Part 18 (2/2)

'So, you see the error of your ways. But too late Doctor.'

'Error? Not at all. But if you are to execute me as an example to those who question your authority or who interrupt your ranting, then you should do it here and now.' He stuck his chin out and folded his arms, planting his feet firmly either side of his discarded hat. 'I insist.'

Ace watched surprised as the Exec took a step backwards. 'Here?' He sounded unsure, worried. 'Now!'

'Yes. In fact, to make a proper job of it, you'd best do it yourself.' The Doctor nodded to the door guard who had approached him. His disruptor was already drawn and inclining his head slightly he made to hand it to the Exec.

The Exec flinched as if struck and leaped back on to his podium, taking refuge behind his desk. 'No. I have I have changed my mind.'

'Oh?' The Doctor sounded disappointed.

'Yes. Too many executions may be...'

'Counter*productive? Might begin to upset those loyal citizens who have no intention of rebelling or causing trouble?'

'Quite.' The Exec nodded quickly.

'I see.' The Doctor stepped back to join Ace. Almost as an afterthought he called back: 'So, you'll be repealing the execution orders on the good people of Arbela then.'

'What?'

Ace watched as the Doctor went into his I'm-sorry-I-thought*it*was*obvious I'm-sorry-I-thought*it*was*obvious routine. 'But surely you've decided that too many executions may be counter*productive and might begin to upset those loyal citizens who have no intention of rebelling or causing trouble?' routine. 'But surely you've decided that too many executions may be counter*productive and might begin to upset those loyal citizens who have no intention of rebelling or causing trouble?'

The Exec gulped and looked across to Marlock for help, but the Manact was sitting with his face in his hands, shaking his head slowly as if in disbelief. 'Quite, quite to it, Commissionaire,' the Exec said faintly when he saw there was no help coming. 'Er, the matter of the Menaxan expedition,' he went on quickly. 'A report, I believe, from ' he hunted through the papers again, 'from Camarina Lannic.' The Exec looked round expectantly, and Lannic stepped forward.

She bowed formal and low. Ace thought for a moment she was going to curtsy and suppressed a giggle of humour and relief. The meeting seemed to have changed direction, 'My lord Exec,' Lannic's voice was sticky sweet and submissive, Ace looked closely, but she seemed completely sincere. 'It is my honour to report our excavations as a triumphant success.'

'Oh'The Exec clearly was surprised that something had gone well. He also seemed smitten by Lannic's att.i.tude. 'Good. Well done.'

Ace caught the Doctor's eye and mimed sticking her index finger down her throat. The Doctor shrugged: he clearly did not know what Lannic was up to either.

'At great risk and suffering heavy losses we have secured and brought back a wonderful gift.'

'A gift? For me?' A note of suspicion crept into the Exec's voice. 'What is it?'

'It is a machine a dream of a machine. It presents virtual*reality*enhanced images of plays.'

Marlock snorted. 'You call that a dream? The Exec can order a real play any time he wishes. With a cast of his choosing. He has no need of a simple holo*projector. We might as well watch a celluloid for all the soul and immediacy you offer.' He leaned forward in his chair and snarled: 'Or is this an audition for the starring role in the The Execution of Segestus The Execution of Segestus?'

Lannic bowed again. 'I meant no disrespect, sir. But the machine I mentioned is pre*programmed with several plays which may interest the Exec.'

'Such as?'

'Such as The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers, sir.'

The room went quiet. 'Is this true?' asked the Exec in a hushed voice.

Lannic nodded. 'We believe we can operate the machine and present a performance. Perhaps in the royal theatre?'

'Have you seen the play this machine projects?' asked Marlock.

'We've seen Hamlet Hamlet,' offered the Doctor cheerily. 'Well, bits of him anyway.'

Lannic answered to the Exec. 'We would not presume to watch Osterling's masterpiece ahead of yourself. n.o.body should see The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers until it is presented to the Exec of Helatia.' until it is presented to the Exec of Helatia.'

'Quite quite right.' The Exec still looked a little pale from the news But his voice was regaining what little strength it usually had. 'No one shall see the play before we do ourselves. When can it be presented?'

Portalexa answered stiffly. 'We can set up the machine tonight and have it ready for a command performance tomorrow evening.'

'Very well,' Marlock said before the Exec could respond. 'Tomorrow night in the royal theatre. See to it.' With that he stood up, descended the steps from the stage and went to the door, standing beside it as the guards swung it open. He made no effort to leave, but his meaning was obvious and the courtiers began to file out.

'This audience is at an end,' the Exec said, a little late and apparently a little surprised. Marlock smiled at him, the scar down his face stretching with the movement of the skin. 'Wait,' the Exec continued and Marlock's smile froze. 'Go and prepare for the performance,' he said to Fortalexa, who bowed and left. 'Lannic, will you and your a.s.sociates stay and tell me more about your expedition?'

Klasvik looked worried at the prospect, but Lannic's whole face seemed to light up and her eyelids fluttered with joy.

'Come on, Doctor,' Ace nudged him. 'Let's go and help Fortalexa before we throw up.'

Marlock stopped them at the door, standing in their way as they tried to leave.

'Enjoy a good play, do you, Marlock?' asked the Doctor politely. 'Keeps the Exec out of your way for a while so you can get on with the war for him, I suppose.'

'Be careful, Doctor,' Marlock replied quietly. 'You may be too clever for our own good.' Then he stepped aside, his mouth set in a smile. But his eyes were harsh and humourless.

The Doctor and Ace had been allocated adjoining rooms. These rooms were as bland and functional as the green room. In common with all the other rooms Ace had seen they had no windows, just several framed posters announcing plays she had never heard of starring actors and actresses she had never heard of either. But despite the splashes of colour the posters offered she was beginning to think of the whole establishment as more of a bunker than a palace.

They were in the Doctor's room. The Doctor was sitting on the single upright plastic chair, which he had pulled from under the single plastic table, and Ace was lying on the bed, her hands behind her head. The smartbomb she had retrieved from her own room lay quietly in her pocket.

'Going to the play?' Ace asked.

'I doubt if we'll get any choice.'

'Oh. Is it any good?'

The Doctor smiled. 'Bit boring in the middle I seem to remember. You'll like the ending though very violent.'

'Should suit that screwed*up cretin Exec down to the ground.' She sat up suddenly, biting back her words and looking round the room.

'It's all right. I've already checked for bugs.'

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