Part 3 (1/2)

Oddly, they were getting some dark looks from the humans, although there were a few races who were intermingling quite happily with the humans, including one with a blue warty skin, four blank orbs that might have been eyes and a ruff of coa.r.s.e red hair around the neck.

'What race is that?' she said, nodding towards the alien.

The Doctor followed her gaze, and frowned. 'I'm not sure,' he admitted, squinting at the being as it pa.s.sed them by. 'I don't recognize it at all.' His face suddenly cleared, and he cried: 'Of course! It's not an alien at all. It's human!'

'Human?' Bernice wasn't sure that she had heard correctly. 'What is it, Mardi Gras?'

'No.' The Doctor watched the alien's receding form. 'Genetic alteration. I think the trade name is ”body-bepple”. Quite easy, if you know what you're doing.'

'But why would you want to?'

'Why would you want to wear high heels?'

'I don't.'

'No, but if you did.'

'Haven't got a clue. Fas.h.i.+on, I guess.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Exactly. Fas.h.i.+on.'

'So how does it work?'

'Well,' he mused, 'on the basis that all cells in the human body except for brain cells are replaced every three months or so, if you can stick a specific mutagen onto a targeted virus, you can alter your body quite significantly.

Within the general design limitations of the human body, of course. Interesting: I hadn't expected humanity to be quite this far advanced. Probably the Wars.'

'The Wars?' Bernice asked as the walkway took them out of the tower and into the open air.

'Indeed. Earth is in an expanding Empire phase at the moment. The Wars of Acquisition only ended a few years ago, when the Sense-Sphere finally capitu-lated. After a few years of austerity, there was an economic and technological upsurge. The current era is characterized by an intense hatred of aliens in person exceeded in intensity only by a desire for anything actually alien food, artwork, fas.h.i.+on, et cetera. It's a common pattern. Impose sanctions and restraints on a growing culture for a few years, then suddenly take them away and watch the culture expand rapidly. Bacteria do the same.'

Bernice looked around at the forest of elegant, needle-like buildings sprout-ing from a dark jumble of shadows and cloud. 'Yes, but bacteria don't build floating skysc.r.a.pers and moving walkways,' she said.

'Ah, well, the Minorith of Barrab Major '21.

'Doctor?'

'Yes, Bernice?'

'Shut up.'

Adjudicator Secular Ras.h.i.+d's office occupied the whole of one raft. Never one to ignore the opportunities offered by technology, she had perfected the twin arts of computerization and delegation to such a degree that her job involved no physical paperwork at all, freeing her to plan her office for comfort rather than efficiency. In her current form one beppled to resemble a cla.s.sical musician named Elvis Presley she seemed to spend most of her time striking poses and waxing her quiff.

When Forrester and Cwej entered, she was standing beside the sofa, blowing up a small inflatable ring. With no noticeable embarra.s.sment she sat down gingerly, shoving the cus.h.i.+on beneath her robes. She curled her lip with pleasure.

'Justice . . . ' she said in greeting. 'Piles are giving me gyp. Must be the heat.

You wouldn't believe.' She looked Forrester and Cwej over. 'You're late.'

'And fairness be your friend. They moved the ' Forrester started to say.

'Don't want to know.' Ras.h.i.+d gave Cwej another glance, and frowned. He smiled sunnily back. 'Who's this?'

'This is Cwej.'

'Reporting for duty, sir!' Cwej said cheerily.

Ras.h.i.+d and Forrester exchanged glances.

'Keen, isn't he?' Ras.h.i.+d said.

Forrester decided to get out while the going was good. 'Adjudicator Secular, if there's nothing you want to see me for, I'll mosey across and grab some breakfast '

Ras.h.i.+d smiled. 'Not so fast. Glad you're here. Saved me calling for you.'

Forrester felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.

'Cwej here is your new squire,' Ras.h.i.+d continued.

Forrester glanced across at Cwej. To give the guy his due, his expression fell slightly at the news. Just slightly, but it made Forrester feel a lot better.

'Oh good,' she said.

'Nice to know you,' Cwej said, recovering his sunny smile and holding out a hand. Forrester looked at it for a long moment, then shook it.

'Now that the pleasantries are over,' said Ras.h.i.+d, 'get your a.r.s.es across to District Five. Been a murder. Only an offworlder, but we've got to go through the formalities. Securitybot happened to be pa.s.sing by on patrol just after it happened. Suspect's being held.'

Forrester frowned. 'Another one? What's going on?'

'Just get over there. Centcomp'll have the details.'22.

'Adjudicator Secular, we must be batting way over the stats here. How many murders have we had this month? Fifty? Sixty? We usually average ten a month, max. Something's going down.'

'All solved, though. Even the offworlders.'

'That's not the point.'

'Tell me about it,' Ras.h.i.+d grumbled, s.h.i.+fting position on the cus.h.i.+on. 'Ul-cers are playing merry h.e.l.l. Not just the Undertown, either. Lodges up top are reporting an increase in crimes of violence. Had another one this morning: some company executive cut a guy's head off with a laser. The killer's hysterical now: claims she doesn't know why she did it. Centcomp says we're dead on the percentages, though. Nothing unusual. Probably a freak statistical spike. Just get out there and pull in the suspect.'

They got.

The room was dark, apart from the glow of a desk-screen. A pair of fat hands was clasped across the surface of the desk, appearing to hover above the stream of images and data that spurted, too fast for the human eye to follow, within its crystalline depths.

The hands suddenly jerked, the fingers separating convulsively. Slowly they caressed the surface of the desk.

'So,' a voice crooned smugly in the darkness, 'you return again to our little planet, Doctor, with a new face and a new friend. You must find us very interesting indeed. Almost as interesting, perhaps, as I find you. You and your fascinating and, I must say, refres.h.i.+ngly anachronistic craft.'