Part 26 (2/2)

'Where are the others?'

'We don't know the only s.h.i.+ps we have contact with are those near the Gap.'

'So they could be on their way as well.'

The technician nodded. 'Could well be, We won't know till one of our s.h.i.+ps or a sat*station makes contact.'

'Great. Let's hope they're just regrouping. At least the kill*sats will keep the Gap secure.' Petralona was not in a position to take much counteraction. The commanders in the field would have more up*to*date information and would be co*ordinating their response through the local net. Only the Exec or the Manact could send a direct order.

'Another two,' the com*net operator called across. 'One of them is a mine destroyer.'

'S'blood. They're going for the Gap.'

'But the kill*sats are proimity devices, a destroyer won't get close enough to wipe them,' the technician pointed out. 'And if it sends probes the sats will trace them back to the parent vessel and take it out anyway. The mines would have to be deactivated before they could clear a path through.'

'That may be,' Petralona told him, 'but there's no other explanation.'

'Then we should tell the Manact,' the operator said.

'Who asked you?' Petralona was beginning to panic. It didn't help that the rest of the staff in the war room were paying close attention to what was happening by the situation display.

'What else can we do?'

'He'd kill us,' the technicians said, and he meant it.

Petrolona agreed. If they interrupted the all*important performance of The Good Soldiers The Good Soldiers with some vague notion that the Rippeareans might be about to risk two*thirds of their fleet by driving it through a minefield, he might very well execute them all for their trouble. But if the Rippeareans were about to deactivate the field somehow, and they did not raise the alarm... with some vague notion that the Rippeareans might be about to risk two*thirds of their fleet by driving it through a minefield, he might very well execute them all for their trouble. But if the Rippeareans were about to deactivate the field somehow, and they did not raise the alarm...

She made her decision. 'The field commanders will handle it. Have their communications relayed direct through the net. We'll lag behind, but we should get warning of what's happening if anything goes wrong. Warn the fleet protagonist of our concerns, and monitor the status of the sats positioned within the Gap. If anything more happens, I'll contact the Manact.'

'If anything more happens?' The operator was on his feet, headset abandoned at his station. 'What more are you waiting for an advance in force? Never mind trying to hold them on the perimeter and forcing them to take months negotiating a path round the Surralian system, if they come through the Gap they'll be here in hours.'

'Sit down,' Petrolona shouted. She could feel a nerve ticking by her right eye. 'The field commanders will handle it. They're just regrouping all right?' She looked up at the status display. Another three transponders joined the ma.s.s on the other side of the Gap. The area was almost whited out with their tiny lights. 'They're just regrouping,' she repeated. 'They can't get through.'

The communications suite was a relatively small room off the same corridor as the war room. All that happened there was that messages to and from the war room were relayed through a booster and directed to or received from the appropriate satellite orbiting Heletia. The process was automatic and computer*controlled. As with all automatic processes, it required the presence of someone to monitor it and ensure that everything work.

That someone was at the moment Junior Technician Cha.s.sada. He was not yet eighteen, and had just completed training. He was due for a posting any time now but was hoping the war would be over before he got to it. They were talking months rather than years in the barracks, but even so he would probably still see action. If he was lucky he would live to regret it.

The door behind him opened and he turned to see who it was. He was not due to be relieved for another few hours yet. It was a woman: tall, slim, with short dark hair and a wide smile.

'h.e.l.lo,' she said. 'I'm fascinated by technology. Mind if I sit in?'

Cha.s.sada was at a loss for words as he pulled up the spare chair and joined him beside the main monitor. 'I'm not sure you should be here,' he eventually managed to say. And he quickly checked his disruptor was in its holster on his hip.

'Oh nonsense.' She leaned forwards and pointed at an area of the screen in front of them. 'What does this do?' she asked. The womans's chest was perilously close to his face as she leaned across, and he could not help but notice that the top few b.u.t.tons of her brushed denim jumpsuit were undone.

Cha.s.sada had to lean round her to see what she was pointing at. Strangely it seemed to be a blank area of the screen. He was confused and distracted, so did not immediately appreciate the significance of the slight tug at his waistband as the woman smiled warmly a him.

He recalled just too late that his holster was on the same side as the woman, and in a sudden panic he reached for his side*arm. His holster was empty. For a split*second he wondered where his disruptor had gone. Then it hit him.

The play had finished. The actors were taking their bow. They still wore their masks and cloaks. In may ways they presented a similar profile to Jorvik, except that all the players were tall and well*built. Jorvik was slight and noticeably shorter.

The reaction from the six comrades was mixed. Jorvik clapped loudly and stood up to join the players as they faced the other survivors of Limlough. But his comrades were less appreciative. Teel and Spidler exchanged glum looks. Prator and Freppon clapped without enthusiasm. Remek sat staring at the stage. He made no attempt to applaud, his face was emotionless.

