, curving round in circles half the city wide before they were able to return to the attack.
The bat had unfurled its wings and, as suddenly as before, with a couple of quick flaps, it turned and shot off to the left, then swooped up into the air once more. All around, its companions were employing similar tactics, jinking and dodging and fluttering like autumn leaves in a playful breeze.
Kaido was laughing with glee. ‘This is our game – and the game of our animals. They enjoy it as much as we do.
Kimonyan children chase each other on baby bats.’
As best he could, the Brigadier, ignoring the squeaks from immediately behind him – and indeed the oaths proceeding from an unhappy Ungar behind Jeremy – gave the pre-arranged signal for all groups to disperse to their several destinations.
He saw Haban Rance giving him a cheery wave as his bat zig-zagged away towards the ER station. Good, he thought as he pointed Kaido in the direction of the Security HQ, morale was still high. Everything was going well.
It’s doubtful if Sarah would have agreed with him. She and the Doctor had been hustled into a Security flycar and whipped across the city to an area different from anything she had seen so far. Even though it was starting to get dark, she could still make out that the buildings, of a style which reminded her of the pavilions of Space World, were not residential; nor were they industrial.
Dominating them was a colossal construction which, as they flew over it, could be seen to be a mighty floodlit stadium full of people. Sarah had often seen shots on TV, during the Olympic games for example, which looked similar, but this was on a scale breathtakingly larger.
‘The Games, I presume,’ said the Doctor, as they started to descend. Tragan didn’t bother to reply.
‘I’ve never seen the point of these places,’ said Sarah, determined to behave as if nothing was wrong. Desperately trying to hide the tremor in her voice, she added, ‘You’re so far away you can’t see anything.’
Tragan turned round and eyed her. His face was still, bar one large dripping pustule which was pulsating like a glabrous sea anemone. ‘You are forgetting ER, Miss Smith,’ he said. ‘Every position is equipped with a multichannel, multi-viewpoint receiver. Even if you’re in the farthest seat, you can have a ringside view.’
‘Then why bother to come at all?’
‘Real blood. Real death. So much more fun to know that you’re actually taking part. We could fill the stadium five times over.’
A dribble of pus trickled onto his