Doctor Who_ Legacy Part 24

The Martian pointed further into the tunnel network. Along here.'

I seem to recognize this area,' murmured the Doctor. Suddenly he dropped to the floor. 'Footprints. Human ones alongside many Martian ones. Who else is here, Sskeet?' The Martian just carried on forward.

'Benny, where's Savaar?' 'Last seen being escorted at knifepoint towards the temple.'

Already?' The Doctor stopped and looked at the ceiling. He suddenly pointed at Sskeet. 'Sskeet, wait!' The Martian stopped and turned and the Doctor grasped Bernice's hand. 'Benny, go back. Now you know the truth, I need you to rescue Savaar. I don't care how, but discredit Atissa. She's accusing him of a.s.saulting her, which he didn't.'

'What'll you do?'

'Savaar wanted Sskeet to bring me here for a reason. I must go on. But remember, you are still mourning for me. No one, but no one must know that I'm alive. And don't let the Pakhar journalist or Kort know that you know I'm all right.' He looked her straight in the eye. She almost recoiled from the intensity of the stare - his coal-black eyes seemed to bore into her. Wait a minute, surely the Doctor's eyes were blue. Or green . . .

'Benny, trust no one except King Tarrol and High Lord Savaar. I mean that.'

He bounced up and caught up with Sskeet.

Bernice turned away and wandered back into the opening with the wheelbarrow. Which tunnel had she and Sskeet come down? She turned to one but it seemed very dark and looked quite oppressive. No, it can't have been that one. As she stared around her, it seemed as if only one seemed light enough to actually see down. With a shrug, she slowly headed down it.

'But if Savaar's dead, that must mean something's happened to the Doctor!' Ace jumped up from the rather too-comfortable seat she was slowly sinking into.

The Chair of the Galactic Federation frowned. The hologram floating in front of the two of them was slowly rotating, constantly s.h.i.+fting pixels so that they could both see Marshal Hissel's face. Is Ace correct, Marshal? Is everyone on Peladon dead?'

I cannot say for sure, Chair, but High Lord Savaar's orders were explicit. If anything happened to him, I was to contact you and explain that we were returning without any Federation personnel.'

Ace stared hard at the Chair but the aged Cantryan ignored her. I understand, Marshal. Please convey our deepest regrets to the Martian High Commission. I will deal with the Earth Consular and Centaurian MultiBody. To out.'

The hologram dribbled away into tiny pixels and was gone.

'So', growled Ace. 'So that's an Ice Warrior. Brings a whole new meaning to the concept of sh.e.l.l-suits, doesn't it?'

The Cantryan commissioner gazed at her uncomprehendingly. I am saddened by the loss, Ace. My son was among the death toll. That's both my children in three months.'

Ace looked across at him and sat again. I'm sorry,' she said.

The Cantryan crossed to another communication circuit and pressed a few codes. A human face pixeled into existence. 'Guardian's office, can I help?"

Ace regarded the handsome young human oriental facing them.

'Good afternoon, Chen. Is the Guardian of the Solar System available?'

Chen nodded. 'For you, Chair, she is always available.'

There was a pause and Chen's features were displaced and rea.s.sembled as an elderly but haughty human woman. 'Mavic says you wanted me, Trau Chair. How can I help?'

I am sorry to bear bad news on your final day as guardian, Madame Amazonia.'

Amazonia obviously shrugged and the pixels tried to reproduce the movement.

I'm used to it, Chair. And young Mavic here is learning that it comes with the post. What is the problem?'

'Peladon, Guardian. We appear to have lost the entire Federation representation there.'

The Guardian of the Solar System absorbed this and turned away. A second later she was joined by the young oriental. I will make it Mavic's first task to inform the relevant families.' Behind her Chen nodded and brought up his data-pad.

The Cantryan commissioner began reeling off the names.

Ace sunk lower into her chair. Something was wrong but she couldn't put her finger on it. Something about Hissel's wording. His evasion.

'How far are we from Peladon, pilot?' The Martian pilot mentally chided himself. He should have been expecting yet another irrelevant and contradictory request from Hissel. He'd had quite a few since breaking orbit - the strangest being broadcasting a supposedly private communication between Hissel and Io on all available frequencies - and a few illegitimate ones. One hour, thirty-four standard minutes, Marshal,' he sighed.

'Position of dead shuttle in Peladon's...o...b..t?' Thrown by this, the pilot had to scrabble about on his navcom. He punched up the relevant information. Its...o...b..t has decayed. It has already entered Peladon's atmosphere. I suspect Marshal that it has burned up.'

'You suspect incorrectly, pilot. However, it is what you were intended to think. Reverse course, let's get back into orbit but exactly where we were - geostationary. I do not want one millimetre's drift until I give the command.'

