Part 21 (1/2)

After every landing. Along with many insects. Too small to evade the decontaminant detectors. But they flounder soon enough.'

'This one looks very healthy.' The Doctor whispered to it, 'I wouldn't mind popping you under the microscope, old thing. If only to -' He broke off as a set of facts slotted together in his mind. Flies. The heat in the Chelonian base. The preservative. 'Seskwa. Stop this vehicle. Now.'

'What? Why?'

The Doctor opened his hands and let the fly go. 'Just do it. I'm having another one of my unfounded fears.'

'You talk nonsense. We shall continue.'

Another thought struck the Doctor. 'Wait a moment. How did it get in here?

We're sealed in.'

'It is not important,' said Seskwa, keeping his eyes on the way ahead.

The Doctor's large, sensitive nose sniffed. He watched as the fly zipped beneath Seskwa's sh.e.l.l at the upper neck, where the thick leathery tissue appeared purple and freshly scarred, and gulped. Suddenly he felt very hot.

'Ah. Seskwa, I think you've got a problem. If we stop here now there might still be time.'

'We shall continue.'

'I thought you were looking rather the worse for wear,' the Doctor went on.

'Stop and we can talk things over.'

Seskwa turned abruptly, bringing his fierce features inches from the Doctor's. 'You are needed,' he said hoa.r.s.ely. 'You are special. Your death will satisfy us.' He nodded to the forward screen. The vehicle was approaching a sheer drop. Automatic alarms chittered, sent warnings flas.h.i.+ng. The drop was hazardous, the pit beyond many hundreds of feet deep.

The Doctor lunged for the tank's manual controls. A moment later, so did Seskwa. And he was by far the stronger.

The tank careered crazily from side to side, the ma.s.sive rollers on its underside sending showers of grey sludge in all directions as it lurched across a muddy bank. Then it lost its grip on the ground, toppled over the edge of the drop, and plummeted into the darkness.

There was silence for a few seconds.

Then there was a colossal explosion, throwing out a golden glow for miles around.

Chapter Six - Violence.

An attendant's voice crackled from Jafrid's earclip. 'Your steam tank is ready, General. The temperature is set at four hundred zinods.'

Jafrid stretched his four limbs to their fullest limits, feeling the hydraulic units inside tense and relax in sympathy. 'Thank you. Just what's needed.

Joints are aching.' He lowered his webbing and shuffled out of it, his plastron sagging slightly as he padded towards the door that led from the control room. He pa.s.sed the Environments Officer and said, 'Tuzelid, keep me informed, I'll be in the hot-tub. Has that Doctor made it over yet?'

'Not yet, sir.' He rubbed the side of his chin and said, 'I'm so glad everything's calmed down again, sir.' He pointed to his screens. All the displays were calm and comparatively empty. 'That's the way I like to see them.'

Jafrid grunted his agreement. A small flas.h.i.+ng green dot on one panel caught his attention. 'What's that, then?'

Tuzelid followed his gaze and his posture changed, his rear end lifting in the natural Chelonian display of shock. 'Faf! Sir, that's the First Pilot's life trace!'

Jafrid had never fully understood the machinery and the jargon of the control room. 'What does that mean?'

Tuzelid hunched over his controls and his front feet moved urgently over several of the sense-panels. 'Seskwa. Respond.' There was no reply from the speaker grille above his head, not even a wash of static.

'Has something gone wrong?' Jafrid felt an unpleasant sliding sensation.

His world was unbalancing again. 'Patch in to the tank.'

Tuzelid did some more fiddling with his instruments, and the control room's big screen lost its aerial view of the war zone and went blank. 'No image.'

'Use the satellite, then,' urged Jafrid. 'It's probably only a technical fault.'

As if to contradict him the screen fizzed and sprung back to life with an enhanced satellite image. It was night, and the contours of the zone were picked out in a dull purple. The satellite's roving eye, as directed by Tuzelid, aimed for the last known location of the tank, its field zooming closer and closer in until it was strained to its limits. At the exact centre of the screen was a pulsing green aura. Tuzelid enhanced the image, narrowing the satellite's aperture to filter out the planet's own dingy s.h.i.+ne.

The aura turned a violent red, and data flowed at the bottom of the screen.

'What is that?' asked Jafrid.

'It's Seskwa's vehicle, sir,' said Tuzelid. 'The energy release contains atrizum and amytol.' These were deposits stored in the fuel tanks of all Chelonian land craft, which became extremely volatile if ignited.

Jafrid's heart sank. Then his alert eyes caught a movement, a flicker not far from the explosion. 'What moves there? Enhance the image, quickly now.'

A grid filled itself in over the image, and the square containing the movement zoomed out. Image magnifiers knocked out as much distortion as they could, and a still picture was formed. It showed an upright, humanoid shape, a long covering wrapped about its top half many times.

The Doctor!

Jafrid's throat dried. 'Seskwa, you were right. Why did I not heed your warning?' Distantly he was aware of a collective intake of breath among the control room officers, and abruptly the atmosphere became even more stifling.

'Orders, General?' asked Tuzelid. His tone was forthright, martial.

Jafrid tried hard to cover his hurt. That Dolne, his old friend, could have sanctioned such a cowardly deceit was almost too much for him to believe.

But the old ways were also strong in him, and he felt a surge of hatred for all humans. 'Cancel my steaming session. Ready all launchers, Guzrats included. Strategy: full strike, maximum sweep, no mercy, no prisoners.

Ground forces are to act as reinforcements as and when. Bring all satellite guidance on line.' The control room hurried to obey him, and there was a general flurry of activity.