Downtime - Marc Platt [101]
She can be the next.’
Captain Douglas Cavendish was suddenly animated. He moved towards the pyramid of silver spheres and lifted the topmost from the stack. It started to bleep.
‘For all the torment that you gave me, gaoler,’ hissed the Intelligence in Travers.
Cavendish set the globe on the ground. It moved immediately, homing in on Kate. The Brigadier dared not move for fear that the Chillys would restrain him too. The sphere stopped directly in front of Kate. It paused, rocking back and forth, preparing to leap.
The Brigadier threw himself across in front of his daughter as the sphere flipped into the air.
He caught it in both hands. He saw his face in it. It pummelled at his wrists, spinning and struggling in the cage of his fingers until it burned him.
The two Chillys holding Kate pushed her roughly aside and moved forward to assist the sphere. Kate stumbled and felt the weight in her coat pocket.
Her father lurched backwards under the globe’s attack. He swung his clenched arms like a mace, forcing the Chillys back.
The machine’s nerve jangling bleep had become a shriek as it forced towards his chest.
The army officer stood impassively over him.
The wild-haired old man, eyes gaping, tottered forward, eager to see the tournament. Willing it on.
Kate was blocked out. The gun metal was cold in her hands.
The old man was a monster. He was causing this. He was the driving force. When she was little, he lived under the stairs. Now he lived under the bunk and kept Gordy awake at night. He wouldn’t have her father too.
Two gunshots cracked out.
The old man staggered and fell. He turned to gasp in amazement at his assailant.
Rage froze Kate. The pistol levelled in her outstretched hands. Her face was tight, locking in the scream.
You are Transgression. I am Retribution.
‘Kate!’ called the Brigadier as he dropped to his knees. The sphere was unrelenting.
She gulped air and woke out of the trance. Her fingers loosened and dropped the pistol in disgust.
The emotionless audience of Chillys round the arena were coldly scrutinizing her.
She saw her father fighting for his life. She was running to his aid.
The broken shape of Travers, wounded, bleeding, punctured by darts of light, lurched into her path.
Victoria shielded her eyes as she fell away from the staring screen.
Gunshots splintered the air of the generator chamber as Sarah Jane Smith fired the gun again and again. The Yeti was bleeding, but it never faltered – a shaggy hill driving Sarah into a corner.
The gun ran out of rounds. She flung it uselessly at the brute. The monster bellowed in triumph and raised its clawed hand to strike.
‘Daniel!’ called Victoria.
The claws faltered, dipped slightly, then rose again.
‘Daniel! I know you’re still clinging there.’
Again the monster faltered. It angled slowly towards Victoria, its clawed hand still raised.
She crossed the floor, walking straight up to the huge creature. ‘Daniel. Remember your disciplines.’
The Yeti turned completely, towering over her. She faced up to its gaze. Its hand came down in a strange human gesture of contemplation, tapping at teeth it did not have in its colossal head.
From the floor close by came Christopher’s burst of mocking laughter.
The Yeti started to growl.
‘Daniel,’ Victoria repeated quietly. ‘What do you seek?’
The creature stirred uneasily, but its attention was held.
Victoria thought back to Tibet. An ancient lama had once asked her that question. Whatever else had happened since, the answer she had given had been undeniable.
‘Daniel. Remember the disciplines you have learned.
Remember your inner strength. We all have it. You among all of us are strong. Above all things, remember the Truth.’
She felt the stirrings of his mind trapped inside the thing he had become. It was all confusion. There was guilt and sorrow and terrible pain. More than anything, she recognized a will to survive, not to give in. There was a single thought