Part 22 (1/2)

The athletes, pills in hand - or, in the case of the Werelox, already swallowed - muttered their appreciation and wandered away.

The Werelox leader stopped and snarled, shoving his furry muzzle right up close to Mason's face. 'What about the Foamasi? They won't like you dealing on their pitch, you know?'

'Don't worry about the Foamasi. I'm not planning to make a habit of this.

After today, the Foamasi can distribute these drugs wherever and whenever they want. All I need is this day. I'll sort it out with them.'

The Werelox leader frowned, then bared his canine teeth.'We'll be back,' he growled and then followed the others.

'Oh yes, you'll be back,' Mason muttered. 'You just might not be quite yourself by then.'

Like the Wirrrn, the Farads were an insectoid race from the Dermaptera sector of Alpha Centauri. To many among the Federation, they were known as the 'earwigs' due to their physical similarity to the tiny creatures of Earth.

But the a.n.a.logy was reasonably sound, if somewhat Federally incorrect, as the Farads were experts at surveillance and many were employed in the Federation research centres and, particularly at the moment on Micawber's World, among the holovid crews. They were experts in sound. As a highly telepathic and sensitive race, they made for excellent audio technicians.

However, like so many Federation races, they had their secrets. Prime among theirs was that they were open to psychic storms - tiny ripples in the ether that wouldn't be noticed by all but the most powerful human telepaths were like force-twelve hurricanes to their sensitive minds. For the most part, Farads had ensured that they never entered into deals or contracts that exposed them to potentially dangerous situations.

Of course, the Farad leaders had not foreseen the presence of the Wirrrn on Micawber's World so when the Wirrrn Queen sent her command out to Miles Mason, the Farads picked it up too.

And it wiped their minds clean in less than a second. Every Farad on Micawber's World, all those in orbiting satellite holovid relay stations and a large number on neighbouring worlds died instantly, their brains simply shutting down their bodies in a futile effort to weather the psychic storm that invaded their heads.

If the Wirrrn Queen had known about this, she would have greeted the news with indifference - a weak race not worth absorbing.

But to the Pakhars, Lurmans, s.h.i.+stavanens and others who operated the holocrews, the sudden wave of instant deaths was something of a shock.

Reverend Lukas was on his bed in his room at the Mirage hotel, sitting cross-legged, head bowed, hands tightly clasped together, eyes closed.

He was meditating - a daily occurrence that would have no sinister appearance if it weren't for the fact that Eldritch and Marcus were effectively standing guard, staring dead ahead but clearly prepared to stop anyone from going near their master.

Just outside, in the corridor, Phillipa and Jolyon wanted to talk to him, to tell him some exciting news.

'Don't bother right now,' Max Girard warned them as they greeted each other by the door. Max and Veronique had been getting supplies for the evening meal, and Max was carrying bags of fresh fruit and vegetables.'He's meditating.'

Phillipa nodded but Jolyon was too excited to care.'I'm sure he won't mind being interrupted this once. We have such good news.'

'What is it?' asked Veronique, hanging on to Max's arm as she always did.

'We've elected to get married. Officially,' said Jolyon. 'We want Reverend Lukas to join us in matrimony as soon as possible.

Veronique looked at Max. 'See! I knew they'd decide first.

Typical.' She laughed at Max's astonished face and then moved over to hug Phillipa.'I'm really happy for you.'

'You won't... you know, leave the Church?' Max was frowning.

'Of course not,' said Jolyon. 'This is our life. But imagine: as a married couple we could start our own caravan. Meet up with you and Reverend Lukas whenever possible but, of course, it will give us two lines of communication to the ma.s.ses.'

Max nodded, then gripped Jolyon's hand and shook it.'Well, my blessings to you both. It's good news.'

Without waiting, Jolyon waved his hand over the door sensor and it opened. He began to walk in, but Marcus and Eldritch turned as one and put their hands up to stop him. Neither of them spoke. They rarely did.

And then the unexpected happened.

Reverend Lukas screamed and clutched at his temples, pitching forward on to the floor.

Eldritch and Marcus were beside him in a second. Jolyon stood by the door, feeling useless, while Max, Veronique and Phillipa stared over his shoulder.

Marcus eased Reverend Lukas up, while Eldritch brushed his black robe down.

Reverend Lukas was staring at his flock. A beatific smile on his face. He slowly raised his hands and then his eyes upwards.

'The G.o.ddess has spoken to me,' he shouted. 'She is here. We have come home!'

The group by the door looked at each other in confusion.

Eldritch and Marcus resumed their alert patrol between them and Reverend Lukas.

'She has touched my mind,' he said, quieter now. 'She has called me.' He now looked at the others. 'No, she has called us. All of us.'

'Reverend Father? Are you all right?'

'Yes, Max. Yes, I am absolutely fine. Everything we have sought, everything we have hoped and prayed for has come home at last.

The G.o.ddess is here.' Reverend Lukas moved forward, Eldritch and Marcus standing aside as he pa.s.sed them. He put his hands out to the other four and they all reached forward to touch him. 'If ever there have been doubts in your minds, my children, let them go now. The G.o.ddess is here.Waiting for us. And we shall go to her.'

Without waiting for a reply, he pushed through them and into the corridor.

After a few seconds, Max, Veronique and Phillipa followed him. Jolyon Tuck shot one last look back into the room, where Marcus and Eldritch stood impa.s.sively.

'Are you coming?' he asked tentatively. Neither of them responded.'OK,' he said, then ran after the others.

The news of his impending nuptials would clearly have to wait.

One of the Reverend Lukas's fellow Church members was currently cowering in a dark cavern, terrified for his life. Facing him, seemingly looking straight down on him, was the Wirrrn Queen.

Kyle and Sam had followed Torin around a variety of routes and tunnels until finally the journalist had stopped dead.

'What's up?' Sam had asked, but Torin did not answer.

'You're worse than the Doctor at times, you know. He frequently stands still, says nothing, points a finger at just anything and then a.s.sumes I've understood something important.' She clearly thought about this. 'Actually, it is usually pretty unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but the way his attention wanders from one minute to the next, well, it's obviously important to him.'

'The Doctor?' asked Torin.

'Yes. What about the Doctor anyway?'

Chalfont then began scratching at his left hand, still wrapped in his jacket.