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going.’
Forrester thought of the TARDIS.
The strategy worked. A couple of minutes later she was
hauling herself out of the duct and on to the launchpad. Her
shirt, sopping with sweat, was stuck to her shoulders. Her
throat demanded water.
She got to her feet and stumbled forward in the dark. The
purple sun had almost set. Towering before her, clearly visible
despite the lack of light, was what remained of the Chelonian
shuttle. Her first glance suggested that a section had been
blown away. Then, as she got closer, she saw that the v-shape
that now distorted the shuttle’s shape like a bite taken from an
enormous cheese had been cleanly formed. The entire mid-
section of the shuttle had lifted off, and only a regular pattern
of scorches on the indented sides of the remaining sections and
the acrid tang of a fuel combination acted as evidence that it
had ever existed. The Secunda had evidently activated an
emergency escape procedure and detached the central pod.
She reached the side of the shuttle and walked along, taking
deep breaths of the cold night air and weighing up her options.
Her boot nudged something on the ground. She knelt to
inspect it.
It was Mr Jottipher. When she saw the horrific burns on the
corpse, Forrester was glad of the darkness. The arms and legs
of the luckless clerk were now little more than vestigial twigs
and there was a revolting smell of burnt flesh. Forrester almost
gagged, but she’d seen a lot of death.
She turned back for the hatch that led to the ducting. The
downward climb was a lot easier, and her arms and legs set to
work almost automatically. During the descent she devised a
plan. Cwej had been wrong. Wherever they might fetch up,
they were still living by the code-book. Throw away your
creed and you’ve not much left. She didn’t like either Taal or
Christie, but thirty years’ experience as an enforcer made that
of no consideration. She didn’t like plenty of people whose
lives she’d saved. Yes, it was important to remember who she
was and what she did. Although she’d only known him a short
while, she recognized in the Doctor a similar quality. He had
principles.
She dangled from the last rung on the ducting and swung
down, her boots hitting the ground with a hefty thump. ‘Cwej
boy,’ she called through into the sphere. 'The Secunda’s
taken –’
The reception sphere was empty. No trace of Taal, Christie
or Cwej.
She slumped against a wall and put her head in her hands.
A chirruping call-sign issued from the holo-screen in Big
Mother’s chamber of rest, disturbing his doze. He fumbled for
his remote control and altered the setting to the fleet’s internal
waveband. Immediately the image of cheering crowds on the
visit to Veygaphipton was replaced by the face of a young
officer. Big Mother remembered this young chap. The Second
Pilot. A line of scar tissue ran from the centre of his left cheek
and over the lid of his disabled left eye. Thoughtful of the
fellow to get himself injured, really. It made him distinctive.
‘Well met, Highness,’ he said. His brows were low-set,
making him appear perpetually angry. Another asset in the
officer class. ‘This is Second Pilot Frinza reporting.’
‘Thank you, we are aware of your designation,’ Big Mother
said loftily, lying. ‘Make your report.’
‘Highness, the spatial gateway to Zamper has opened.’
Big Mother nodded. ‘And what about Haf– er, oh, the
General?’
‘That’s just it, Highness. We have made a sighting of the
General’s shuttle’s emergency pod. It is travelling somewhat
erratically towards the opening, but does not respond to our
signals.’
Bother. This was just the sort of knotty problem that Big
Mother’s old brain found difficult. What to do? ‘Er, Second
Pilot, er, Frinza. Why do you not report this to your immediate
superior? Such matters are below the maternal interest.’
Frinza’s brows shifted slightly. ‘General Hezzka is my
immediate superior, Highness.’
‘Yes, well, of course. So make your report to him, that is
our point.’
‘But it is General Hezzka’s shuttle that returns from
Zamper, Highness.’
‘Oh? Oh.’ Big Mother closed his old eyes. It was so hard to
keep more than three facts in his head at once. ‘Hezzka, quite.
Well. What do you propose, Frinza?’
‘I propose, Highness, to ensnare the shuttle pod in a force
beam and bring it aboard the flagship. After all, it may be that
the General may be unable to answer our hailing call.’
‘Very well, do it, do it.’ Big Mother wheezed. In his left
underside was a fluttering pain. That was all he needed, a
recurrence of his old trouble. ‘Do it.’ He broke the link to
Frinza, closed his eyes again, and called for his nurse.
The Secunda’s thorough preparations for her flight from
Zamper had relied upon the supposition that after the death of
the Management the spatial forces holding the gateway closed
would be relaxed. Less than twenty minutes after leaving the
blasted planet behind her she was overjoyed to see on the
escape pod’s forward screen a line of coded intelligence
revealing that this had indeed occurred.
‘Oh, how thrilling!’ She looked a little sadly at the patches
of ash on the floor before the flight station. ‘Such a shame, our
Mr Jottipher, that you could not have lived to see this.’ Her
study of the shuttle’s defences had proved accurate. Mr
Jottipher had drained the last spark of the protective voltage
through his body, giving her unlimited access to the childishly
simple emergency flight system. In a ship as small as this pod
she could hop through the war zone with ease in a couple of
weeks; there was fortunately a plentiful supply of food
concentrates in stock. Not exactly suited to her needs – she
had always preferred a meaty diet – but adequate.
She let her mind wander as the inboard computer guided
the pod towards the gateway. Back to East Galaxy with a
million livres in guild tokens. The possibilities were limitless.
In her twelve years’ absence she’d kept a close eye on the
Management’s market reports, and had already decided to
return to Gilby Co. Zamper was finished. On her return Gilby
Co would be in the ideal position to expand, creaming off the
excess credit lost in the collapse of Zamper and using it to
swallow the smaller corporations that had leeched off it for so
long. The deadlock was broken, finally. Away from Zamper,
away from Smith, away from the position as Secunda. She had
longed for this so many years.
The forward screen clicked and chattered. She studied the
row of oddly-shaped symbols that were overlaid on the
widening mouth of the gate.
And then she saw them.
Massed on the far side of the gateway, more of their
appalling majesty revealed as the gate’s violet maw parted,
was a fleet of black starships, every one as big as a city. A
fleet of Chelonian battleships arrayed in a classical horseshoe-
formation. At this range their detectors were sure to pick her
up.
She threw back her arms. ‘No!’
Hezzka had given in to the parasite Bernice’s request for
another rest on their descent through the catacombs. If the
truth were known, he was most probably the more tired of the
pair, he reflected. The loss of his back left foot was irksome. A
soothing internal chemical aided in lessening the pain, but the
wound made it difficult to walk using his full weight, placing a
strain on his right side. They stopped, and he regarded Bernice
curiously. His experience of her kind had not prepared him for
her wisdom, kindness and sincerity. There still lingered a
natural series of doubts. The way she moved and her milky
odour were displeasing. But Hezzka felt he was in the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]