The pilot was about to question this when he mentally shrugged. Why bother? Hissel was obviously insane and there was little he could do about it.

Marshal Hissel breathed out gleefully. 'Weaponry?' he hissed into the air.

A hologram of a small Martian with a somewhat overlarge head appeared before him, large red eye-gla.s.ses staring wildly. 'Marshal?'

'Prepare blasters. We may need to engage hostile forces near Peladon. I want everyone to be ready.'

'Sir!' The hologram vanished. Hissel sat back in his command chair. Not long now.

'Landing shortly. Thirty seconds, prepare for a none-too-soft one, guys,'

yelled Cooper. Her hands raced across the navcom. She'd switched to manual, not trusting the computer to avoid all the tiny jags and ridges of Peladon's surface.

The shuttle hit Peladon with a slight thud and skidded briefly but quickly came to a stop.

'Good one,' yelled Lambert.

Here. Yes. This place is ideal. Take me.

Sadler ran a hand through her hair - she had a tremendous headache.

Must have been too much concentration, listening to all those messages between the Bruk and Io.

Townsend unstrapped himself and looked at his troops. Okay, here's the pay-off. We've fooled the Bruk and got down safely. We have about an hour's walk to the back of Mount Megeshra. We should find access quite easy and follow our noses. The boss has had a few weeks to label our route. We go in the back way, unload his treasures and go.'

Sadler looked at the safe-seal in horror. The translucent frontage had gone and the lid of the vacuum case was slightly ajar. Of course - the plasma blast must have knocked out the seal-systems. With the drive-systems taking priority . . . Still, she should have noticed it and told Townsend. She was going to when something made her stop.

No.

Instead, Sadler pushed the lid closed, coughed loudly and patted the vacuum case. And this?'

'Yeah, that. We give it to him. I don't want to hang on to it.'

'You don't mean we're actually doing a legit deal?' asked Cooper, feigning surprise.

Lambert however was genuinely amazed. Okay, so we can sell off the Pel c.r.a.p and make a good profit, but this has to be worth heaps. Can't we just kill him and keep this as well?'

Sadler shook her head. 'What's in here is too powerful. Let him handle it.'

Townsend nodded. 'My sentiments exactly, Sadler. You carry it, okay?'

Yes. Take me. Keep me safe and I will reward you.

'Yes, okay,' she replied.

A few moments later and the four of them, very heavily armed and wearing full Kevlar-8 battle protection outfits, jumped down from the shuttle and headed towards the mountain. Hanging slightly back was Sadler, carrying the vacuum case.

Soon. Soon it will be over. I will be complete. Look after me and you shall have power.

For some reason that she couldn't comprehend, she was feeling very nervous. Frightened, even. It was as if she wasn't in control. For the first time in her life she was feeling . . . manipulated? For what we are about to do . . .

Misquoting prayers had always been one of Bernice's little quirks. Gathered around camp fires (oh, for a piece of real fire and wood right now instead of all this Federation fakery), she and the other archaeologists would frequently find excuses to poke fun at organized ancient religions and work the psalms and gospels to suit any given situation. Clive was always good for running through his pad, finding the Common Bible, ripping out whole pa.s.sages and turning them into lurid and suggestive phrases about the Draconian and his pet wolfweed.

Bernice smiled at the memory. It all seemed so far away.

'You and your Martians,' Clive'd say. One day you'll meet one, fall in love and have to invest in a hatchery!' Bernice would usually clump him with a stick and threaten to bury his latest finds under cement.

If he could see me now, see what I'm about to do.

Hope Savaar's got a sense of humour.

Hope Atissa hasn't! She stood outside the Sacred Temple of Aggedor.

Through the small hole in the wall, she could take it all in. Atissa standing, throwing something into the burners, clouds of incense billowing up.

Savaar, ignominiously bound and shoved into a kneeling position. His cloak had been yanked off and thrown into a corner. Two of Atissa's thugs held swords to his throat.

Bernice knew her Martian philosophy but she understood on only a basic level the complex social patterns of honour and truth that the Martians lived by. Codes of hierarchy and stigma that somehow involved the whole structure of Martian life. Despite its 'Lords and Commoners' trappings, Martian life was rigidly structured so that there was no real 'them' and us', just a traditional belief in it. A curious contradiction, but one that had proved fascinating to Bernice for most of her adult life. She'd always wanted to study that hierarchy in detail but amongst the few things she did understand was that Savaar was enduring almost intolerable humiliation and the potential destruction of honour right now. And she was about to make it worse in an attempt to stop it. Would he thank her or would he kill her? Oh, what the h.e.l.l - what's life without a few risks? Of course, it was quite possible she wouldn't live long enough to carry out her plan: the moment she entered the sacred chamber uninvited, given Atissa's curious blend of blasphemy and intolerance, she might be cut down by a sword-happy Pel guard.

