Part 20 (1/2)

He wasn't coming back at least, not immediately, that much was apparent. Ace was tempted to try every control on the machine, but she somehow doubted that would help. She was still trying to decide what would help when Fortalexa's voice almost made her jump.

'What are you doing here?' His voice was angry, his eyes sharp.

'Sorry,' said Ace despite herself. She was annoyed she had let him get so close without hearing his approach. She must have been very deep in thought, although she had to admit he did move very quietly. She watched as he crossed the room towards her, his feet barely seeming to touch the floor.

'You haven't been fiddling, have you?'

'I haven't touched anything,' Ace snapped back. 'I just came to see how you were getting on. In case you needed any help.'

'Thank you, but I have everything I need.' Fortalexa began to tap out a complicated sequence on the machine's keypad. He seemed to have forgotten Ace.

'And how's it going?'

'Fine.' He continued without looking up.

'So we'll actually get a performance of this play tomorrow, will we?'

Fortalexa's head snapped up and he fixed Ace in a steady stare: The performance will take place as planned. Everything is going according to plan. Exactly according to plan.'

'Okay, okay keep your hair on.' Ace backed away worried by the intensity of his response. 'I'll leave you to it, all right?'

Fortalexa watched her to the door, then his attention flicked back to the machine, almost as if a switch had been thrown in his mind.

Ace frowned and bit lightly at the inside of her cheek. 'I say,' she called over experimentally, 'my dog has no nose.'

'I am sorry to hear that,' Fortalexa replied without s.h.i.+fting his attention. 'If you will excuse me, I am rather busy.'

'Sure,' said Ace. 'Sure you are.' And she left him to it.

The honour was about the highest he could ever had wished for, and Klasvik hated every second of it. If he could have left, he would have done. As it was he tried to keep his face from betraying his feelings and his mouth from doing anything other than eat the food. Fortunately they each had a set of dishes, so he need not ask for anything to be pa.s.sed.

Although its corners were hidden, receding into the gloom, the room was large, rectangular and featureless. So was the table where the main light was focused. It was obviously intended to seat far more than four people. There were more than four people in the room, of course the unending stream of waiters, Marlock's bodyguards and the alert men standing behind the Exec's chair, hands permanently on the b.u.t.ts of their disruptors, eyes forever glancing round the room.

Klasvik sat at the middle of one of the long sides of the table, so he would have had to shout to make himself heard by the Exec or Marlock, who sat at opposite ends. Marlock had no trouble making his comments heard throughout the room effortless shouting was an art that Marlock seemed to have perfected long ago.

Lannic had been sitting opposite Klasvik, but she had slowly shuffled her chair closer and closer to the Exec during the meal, until now she sat almost at his right hand. Klasvik had tried not to show his disgust at these manoeuvrings, while Marlock had all but leered down the table at Lannic.

Klasvik had to admit to himself that Lannic was an attractive woman. Especially since she had changed out of her coverall. Klasvik was more than conscious that he was still wearing his. He wondered where Lannic had found her new clothes n.o.body had offered him any. He thought he was lucky to have found a shower.

Lannic was radiant. She was wearing a simple knee*length dress, sleeveless and with no flourishes or other adornment. The dress was a colour which seemed to alternate between black and silver depending on where the light caught it. The effect was to create artificial shadows at every contour and so emphasize the shape of the curves in Lannic's body. Klasvik might have been quite smitten, had he not been feeling so nauseated.

The effect on the others was easy to read. Marlock was amused by the whole thing, but at the same time could hardly keep from s...o...b..ring; the male guards and waiters were having trouble keeping a straight face when Lannic stretched or crossed her legs (both of which she did frequently). The Exec was head over heels in l.u.s.t..

Klasvik was not sure what made him feel most sick, the way the Exec ate with his mouth open, dripping food and drink in equal quant.i.ties back on to the table, or Lannic obvious fawning and flirting. He concentrated on his piksya.s.si, trying to tease strands of it from the uvinza sauce.

