The Empire of Glass - Andy Lane [94]
"Well?" she said when she couldn't bear the silence any more.
"What do we do now?"
Braxiatel's face didn't alter, as if he hadn't heard her, and the Doctor just glanced pityingly over at her, then at Braxiatel, then away again.
Angry now, Vicki turned to where the others were standing in a small group, wondering if one of them was going to suggest something. Galileo was busy gazing around as if he was trying to memorize everything in sight. Catching her enquiring glance he looked over at her and shrugged slightly. He seemed content to take his lead from someone else. It was, after all, not a world that he was used to. Albrellian looked the picture of misery: his leathery wings were folded around his shell, and his stalked eyes had retracted until they were almost invisible. Vicki didn't blame him: his plans to escape had been turned on their head within a few minutes and he had been forced to return to an island that might blow up at any second.
Feeling the anger simmer within her, she turned back to the Doctor and Braxiatel and opened her mouth.
"Well," the Doctor said before she could erupt, "here's a pretty kettle of worms to come to pass, hmm?"
"Shut up." There was no emotion at all in Braxiatels voice. "Just -
just shut up."
"Don't worry, my boy." Vicki could tell from the expression on the Doctor's face that he was enjoying himself immensely. "I've made mistakes of my own, you know. Not of this magnitude, I have to confess, but mistakes none the less."
"I had such hopes for the Armageddon Convention," Braxiatel said quietly, almost to himself. "I actually thought that it might do some good in the cosmos. I see now that I was just being naive. In future I'll just stick to collecting. It's safer and much less trouble."
"Never try to do anybody a favour," the Doctor said. "They won't thank you, and it usually goes horribly wrong." He clapped his hands together suddenly. Albrellian flinched. "We should clear this mess up now, before things slide any further. Mr Shakespeare will be heading for England in one of your vessels to fulfil the mission that he talked about earlier - spying for the King. We must stop him."
"Of course," Braxiatel said sarcastically. "And do we save the meta-cobalt bomb for later? Oh, and what about the rogue Jamarians who are running loose around the island?"
"The meta-cobalt bomb appears to be awaiting a final component,"
the Doctor snapped, "so I would suggest that you disperse the carriers before it arrives. And if you use your control box to send all the skiffs away to the moon then the Jamarians will be stranded here for the time being. Now stop shilly-shallying, and get to work!"
As he slumped down to the floor, Shakespeare's mind was filled with the terrible consequences of what he had done. When he had stood there, listening to the fine speeches of Braxiatel and the Doctor, and Braxiatel's demons, he had grasped one thing: the metal box contained information that King James would want, if he knew it existed. Screwing his courage to the sticking-place, he told himself that strong reasons made for strong actions, and that things done well and with a care exempted themselves from fear, but his hands still shook uncontrollably when he reached out to snatch the box. And now his mind was filled with a whirling mass of facts, each fighting for his attention, as if some little demon were inhabiting his skull and naming everything he looked at. The worst thing was that he understood it all. It wasn't as if the names