But she owed Savaar. He'd saved the Doctor's life. He'd lied and cheated and already done so much that was considered dishonourable in Martian terms, just to keep the Doctor alive and Atissa fooled. Yeah, she owed him.

She took a breath and pushed through the drape into the sacred temple.

Five heads turned to look at her in complete amazement. The two guards holding Savaar looked up in total astonishment. The third guard, standing by the opposite door to Atissa's personal quarters, drew his sword. Atissa almost dropped her herbs and spices in mute shock.

And Savaar . . .

Savaar seemed totally unresponsive, his eyes hidden behind his helmet, a black tongue flickering around his chapped green lips.

'What do you want?' Atissa said eventually.

'Nothing. Just revenge. Then I'll leave you alone. With the Doctor dead, I have nothing left to stay here for.' Bernice noted Savaar's head droop a fraction - he thinks I don't know the truth. Good. That means it'll be more convincing.

Atissa rolled some herbs between her thumb and forefinger, almost crus.h.i.+ng them to dust particles. 'Get out,' she said.

Bernice shook her head. 'You've got what you wanted, Atissa. Me, Reece, the Pakhars, even Centauri. We're leaving this afternoon. Before your wretched royal ceremony. But I want something in return. I want him!'

Atissa looked at Savaar and smiled. 'No. No, he is ours to destroy. He struck me and stole our sacred relics. Aggedor demands retribution.'

'So do I, Atissa, and my need is greater than your b.l.o.o.d.y statue's.'

Mentally crossing her fingers, Bernice strode to Savaar, pus.h.i.+ng the guards aside. In surprise, they didn't resist. Bernice reached down to Savaar and grabbed at his helmet. She yanked it off his head and stared at his black eyes, darting backwards and forwards.

'What . . . what do you want, Shsurr?'

'I told you before, Savaar, I'm no longer your Shsurr. But for what might have been, given time and some honour clearly lacking in you, take to your afterlife my final gift.'

Bernice reached down, cupped Savaar's huge skull and kissed him savagely on the lips. He tried to resist but she held firm, pressing harder until it hurt, but she went on. After nearly a minute she stepped back, wiping saliva hers or his, she wasn't sure - from her mouth.

He stared back at her in horror. Desecrated. Humiliated. Angry.

'Thank you, Savaar. Thank you for destroying my life as well as the Doctor's.' Bernice rummaged in her chino pocket and produced a Cantryan clip blaster.

'No,' screeched Atissa, but it was too late. Bernice fired, there was a flash of white and Savaar toppled over.

Atissa shook with cold fury, and Bernice brought the blaster up again.

'Forget it, High Priestess. In three hours, we're all out of your life. Don't do anything to upset us or little granite Aggie over there gets a few tusks blown away.'

Atissa's eyes moved from Bernice's gun to the statue of Aggedor. All right, defiler. Get out. Now.'

Bernice waved the gun at Savaar. I want the body. I want to parade it across New Mars, dishonouring his family and proving what a traitor he was.'

One of the guards moved over to Savaar and a second later reported to Atissa that the Martian High Lord was indeed dead.

'You can leave, Summerfield. Take this alien trash with you.' Atissa indicated for the guards to hoist Savaar's body up.

'Thank you, High Priestess. If you can dump him in the Federation Representatives' room, that'd be just dandy.' Bernice led the way out.

Watching them go, Atissa grinned. The obstacles were dropping like flies.

Next - the king. Then it was all hers.

She patted the statue of Aggedor. 'Soon. Very, very soon.'

Keri was bustling around, trying to get her crew and equipment all together.

She called out to one of the audio engineers to ask if Neal Corry had returned yet. No sign.

'd.a.m.n him, yeah! Where the h.e.l.l is he?' As she hurried through the corridors of the Citadel, Keri's mind was racing. If the Doctor's plan was working, there should be some action quite soon. Her professional instincts cried out that she should be preparing to holo the whole lot. But with no Corry, it fell to her to rally her team. Their protection was more important than any GFTV-3 story and while Peladon was falling into the file marked 'Hostile World', she was better off getting everyone out alive.

'd.a.m.n stupid planet, yeah!'

Kort was sitting, literally kicking his heels when the doors of the Federation Representatives' room burst open. An entourage of Pels entered, carrying the prostrate form of High Lord Savaar. Kort leaped up as they none-too-carefully deposited his huge frame upon the table. The boy stared at the helmet-less face aghast. He'd never seen a Martian like this before.