Part 26 (2/2)

'Doctor, he has been executed,' wailed Centauri.

'Nonsense, Amba.s.sador. He's as dead as I am. With any luck he and Bernice have your art thief in chains by now. The clues were obvious enough.'

'What clues?' asked Kort.

'Later. Too many questions, I'll tell you later. Let's go.'

As the entourage moved away from Centauri's quarters, it was Neal Corry who noticed the bulge in a nearby drape-covered alcove. Calling them back, he moved the drape side.

Geban gasped as Torg's body flopped forward, the huge man's throat severed from ear to ear.

'He must have died instantly,' said the Doctor quietly. 'The poor man.'

'Who did this?' said Geban.

Our art thief. The same person who killed Lady Lianna, old Fabon and anyone else who is missing.'

'Jav,' said Keri.

'Jav? My cameraman?' asked Corry.

If he is a Pakhar, then yes,' replied Sskeet. 'We found a badly mutilated Pakhar on Mount Megeshra's slopes some time ago. He had fallen or been pushed from a great height.'

I wonder what scam he got caught up in this time,' Corry muttered. I knew he was trouble. Knew that after the Galactic Storm stuff. Poor fool.'

I suspect,' said the Doctor, laying the drape over Torg's body and straightening up, I suspect he found out who our man was and tried to blackmail him. Very silly idea.'

He led the way forward.

High Lord Savaar decided it was time to risk attention. Shsurr Summerfield and Nic Reece were obviously engaged in deep, meaningful conversation somewhere but it was time he reported in to Commander Ra.s.sbur.

He was just leaving Bernice's room when the door was flung open and the Doctor stood there. Savaar saw the Pakhar, the Cantryan, Sskeet, and Geban the Chancellor and even Neal Corry pile in behind him.

'Greetings, Doctor. Shsurr Summerfield carried out her mission with great delicacy and style. She will be honoured when we return to the Federation.'

'Good, Savaar, good. Now where is she?'

'She and Nic Reece are in the tunnels, discussing private matters.'

There was a pause and then the Doctor almost seemed to erupt in anger.

He began pacing around like a clockwork toy in overdrive.

And you let her? You let her go off with Nic Reece? How could you be so stupid?'

'Doctor! I don't understand-'

'No, obviously. I thought I'd laid all the clues out for you. I couldn't tell Benny because I needed her to get close to him. Don't you understand, the man you know as Nic Reece isn't. He's some kind of psychotic mercenary who's trying to rule the Federation.' The Doctor stared at them. 'He killed Lianna, Torg, Jav, Jina, everyone. Nic Reece is the man we've ail been hunting and you've let him take Bernice into the caverns!'

Interlude Three 'Professor? Professor Rhukk? Where are you?' In his portable cabin, the object of the calling looked up from his comm-net.

Open,' he commanded and a portion of the wall melted away to let in the searing heat of Phaester Osiris's close atmosphere. He adjusted the controls on the collar of is translucent exo-suit. Cool air and liquid oxygen were pumped against his body and he sighed contentedly.

Feeling able to face the outside, Rhukk pushed himself out of his chair and gingerly stepped on to the sand. Despite the exo-suit, the heat hit him like a pile-driver and he actually staggered, grasping out with his clamplike hands to the side of the cabin.

'Close,' he hissed and the wall rematerialized, to keep the interior atmosphere as cool as possible.

He saw the young Lurman, Krissi, running towards him. How he envied the Lurman's ability to run and generally enjoy the heat of the planet. Martians, he long ago decided, were actually totally ill-equipped for the life of archaeology. Inevitably, digs took place in arid wastelands, years after a civilization had disintegrated into dust. Dust that cluttered up sophisticated equipment and, more importantly, Martian bodies. He'd been so grateful when the Federation research teams had created the exo-suit for him: it had given him back the manoeuvrability that age had slowly withered away.

