Doctor Who_ Trading Futures - Lance Parkin [81]
‘Anji Kapoor, Malady Chang. Malady Chang, Anji Kapoor. Good to see you again.’
‘We met at the airport,’ Malady said.
Anji shrugged. ‘Which one? I’ve been to more airports in the last couple of days than…’
Anji shut up and hugged the Doctor.
The Doctor peeked around the curtain, over at Dee. ‘She looks preoccupied.’
‘How did you get on board?’ Anji asked.
‘There’s a cargo hatch open at the rear.’
‘Where Cosgrove got out…’ Anji realised.
‘He’s here, is he?’
‘He was.’
‘Who’s on the plane?’ Malady asked.
‘Baskerville, the pilot, Leo, and Dee. Oh, and the President.’
Malady looked surprised.
‘No one else?’
‘Well, not unless you count the dead alien in the rear compartment.’
The Doctor smiled. ‘My, you have been busy.’
Twenty or so metres in front of them, Baskerville emerged from the cockpit, exchanged words with Dee, then headed towards the President. Leo was there, too. Both carried pistols, Baskerville was also carrying that carry case. The President was on his feet, arguing about something with Baskerville.
‘What happened to the Fourth Prophecy?’
‘There are forces acting against us,’ Baskerville insisted. ‘People that don’t want humanity to get time travel. We have to hurry if we are going to defeat them.’
Baskerville and Leo were half‐dragging the President to the door. Mather decided to co‐operate. Dee recovered her rucksack. A moment later, all four had left the plane.
‘We have to get after them,’ Malady insisted.
Anji winced. ‘Well, do you mind if I… if you just wait a minute or two? I won’t be long.’
* * *
Five Onihrs in full armour stood in front of their deputy leader in a cavernous antechamber some way away from the control gallery of the space craft.
Fitz stood behind the deputy, smiling in a way that he hoped would be so winsomely charming that they wouldn’t use him for target practice.
‘The humans are resourceful,’ the Deputy Leader barked. ‘They have done the Onihr race a great harm. They have killed our leader, made us doubt our own manifest superiority. We could destroy them at a distance, but if we did so, we would never destroy that doubt.’
The Onihrs shifted around, looking uncomfortable. Their armour rattled like a car being dropped on to a scrapheap.
‘We must avenge our leader’s death in hand‐to‐hand combat. We must tear the human time machine from their mammal paws. Then we will return, and we will become the new Lords of Time.’
The Onihrs burst into spontaneous appreciation of this sentiment – banging gloved fists against the breastplate of their armour and hooting and growling their approval.
Fitz prided himself on his laissez‐faire attitude to life, but that sound scared him almost witless.
The deputy leader clearly drew strength from this show of support. ‘Let us go to the Earth – let us go to our destiny!’
And all six of the fully armed Onihrs faded into thin air.
It was suddenly very quiet.
Fitz fished in his pockets for his cigarettes, but could only find Anji’s phone and Pad, the control box.
‘How can I help?’
‘You can generate smells, yeah?’
‘The Onihr race’s primary sense is that of smell. All displays configured for –’
‘Can you copy smells? If so, could you copy the smell of leaf smoke. If not, could you shut up for a bit.’
To his intense relief, the smell of tobacco wafted up from the control box. Not the same as a smoke, of course, but the next best thing.
‘Pad, old mate,’ he said finally, ‘how are you on noble self‐sacrifice?’
‘I am a control interface, sir, I have no sense of self. The Onihr race value the heroic loss of one life for many.’
‘I don’t think they’ll be too hot on what I’ve got in mind. Could you teleport me to the Ee and Pee maintenance room, please?’
‘Of course, sir.’
* * *
The Doctor examined the controls of the Concorde, Malady searched the rest of the small cockpit. Anji watched.
‘The co‐pilot’s controls can be reconfigured,’ he said. ‘Look. Do either of you recognise this setting?’
Malady leaned over. ‘It’s been set up as a RealWar booth.’
‘He was controlling the hovertank from in here,