Part 26 (2/2)

Falsh looked away in silence.

147.

'Course already computed, is it?' The Doctor put down the visor set and examined the computer. 'It's such a bore, hacking through the command protocols. Are you going to instruct the computer to get us moving?'

Still, Falsh said nothing.

Trix placed the gun to his head. 'Pretty please?'

Falsh exhaled heavily. 'Online. Commence programmed journey.'

The computer seemed to sigh in sympathy as the s.h.i.+p's engines fired up.

'Message received from Research and Development Unit on Callisto. Would you like me to play it?'

'Play it, Falsh,' suggested the Doctor. 'If she can stand it, I can.'

'Play it,' Trix agreed. 'Then we'll round up the usual suspects.' She nudged the oily gun barrel against Falsh's temple.

'All right,' said Falsh, each syllable said with unconscionable suffering.

A keen-looking, heavy-set woman in her forties appeared in a large bubblescreen, her wild red hair clipped up in a tangled ponytail.

'Falsh, it's Phaedra.' She spoke with a slight American accent, easy and a.s.sured. 'We've taken the slug apart, it is is artificial. Klimt's work all right artificial. Klimt's work all right same genetic styling you have on file.'

'Klimt's?' echoed Trix, but the Doctor shushed her furiously.

'Trouble is. . . ' A stray red lock fell over one green eye, and Phaedra blew it away. 'The d.a.m.ned thing meets all criteria needed to be cla.s.sed as a genuine new species, even if it was created artificially. Legally it's ent.i.tled to its own biosphere and Leda becomes the natural choice by default because that's where it was found. But OP lawyers could argue that every other moon in the sky's just as viable this thing can live anywhere.' She shrugged. 'Klimt did a good job. Maybe we can fake some pseudolife evidence to fool Pent Cent short term and get nuking, but it's looking unlikely.' A young bloke showed her some kind of readout. 'Right,' she told him. 'Falsh that capsule you sent from the podule. . . The authorisation codes are going through Pent Cent now.

They'll let us know if and when we can land it. You've got some nerve, we're only just tolerated on their turf as it is. What are you springing on us now?

We need to talk, so call me, check? Phaedra out.'

The bubble popped. Falsh's head sank forward into his chest.

'Looks like Torvin's coming their way,' Trix observed. 'His friends have missed their chance.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Could be embarra.s.sing for you, Falsh; him being Blazar's chief supervisor and all.'

Falsh looked up at him sharply.

'Yeah,' said Trix. 'You didn't kill all of them.'

'He'll have quite a story to tell the authorities,' the Doctor observed. 'But right now it's your friend Phaedra's story I find interesting.'

148.

'Yeah. So Klimt made made those slug things?' said Trix uneasily. 'That means they're weapons, right?' those slug things?' said Trix uneasily. 'That means they're weapons, right?'

'What do you say, Falsh?' the Doctor enquired.

He smiled mirthlessly. 'I say, d.a.m.n Klimt to h.e.l.l.'

'Are they weapons? How do they work?'

Falsh didn't answer. Trix dug the gun barrel a little harder against his temple.

'Did you know what you were getting? How does the paint fit in?' The Doctor lifted the visor set. 'I think this allows you to use it as a spying device.

And we witnessed for ourselves the way it can be used as a powerful hypnotic device.'

'But how does that square with s.p.a.ce slugs, Falsh?' asked Trix. 'That paint is a tool, not a weapon, but how '

'It's the only useful G.o.dd.a.m.ned thing Klimt ever produced,' shouted Falsh.

'Billions and billions of dollars poured into that inst.i.tute. . . and for what?'

The Doctor advanced on him. 'What do those slugs do?'

Falsh said nothing. He was sweating badly. The tip of the gun was making a bright point in his dark skin.

'Put that thing away, Trix,' said the Doctor curtly. 'Falsh, I'm not going to threaten you any longer. I really can't be bothered. And something tells me you want want to talk about this.' to talk about this.'

Falsh didn't react.

'Not easy, keeping the big, nasty secrets, is it?' the Doctor went on. 'The ones that eat a little of you away each day. The ones that nag and '

'All right, I'll talk,' snapped Falsh. 'Anything rather than listen to this head-shrinking c.r.a.p!'

The Doctor blinked, a little affronted. Trix smothered a smile.

'I'll talk on one condition. You let me put a call through to Phaedra.'

'I'll think about it,' said the Doctor.

'No call. No talk.'

'I've thought about it.' He rubbed his hands together like a gourmand before the feast. 'You're on.'

'You want to know what the slugs do?' Falsh gave a short, savage laugh.

'They do jack. They do nothing.' He laughed again, a savage, joyless sound.

'Absolutely nothing at all.'

Tinya breathed a sigh of relief as finally the crowds began to thin a little.

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