Of course, being a Martian archaeologist was in itself somewhat unusual, but Rhukk delighted in eccentricity. He saw himself as a bit of a cultural throw-back, an oddity who was forever invited to lush dinner parties and soirees and gave appreciated after-meal speeches. His fellow Martians would pa.s.s the time of day but shared very little intellectual similarities with him. But the other humanoid species within the Federation had quickly given him recognition and, wholly deservedly, a reputation as one of the finest explorers in the galaxy.

After his first paper was published on the Telosian Cyber-tombs, starting that ridiculous nostalgia wave thirty years ago, he had been on all the holo-nets. More recently he'd had the charming pleasure of being interviewed on GFTV-3 - his favourite channel due to their intelligent and precise coverage of events rather than cheap entertainment. The delightful Pakhar, Ker'a'nol, had come to his home and gone through his life with him. Together they had discussed his highly exciting career and, false modesty aside, discussed just how much of that career was now considered essential reading by the Federation educational establishments purely because of his and his teams' research.

His favourite moment had been when she'd asked him which ten pieces of music and which written texts he would like to be stranded on a frontier asteroid with. His music stretched from Old Mars cla.s.sics from centuries back right up to the present with some of the nouveau-techno-skiffle that his Lurman and Human students were so fond of. But the text was even easier to decide upon Gustaff Heinrich Urnst's seminal 'Being an Account of my Discoveries of the Unnameable Secrets of Sakkrat'.

This co-existence of serious scientific explorer and witty raconteur made Rhukk a highly popular guest on other chat shows and an interviewee in comnet programs. As a result, he had been able to go to Irving Braxiatel and convince him to fund his sojourn to explore the Horun ruins, on the proviso that the Braxiatel Collection had full access to the findings. With the amount of credit Braxiatel placed in Rhukk's accounts, that was certainly no problem. It also ensured that these monumental discoveries would be accessible to the public for eons to come rather than locked away with some private and disinterested collector of alien ephemera.

Krissi caught up with him, running a hand across her silver hair and so removing handfuls of Osirian dust and sand.

She pa.s.sed him a data-pad and ran her Neysc.r.a.pe across it for him.

Immediately the holographic image of Irving Braxiatel blurred into view.

'Professor Rhukk. I have some news for you and little of it good, I'm afraid.

I'll get straight to the point. As you know I, along with the University of Pakhar, have been funding research into the location of the legendary Ancient Diadem.

'You may remember Sym Sharrod, the professor of archaeology at the university. He and a group of his students, working with Federation librarians, believed they had located the Diadem. Sharrod took a party to retrieve it. It is my sad duty to report two things -firstly Sharrod's entire group are dead, apparently murdered. I know you will take this very hard as I remember how well you knew most of the students involved after your Deans.h.i.+p there.

'Secondly, it would appear that they did in fact locate the Diadem. Any minor victory that would signify to the archaeological world is not only tarnished by their deaths but also by the fact that the Diadem was stolen.

At present, its location is unknown but I understand via a few . . . let's say unconfirmed sources, that the Federation are tracking it. The Martian High Commission on to have informed me that High Lord Savaar was leading the recovery mission. It transpires - and this is the bit that I am loathe to report so impersonally - that Savaar is also dead and his entire resource mission was destroyed.

I am sorry to be the bearer of such tragic news. A formal message has been dispatched to the others within your hatchery but as Savaar's second brother, I thought it best if you heard it from me.

'Rhukk, I am so sorry. I leave it up to you if you choose to return for the Death Honour Ceremony - I fully understand and, of course, provisions have been introduced to our schemes to ensure that the dig on Phaester Osiris will continue without you, albeit temporarily.

'Let me know your decision, old friend. Braxiatel out.'

Krissi stepped back, her eyes to the ground. Rhukk rested a hand on her shoulder.

'You knew them didn't you, Krissi?' She slowly nodded, her lip trembling.

'Julian and Nezz Larroq were in my study group before I left. I didn't know Fehler or Gris that well, but Professor Sharrod was exceptionally popular. It all seems so horrible.'

'Death is, my dear. It always is.' Rhukk breathed out slowly. 'Thank you for bringing this to me so promptly.'

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