He tried not to look up as Lannic laughed loudly at yet another inane comment from the Exec as he questioned her about the expedition and Menaxus. He could imagine her leaning back, letting her hair hang to one side as she c.o.c.ked her head and brought up a stockinged knee clasped between her folded hands. He could see the Exec from the corner of his eye as the greasy young idiot leaned obviously forward for a better glimpse of leg.

Klasvik looked away in disgust, and found Marlock watching him. The Manact had a wide grin across his face. He nodded down the table towards the Exec and Lannic raising an eyebrow as he tried to draw Klasvik into scene. Klasvik looked down at his food, embarra.s.sed and heard Marlock's laughter join with Lannic's and Exec's.

The delta dart was certainly nippy. But even so, it would be another few hours before Bernice had to worry about the defence s.h.i.+elds and sat*strikers positioned round Heletia. For the moment she had only to worry about avoiding units which might have strayed from a war which was being prosecuted pa.r.s.ecs away, but closing ever nearer. The Heletians would make their consolidation stand at Nichoria by all accounts. And by those same accounts, It would be a b.l.o.o.d.y affair drawn out over years.

She checked the charts again, looking for a more direct route which did not involve too much risk. But she knew there wasn't one.

All the corridors and all the rooms in the place looked much the same. Grey, drab, concrete, boring. Only the variety of posters framed in silver on the walls broke the monotony. Ace was just about to give up finding anything of interest and return to her quarters to wait for the Doctor to reappear when a short fat man bustled down the corridor towards her. He seemed familiar. Ace stepped aside to allow him plenty of room, but the man still managed to brush against her.

'Second door on the left ahead of you,' he whisper as his face pa.s.sed close to Ace's shoulder. 'I'll be there soon.'

Ace tried to give no indication that she had heard. The man obviously did not wish anyone to know he had spoken to her. Equally, Ace was not at all sure she wanted anyone knowing that she was being offered a.s.signations with a short, fat, bald man who she hoped was too old to be her father.

Nevertheless when she reached the second door on the left, she opened it and went through. She hoped it looked natural as if she had been wandering aimlessly down the corridor with the single intention of entering this room.

Except that it seemed to be the Heletian equivalent of a broom cupboard. The light had come on automatically as she entered, and she wondered how the fat man would find room to fit in with her. She soon found out.

'Thank you,' the fat man breathed heavily as he squeezed himself into the small room beside Ace.

'I haven't done anything yet,' Ace told him, wis.h.i.+ng she had not included the 'yet'.

'You are here. That is enough.' Even within the confines of the room, he was glancing nervously around.

'Wait a minute.' Ace realized where she had seen him before. 'You're the commissionaire of wherever it is, aren't you?'

'Arbela, yes.' He glanced round again, licking his dry lips and swallowing. 'I really wanted to talk to your friend the Doctor he intervened with the Exec to help my people.'

'Yeah, he does that sort of thing. But I'm afraid he's, er, unavailable right now.'

The commissionaire nodded as if he quite understood, though Ace was certain he didn't. 'Never mind. You can take a message to him.'

'Now wait a minute, I'm not his secretary or anything.'

'Please please, we want him, both of you in fact, to join us.'

'Doing what?' asked Ace, but she thought she could guess.

'Not all of us are in favour of prolonging the war. Or even of having a war at all. If only we can speak to the Exec, make him see reason, we can sue for peace.' His eyes were large and watery as he looked up at Ace.

'He didn't look the peaceful type.'

'He's only a boy. He was seven when this war started. Marlock is the real power.'

Ace laughed. 'That much should be obvious even to a seven*year*old.'

'But not to the Exec. If we can get to him, talk him, without Marlock being there better still if we can have Marlock sent away somewhere on a fool's errand then maybe we can reason with the boy.'

'And you want the Doctor to help?'