Part 16 (1/2)

'I know. But you must.' The Doctor looked up at her, his fingers pressed together in front of his mouth as he spoke. 'I need you here to help me, but above all there must be no communion until I've worked out the best thing to do with you all.'

From high in the sky, there came the growing hum of a drive unit.

'And there, unless I'm mistaken, is my lift,' said the Doctor. 'I suggest you get back in the TARDIS where I showed you right now.'

Kelzen rounded on him. 'Why?' she asked challengingly.

131.

The Doctor sighed. 'I'm not running auditions for companions here. You'll be falling over and spraining your ankle next. Just do as I say please!'

Hogarth got the pilot to bring the skimmer in low, following the trace which had just appeared on the ridge in Sector D. It should not have been there, and it did not fit comfortably into Ca.s.sie Hogarth's world-view.

As the skimmer contacted with the ground, red dust sprayed up on both sides, and some of it clung to the skimmer's hood like old, rusty bloodstains.

Hogarth, priming her weapon, frowned at the strange blue box and the incongruous figure which stood before it. 'All right,' she said to the pilot, 'get this thing open.'

The skimmer's top flipped up, and Hogarth's gun was instantly trained on the intruder, a small man in a crumpled white suit.

'I wouldn't try anything on,' she called out.

'Well, indeed,' said the man, who, as far as Hogarth could see, was busy trying to tuck an old-fas.h.i.+oned viewing instrument into his inside pocket. 'I'd heard this was hardly the centre of sartorial industry. Kolpasha's the place for that, I think you'll find.'

'Get in,' said Ca.s.sie Hogarth, motioning with the gun. 'The Phracs will be in this sector in a matter of minutes. And if you get in the way, they'll spread you all over the landscape like b.u.t.ter. Right?'

'How charming,' said the little man, as he came forward. 'Service with a simile.' He raised his hat at her and settled himself in the back seat of the skimmer with his hands behind his head. 'Phractons, eh?' he said in a low voice to the impa.s.sive pilot. 'This should be interesting.'

Like a swarm of gla.s.s bees, the wave of Phracton air modules undulated over the ruins of Banksburgh. They seemed to cling together, forming a single tornado of light and sound.

Heading towards the Phoenix Phoenix.

In the collective mind buffeted and buoyed by its strength and hatred rode the will, the dark side of the Sensopath.

Her body the physical manifestation which called itself Shanstra sat bolt upright on her throne at the centre of the ice-rink. Snakes of fire were coruscating around the stadium, bouncing from the vidscreens, leaving brief images like stains of green light; images of screaming mouths, las.h.i.+ng tentacles, the occasional glimpse of the buildings and the ground far below. And at the heart of it all sat the demonic, beautiful alien, her eyes hollow, her mind travelling.

Travelling.

132.

She gripped the neural circuits of the Secondary like an old, experienced horse-rider back in the saddle after years away. A rider who was just beginning once more to remember the power of the wind in her hair, to feel at one with the flanks of the animal, to respond to its impulses and to guide them, direct them.

The Phracton Swarm was vengeful. And angry.

Suzi Palsson, in the streets far below, heard the whining sound of the Swarm, growing to a thunderous rush like a shuttle booming over her head.

She saw movement in the c.h.i.n.k of light between the buildings high above her. Meshed with girders, the channel of brightness revealed a momentary image of the glittering Swarm, hurtling towards destiny. Sc.r.a.ps of waste paper, rags, dust, all lifted from where they lay and seemed to dive-bomb her like a flock of angry birds. Suzi remained impa.s.sive, like a statue, staring up into the sky. Doors of old warehouses banged in the gale, and for a moment it was as if the ghosts of the dead had clawed their way back up on to the surface of Banksburgh to investigate the commotion.

Share the beauty of it, Suzi.

There she was, still there in her head. Suzi closed her eyes, felt rather than saw the tumult in the street subside.

She remained gazing at the strip of brightness after the Phracs had pa.s.sed over.

She closed her eyes. There was a latent sensation of flying, if she concentrated Shanstra's influence. Shanstra, riding in the sky with the angry horde of alien creatures. She could block it out. It was there, like an image projected on a wall of her mind, but she didn't have to look at it.

She remembered, now, one of the many books she had absorbed during quiet hours in the library. During those lulls when the off-worlders were away and the library had almost become her lover; the dust, the buzzing of the lights, the blink of the vidscreens, all as familiar to her as the outlines of Colm's body, as the feeling of his short, spiky hair beneath her hand.

Suzi walked along the desolate street, remembering the story. A fairy tale, a legend, about a dark G.o.ddess from some mythical world, who loved her children so much that she did not allow them even to be born. Somehow they would become absorbed into her body, absorbed back into the hollows of nothingness, trapped forever. Some escaped from the womb, but the monstrous mother would devour them whole so that they descended once more, down into the blackness.

Suzi, without realizing it, had stopped against the cold stone wall of one of the buildings, shaking uncontrollably. She buried her face in her arms.

133.

Still there, in her head. A rus.h.i.+ng, hurtling sensation, and a rich, wine-dark laugh, seducing and mocking her.

Shanstra was her G.o.ddess, her mother, her all-embracing reason for being.

She had swallowed Suzi like one of those children, but Suzi wanted to be a poison. And one of them Suzi or Shanstra was going to have to die.

134.

17.

Ruined in a Day

'My brain hurts,' said Bernice. 'Otherwise I'm fine. Thanks for asking.'

'I didn't,' answered the Doctor.

'I know.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Should think so.'

The brief exchange took place in an unoccupied corner of the Phoenix Phoenix bridge, now with its crew functioning at full capacity. Benny could hardly believe these were the same listless individuals she had seen earlier; they seemed suddenly to have turned into professionals. The cards had been cleared away, the seats tilted up from a comfortable resting position into upright positions of battle. bridge, now with its crew functioning at full capacity. Benny could hardly believe these were the same listless individuals she had seen earlier; they seemed suddenly to have turned into professionals. The cards had been cleared away, the seats tilted up from a comfortable resting position into upright positions of battle.

The huge screen showed a false-colour density image of the terrain, with computerized blips marking the relative positions of the wave of Phracton attackers and the arrow formation of the Phoenix Phoenix fighter craft. fighter craft.

And, leaning on the rail of the command balcony, watching it all like a hungry hawk, was Darius Cheynor, with Horst Leibniz at his side. Bernice had been quite relieved to see Hogarth heading off to lead the defence force, but felt rather guilty about it and now, belatedly, wished her well.

There had been little time for Cheynor and the Doctor to exchange more than a cursory greeting, as the Phractons' advance had already been picked up on the comsat link by the time the Doctor was brought in. Bernice had watched it all, and had been quite impressed by the sudden s.h.i.+ft to efficiency.

And now, her presence on the bridge, along with the Doctor's, seemed to be not only tolerated, but required.

She was not going to ask for the finer details of what had happened on Earth. Somehow, she had gathered, Tilusha Meswani's child, which had become a grown man overnight, was now housing a telepathic female alien who might be their ally, and might not. Or was the alien containing the boy? The Doctor had been worryingly ambiguous about that.

'And anyway,' the Doctor went on, quietly, as the hums, clicks and crackled reports from around the bridge gathered intensity, 'the human brain doesn't feel pain. Headache pain is caused by receptors external to the cerebral organs, in the duro-matter. The brain itself is quite numb.'