Doctor Who_ Transit - Ben Aaronovitch [81]
Kadiatu slipped the laser torch from her thigh pocket as she rolled on to her feet. Benny was already turning but too late. Kadiatu thumbed the torch's firing stud even as her hand was rising.
The microsecond pulses of red coherent light were too short to be visible in the attenuated Martian atmosphere. Kadiatu used the puffs of vapour where it hit as her aiming guide and walked the laser up Benny's torso.
'No,' screamed the Doctor.
Vapour screamed out from the pinprick holes stitched into the chest of the suit as Benny turned to face Kadiatu. The left arm came round, hand flexed backwards.
Die you bitch, thought Kadiatu.
Benny's visor turned instantly matt black, automatic polarization to shield the wearer from intense radiation. As a result it absorbed the total energy of the laser's next pulse. A small hole formed and the pressure differential blew the visor apart.
The guns in both of Benny's arms went off as she fell down, loud enough to be audible in the thin atmosphere, shells blowing chunks of rock from the roof. She spasmed once on the ground and lay still. Vapour billowed upwards from the shattered faceplate, oxygen and water crystallizing in the subzero temperature. Then the suit realized that its occupant was dead and shut down the recycling packs.
The Doctor moved slowly forward to crouch by the body.
Kadiatu fought down the intense animal joy that seemed to rip through her. Her breathing was loud in her ears. The curve of the Doctor's back was a mute accusation.
'Go on,' she said. 'Tell me I didn't have to do that. I've broken the rules. You didn't like that, did you? No one's supposed to die without your permission.'
'If that were true,' said the Doctor, 'you'd all be immortal.'
He stood up, the suit making him look bulky and inhuman.
'That isn't Bernice,' he said. 'I've been done.'
Marangano Depot (P-87)
A shoji door in the room of Mariko's mind opened and light flooded in. Her head jerked up and she felt the blood sing through her temples. The razvedka were suddenly silent in their slave berths. Naran looked at her, his nostrils flaring, tongue nervously flickering between his ovoid lips.
'All right,' said Mariko, 'that's the signal. Fire her up.'
From the back of the black train the engines screamed up from idle, harmonics shaking dust from cracks in the station walls.
'Remember, we don't do this for love or money.' She smiled and her mouth was deep with teeth. 'We do it for the fun of it.'
The black train jumped forward, accelerating for the first tunnel gateway.
'Things to do,' chanted Mariko as they hit the interface.
'People to see!' chorused the razyedka.
Olympus Mons West
Zamina was into her fifth straight episode of Kukosa Kabila when the woman walked in. The big Brazilian woman Lambada had shown her where all the cards were kept and left her to it. The floozies had the most up-to-date video Zamina had ever seen and the Kenyan soap came with instant subtitles.
Wangari was just about to drop her bombshell to the village elders (she was leaving the village to work for the whites) when the door opened.
The woman was wearing a conservative English kaftan and walked in as if she owned the place. Zamina froze, welded suddenly to the leather couch.
'I'm back,' said Benny. 'Miss me?'
7: Doorstep Blues
STS Central - Olympus Mons
Right in the middle of the news item Yak Harris started to talk to Dogface. Locked in his all-body brace, it was pretty hard for Dogface to move but he managed a jerk. The pain was so intense that it cut through the cartload of endorphin analog that he was mainlining. A battery of sensors attached to the frame registered little spikes and then subsided.
Dogface's second reaction was to assume that the chemical fog the medics had deemed necessary to his wellbeing had pushed him into terminal brain crash.
Catastrophic systems failure amongst the neurones, random electrochemical discharges causing patterned disruption in the perception centres of the brain. That would account for the simultaneous auditory