Jorvik held up his hands for silence, and the desultory applause died out. 'My friends,' he said, arms outstretched open and giving and his face still hidden in the shadow of his hooded cloak. 'The final act.' And he stepped out of the way of the makes.h.i.+ft stage.

In a single movement the players pulled off their masks, threw off their cloaks. The comrades leapt to their feet, Teel already running towards the door. Only Remek remained seated, nodding sadly as Jorvik's laughter rang round the great hall of the fortress of Limlough and the Samrong robots who had performed the play stepped from the stage. Prator drew his sword and sliced at the nearest of the robots. The blade splintered on the robot's metal frame and Prator staggered back, his arms ringing from the blow. The robot advanced on him, the heavy pike it carried lowered and ready to strike.

Teel reached the door just as it gave way. The heavy wood split across and crashed to the floor. He staggered to a halt just short of the debris, his eyes widening as the Samrong warriors charged in at him, the firelight from the torches round the walls reflected off their burnished limbs.

Before he could get clear, the first two robots through the door grabbed his arms, twisting them up behind his back. His head was thrust forward over the back of a chair. Then, from the line of robots marching into the room, the executioner stepped forward. His eyes were burning holes in the metal skull as he raised the axe high above his head. Teel's screams echoed round the hall as the axe began to swing slowly towards him. For a moment it paused at its apogee, then gravity gave it one more little pull and the blade continued over and down. It gathered momentum as it went and slammed into his neck with a slapping squelch that echoed round the theatre, adding to the sound of Jorvik's laughter.

Ace almost rubbed the back of her neck in sympathy, but caught herself just in time. She need not have worried; the guard along with the rest of the audience was transfixed by the action on the stage.

In moments the ma.s.sacre was over. The Samrong robots gathered round Jorvik at the edge of the stage. The audience waited for Jorvik's famous soliloquy: many of them knew the first few sentences as reconstructed from Findlater's parody. But before he spoke, the Samrong robots who had performed the play stepped from the stage.

The guard near to Ace drew his disruptor, worried, and staggered back in surprise. The robot advanced on him, the heavy pike it carried lowered and ready to strike. The guard fired, but the energy bolt shattered and dispersed across the robot's metal frame.

Ace pulled free of her restraints; the audience behind her was already starting to panic. She could hear the sound of the people pus.h.i.+ng along the rows of seats, trampling across each other trying to escape before she saw the chaos.

Through it all the Doctor sat calm and silent, watching the stage.

The guard turned to run but before he could get clear the first two robots off the stage grabbed his arms, twisting them up behind his back. His head was thrust forward over the edge of the stage. Then from the line of robots marching into the auditorium, the executioner stepped forward. His eyes were burning holes in the metal skull as he raised the axe high above his head. The guard's screams echoed round the theatre as the axe began to swing slowly towards him. For a moment it paused at its apogee, then Jorvik stepped to the edge of the stage and spoke.

'The play is spent; the act is done.'

The effect of his first words was immediate. The robots stopped their advance, staggered forward slightly and then swayed back. The few people still fighting to get out of the theatre stopped and listened to Jorvik's voice despite their panic. Some began to sit down again, believing the whole thing to be a clever staging technique, but most were already trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the theatre.

'Time makes honest brokers of us all. And Time in turn brings in his revenges. Now am I naked, my soul laid bare. My deeds are all confessed. Time has undone me as it destroys everything.'

The robots remained frozen. The small audience slowly calmed, the remaining people either returning to their seats or stopping where they were. Ace could hear several of those familiar with the reconstruction of the speech exchanging hushed whispers this was nothing like it should be.

A single spotlight illuminated Jorvik now. The shadow of the brim of his hat still hid his eyes, but his mouth was visible as his speech continued, a single area of pallidity in his dark figure.'

'Like the innocent and the beautiful, we have no enemy but Time. And we cannot call back yesterday, nor bid Time return. We talk of killing Time, while Time quietly kills us. Time watches from the shadows, antiquates antiquities; coughs when we would kiss. Time fells the mighty and quells the dragon's wrath.'

The theatre was silent apart from Jorvik's voice. His words were clear despite the slight slurr in his voice. The Samrong robots at the foot of the stage began to sway as if in time to his words. It seemed to Ace that as the speech went on they were getting older, their metal frames tarnis.h.i.+ng. As she watched, a patch of rust began slowly to form on the shoulder of the robot nearest her. The executioner's axe, still held aloft poised at its highest point swayed and fell heavily to the floor. It buried itself in the fabric of a seat and the guard tore himself free of the two robots still holding his arms. He ran from the theatre, his disruptor clattering to the floor as he went.

n.o.body watched him go. They were entranced by Jorvik's words and enthralled by the effect they were having.

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