Part 24 (2/2)

Whose stupid idea had it been to come to Earth in this era in the first place?

Oh yeah. Hers.

The flitter emerged into a rainstorm at the bottom of an immense inverted cone. Clouds diffused the sunlight into a pearly glow. Forrester angled their 150path to hug the block's sides as they headed downwards. Within moments they were clear of the block and heading down towards the darkness, the ca.n.a.ls, bridges, old buildings and perpetual rain of the Undertown.

Forrester took them down as fast as she could, plummeting like a hawk after a mouse until she was barely ten metres from the surface of the ca.n.a.l. Just as Bernice was about to suggest that it might be a good idea if they levelled out NOW! NOW! thank you very much, she pulled them out of the dive and screamed left into an alley perpendicular to the one that they had been heading for. thank you very much, she pulled them out of the dive and screamed left into an alley perpendicular to the one that they had been heading for.

'Should shake off anybody watching,' she shouted over her shoulder.

'Fooled me,' Bernice yelled back, 'and I was sitting here.'

The walls of the alleyway were buildings that Bernice dated to the late twenty-first century. It was a shame her first close-up view of the Undertown was under circ.u.mstances where she couldn't really stop to sightsee. A domed church that must have been seventeenth-century at the latest flashed past, followed by a stretch of transparicrete webbed with fine cracks. This place was an architectural archaeologist's vision of heaven.

'How's Chr Cwej?'

Bernice forced herself to look down. His exposed skin was blistering almost as she watched, and the cracked areas were weeping a clear fluid. She didn't dare remove any of the ragged remnants of his robes or armour they looked as if they'd melted into his flesh.

'I've seen worse,' she replied, and then, quieter, 'but not recently.'

'Not long now.'

The flitter was skimming so close to the surface of the water that it was throwing up arcs of silver spray. Privately Bernice wondered if that wasn't likely to draw attention to them, but Forrester seemed to know what she was doing. Of course, the Doctor always seemed to know what he was doing, but Bernice knew how deceptive that was.

The flitter slowed, settling onto the water. Forrester coasted up to a metal jetty that projected out from a brick walkway beneath an arched bridge. She opened the canopy. Keeping the engine running, she said, 'Quick, pull him out. I want to set this thing going as fast as possible.'

'Look, he's inju'

'I know what he is, but if you don't get him out fast then we'll all be dead.

Would that improve his condition?'

'It couldn't make it much worse,' Bernice muttered as she carefully lifted Cwej onto the jetty. Forrester ran her hands quickly over the controls, then leaped out to join Bernice.

'That should help,' she said as the flitter's engines roared, and it rose steadily into the sky. 'I've set it on a random flight plan. With luck, n.o.body will ever be able to track us back here.'

151.'Where's this Dantalion then?'

Forrester glanced around, orienting herself, and then pointed to a small side alley.

'Right now? Down there.'

Beltempest dreamed.

After entering the unreal realm of hypers.p.a.ce and setting the controls to automatic, he had darkened the visor of his s.p.a.cesuit and turned off the external audio sensors. The flickering lights, the little noises, they had all been bothering him. He'd lost count of the number of times he had whirled around, screamer rifle at the ready, just knowing that Pryce was behind him, long fingernails extended towards his eyes. Twice he had only just managed to stop himself blasting a hole in the door. He kept telling himself how stupid he was being there was no way that Pryce could get through the bulkhead to him but it did no good. He was so much on edge he was becoming a safety hazard.

Eventually he had realized that the only answer was to turn off every source of disturbance, and drift. Meditate. Relax.

For a while, as he sat listening to the rasp of his breathing and the inter-mittent beep of the life-support system, he had imagined he could hear a faint giggling in the distance, or feel thuds and crashes transmitted through the bulkhead as Pryce dismembered the Doctor, but gradually his fingers had relaxed their grip on the guns, and his mind had let go.

And he dreamed of a time before his name was Beltempest.

Sunset was a crimson slash across the soft underbelly of the clouds as he approached the cliff-faced rear of the laboratory.

'Ready?' he snapped.

'Ready, sir,' the under-sergeant said behind him. He turned. The troops were already in attack formation, spread out across the albino lawn with their weapons at the ready. Stunners only, of course. They wanted the professor alive. at the ready. Stunners only, of course. They wanted the professor alive.

He checked his chronometer. Perfect timing. The captain should be on the simcord to Pryce, keeping him occupied while the Landsknechte went in through the back. He didn't like sneaking around, but n.o.body knew what sort of weaponry back. He didn't like sneaking around, but n.o.body knew what sort of weaponry Pryce had been working on in there. Pryce had been working on in there.

'Okay, let's go.'

He had the only destructive weapon: an industrial blaster with a beam focus point six feet from the barrel. Quickly he made four precise cuts in the shape of point six feet from the barrel. Quickly he made four precise cuts in the shape of a door. The adamantium wall glowed, and a rectangular section fell, towards a door. The adamantium wall glowed, and a rectangular section fell, towards him. Two Landsknechte ran in to catch it before it hit the lawn. A third took the him. Two Landsknechte ran in to catch it before it hit the lawn. A third took the blaster. blaster.

He led the way into the darkened building.

That was a mistake.

152.His bepple-enhanced infrared vision scanned the darkness, picking out hot spots. Human-shaped hot spots. He unholstered his stunner, but they weren't spots. Human-shaped hot spots. He unholstered his stunner, but they weren't moving. There was something odd about them; they looked like bundles of moving. There was something odd about them; they looked like bundles of spaghetti wrapped around narrow, rigid tubes. Moving closer, he switched his spaghetti wrapped around narrow, rigid tubes. Moving closer, he switched his flashlight on. flashlight on.

Blood pumped through sagging arteries that were draped around human skeletons. Black nerve fibres like spiders' webs enveloped the bodies. Eyeb.a.l.l.s rolled in soundless agony. soundless agony.

He didn't hear the sound of the stunners behind him, or realize until much, much later quite how close Professor Zebulon Pryce and his vibroknife had got to much later quite how close Professor Zebulon Pryce and his vibroknife had got to the back of his neck. All he did was scream as he realized what Professor Zebulon the back of his neck. All he did was scream as he realized what Professor Zebulon Pryce had done to his friends. And scream. And . . . Pryce had done to his friends. And scream. And . . .

. . . Screaming an alert signal into his ear. Beltempest jerked awake, flailing his four arms for a moment, dropping his guns all over the floor. He whirled, expecting Pryce to be standing behind him, but the cabin was empty. The alarm shrilled on. His eyes scanned the controls, desperately searching for the problem. Life-support okay. Power levels okay. Hypers.p.a.ce engines . . . off line.

He raised his eyes to the simcord screen, dreading what he would find.

Black s.p.a.ce, and stars.

They had left hypers.p.a.ce.

And directly in front of them sat an old, battered wars.h.i.+p of very alien design.

Beltempest flicked on the switch that patched him into the s.h.i.+p's communications net. 'Doctor?' he said. 'Prepare yourself. We have guests.'

153.

Chapter 11.

'ease do not adjust your receiver. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. Please do not adjust your receiver. Normal service soon as possible. Please do not adjust your receiver. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. Please do not adj' will be resumed as soon as possible. Please do not adj'

Dantalion's lair was a sixteenth-century church sandwiched between two late twenty-seventh-century oxygen factories. Forrester didn't bother knocking.

Instead she just kicked the rotting wooden door in. Or, at least, she tried to kick the rotting wooden door in. The door stayed where it was, while she rebounded, swearing.

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