Doctor Who_ Trading Futures - Lance Parkin [70]
Anji had been wondering that herself, of course. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t?’
‘Possibly because I’ve been in your time machine? I stood out as someone who’d travelled in time.’
‘No,’ Baskerville said, too quickly.
‘Why not?’
Baskerville hesitated. ‘Well, for a start, I went to Brussels with you, remember? And Cosgrove had his trip the day before.’
‘Then I don’t know.’ It had to be the Doctor, she thought. They knew she was associated with the Doctor. Or perhaps she stood out because she’d done so much time travelling, or because she was out of her native time, or because she’d crossed her own timeline in Brussels.
Baskerville was examining the corpse. ‘There’s something in its ear.’
He tugged it out. It looked a lot like an earpiece.
‘Some sort of communications device?’ Anji asked. She held it up to her ear. ‘Yes – listen, it’s a test signal, it just keeps repeating operating instructions.’
Baskerville took it from her and listened. ‘In what language?’
‘English,’ Anji said, puzzled by the question.
‘It’s just growling and gargling. You speak alien. There’s more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there, Ms Kapoor?’
She hadn’t killed him back on the yacht, because she hadn’t had all the answers. For the first time, it dawned on Anji that she was still alive for exactly the same reason.
Baskerville was looking a little starry‐eyed. ‘I wonder if Dee could get it to transmit.’
‘And if she did?’
‘Well… a number of new business opportunities would be open to me, wouldn’t they?’
‘You’d deal with aliens?’
‘Wouldn’t you? I’m not going to let some politically incorrect nonsense about putting the human race first get in the way of a good deal.’
‘They were trying to kill you.’
Baskerville smiled. ‘My dear, they were trying to kill you. Hardly the same thing, is it? Don’t worry – I need you alive for the moment. After all, you’re the only one who understands the language. My organisation is always on the lookout for people with special talents. You can be my chief negotiator.’
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Dealbreaker
The Onihr deputy leader drew in a deep breath, and examined the control gallery.
A room full of highly trained, professional warrior‐scientists, preparing for their task. There was no greater testament to their fallen leader than the dedication of those men he had left behind.
The deputy leader wasn’t sure he could match up.
Onihrs are immortal, barring attacks such as the one that befell the leader. Immensely long‐lived, at any rate. The leader had commanded this ship for thirty thousand years. The deputy leader had served under him for twenty‐five thousand of those years. He had not expected to ever become leader himself. He had trained for it, he had the knowledge, but he wasn’t prepared.
The humans were vicious things, more vicious even than the databanks had suggested. The tactical analysis hadn’t foreseen the death of the leader, so they could be wrong about victory in an invasion.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of the deputy leader’s mind, there was doubt. Some instinct that made him question what purpose the invasion would serve.
An act of revenge? Against a primitive species that barely comprehended its actions, that had the merest flicker of space travel. They were no threat to the Onihrs, and if they ever were to be, it wouldn’t be for millennia.
‘Deputy leader!’ one of the communications technicians barked.
‘Yes?’
‘The leader’s communicator is active!’
The monitor screen parped and the scent of a human wafted over.
Gibbering human language started up, a deeply unpleasant sound.
A moment later, another human voice, but one speaking in the Onihr tongue.