Part 21 (1/2)

It was going to be a long wait.

'What are you doing now?'

Keri put down her fibre-optic screw-head as gently as she could. The brat had been asking questions solidly for about thirty minutes now - each one of them she'd answered in decreasing lengths, realizing that it was boredom and not interest that was keeping his jaw muscles active.

'Just wait and see, yeah?' was the best she could manage.

She looked up slightly, rubbing a whisker or two and saw that the brat had wandered away and was punching up some codes on the shuttle's dispenser.

'What are you doing now, yeah?'

The brat turned around, two steaming mugs of cocoa in his hands. He could barely carry the giant Martian mugs but was determined not to show it. Keri allowed herself to relax and smile a thank-you as he pa.s.sed one over.

I can tell I'm annoying you,' he said.

Keri swallowed a hot mouthful and shook her head. It's not that, Kort. It's just -'

Kort put up a hand. Oh, don't bother. I'm well aware of my faults. My father points them out with alarming frequency. It's just that I feel . . . well, useless right now.'

'Look, Kort. I can't help you with that now. Yes, in what I'm trying to do here you're right. You're completely useless. No bull, okay? But you got us here.

You accessed the computer files. You convinced that pilot not to sonic us out of existence, yeah? Now you've done your bit and I'm doing mine.

That's teamwork. Knowing what to do and when, yeah?'

Kort didn't look convinced but he nodded.

'Good,' said Keri. 'Now back to work. You keep me fed and watered, yeah?'

Geban was feeling very uncomfortable.

All round him his world seemed to be coming apart. The ma.s.sive restatement day events looked like being shrouded in death and deceit.

The Doctor, a long-time friend of Peladon, was to be executed. The king seemed completely in Atissa's thrall, unbending over his decision to have the Doctor dead. Nic Reece was foreseeing doom and despair for the planet's future wealth and the Federation holocrews were pestering him about the disappearance of three of their number; a holocameraman, Neal Corry and the little Pakhar, Keri.

As he paused to summon his resolve outside the throne room, a familiar swis.h.i.+ng and wobbling could be heard from behind him. Without turning, he spoke.

'Good afternoon, Amba.s.sador.'

'It most certainly is not, Chancellor. In all my years on Peladon, I have never felt as bewildered and distraught as I do now. Above all, Chancellor, I feel a complete stranger on a world upon which I have lived longer than anyone else alive today!'

Unaccustomed to hearing anything approaching anger in Centauri's tone, Geban turned around, and took a step back. The alien's usually green head was a totally new hue. Even the arms had joined it in appearing blotchy pink and black in colour, like a badly burned yubbo fruit. A few steps behind him stood the human woman, Summerfield. Geban allowed himself a slight bow to her but there was no returning smile. Geban knew he was dealing with two hostile a.s.sociates.

'What can I do for you both?' The human looked as if she was going to retort but Centauri got in first.

'Frankly, Chancellor Geban, you can demand that this ridiculous death penalty is swiftly removed from hanging over the Doctor: Centauri bobbed down and slowly blinked his eye. 'Secondly, you can tell the king that I request . . . no, I demand an audience.'

Geban stared at the Centaurian. I . . . I'll see what I can arrange, Amba.s.sador.'

'See that you do, Chancellor. And see that it is arranged swiftly. Events are moving at a pace here that 1 cannot keep up with.'

As Centauri and Summerfield walked away from him, Geban swallowed.

Centauri turned back to look at him, his head rotating one hundred and eighty degrees without his body turning. The big eyelid again blinked owlishly. 'Last time I found something I couldn't deal with, I called in Federation troops. Your father didn't thank me then and I doubt you'd thank me now. Your whole society and social reputation would be severely disrupted, especially with the restatement day tomorrow. Please ensure that I need not make any calls for help.' Centauri bobbed away.

Geban's day had just got worse.

'You were magnificent. Brilliant. I couldn't believe it!' Alpha Centauri was back in the Federation Representatives' room, sagged slightly against the wooden table while Bernice Summerfield was patting his back and making appreciative compliments. 'You really did it! Geban looked totally flabbergasted!'

Alpha Centauri simply waved a couple of exhausted tentacles at her.

'Please! Professor Summerfield. Your enthusiasm is making me dizzy.'

Bernice stopped instantly. 'So, how long d'you think we'll have to wait before his royal brainlessness gets back to us?'

Centauri blinked and his head and arms were now almost back to their calm olive. I am sure that the king will carefully consider the situation and revoke the decision-'

And if he doesn't, will you really call in the Federation troops?' Centauri turned away. 'No. If the king refuses to accede to my requests, then the Doctor is doomed.'

'Your Majesty, this travesty of justice cannot go ahead. The Federation simply will not permit it.' Geban looked up from his cowed position, over at the king's expressionless face, searching for some clue as to Tarrol's abrupt decision to allow the Doctor's death.

'You forget, Geban, it is the Federation's major representative who is to perform the execution. It occurs, therefore, with the Federation's blessing.'

Geban stood up and hugged his robe to his chest. 'Your Majesty, we have been friends for many years. I speak now as that friend, not as His Majesty's Chancellor. Tarrol, this is an abomination - a complete flagrant abuse of our own laws.'

The king also stood up, stepping away from his throne. 'You forget yourself, Chancellor Geban. High Lord Savaar is operating within parameters allowed by both our law which the Federation is duty-bound to observe while on Peladon, I might add - and his own. Do not challenge me on this or you will find yourself out of office.'

Geban let his robe drop to the floor and stepped away from it. 'Your Majesty, if a friend to Peladon can be so easily dismissed on the word of the high priestess, with no discussion at any level, then I no longer wish to serve. As chancellor or as friend.'

With that Geban stalked out of the throne room, slamming the door angrily as he left and never looking back at his king.

Which was a shame, for had he looked back Geban would have seen Tarrol's face twist in a grimace of total pain. Geban would have seen Tarrol suddenly a.s.sume the posture of a young man suddenly thrust into a world of politics and deviousness not of his making. Geban would have seen Tarrol slowly walk over, scoop up Geban's discarded cloak of office and hug it to himself. And Geban might have heard Tarrol's whispered moan: Oh, Geban. Why must I betray even you? I only hope you will understand why I do what I do.'

But Geban didn't. He was already on his way to the Federation Representatives' room to tell them that he believed his king to be a fool.

The object of everyone's consternation was currently pacing up and down in his cell. Standing just outside were what many perceived as his worst enemies - Sskeet and High Lord Savaar.

I trust we can speak freely, Doctor. Gentleman to gentlemen?'

The Doctor made an expansive gesture. 'Consider me a captive audience, Lord Savaar.'

Savaar walked nearer to the bars of the cell, Sskeet turning and keeping watch for any stray Pels who might be listening in.

'Sskeet has scanned this area for DAR devices. We are, I believe the expression goes, clean as a whistle.'

'Why should anyone bug me?'

Savaar ignored the question, choosing to answer with another. 'Why are you here, Doctor? Why did the Chair send you?'

'That's for me to know and you to-'