It was all very distracting. Ace had realised that whatever the space station was being used for, it wasn’t a thriving trading post. So much for the Doctor’s projections of probability. The only people she saw as Kedin showed her round were soldiers, all of them belonging to Kedin’s battalion, or regiment, or whatever it was. And they were all men.
The only women she’d seen had been among the gang that had attacked Kedin. And that was another odd thing: Kedin hadn’t explained why he’d been mugged, and managed to change the subject whenever Ace tried to ask.
‘You men can return to your stations,’ Kedin said over his shoulder to the troop of soldiers who had followed them throughout the tour. Ace had wondered all along why it was necessary to have a bodyguard.
‘I must show you the observatory,’ Kedin said, guiding her with his hand on her shoulder.
That kind of thing normally freaked her out, but she had to admit that she liked the touch of Kedin’s hands. It made her feel shivery. Not nasty shivery: nice shivery. Very nice. ‘Then you will have seen everything,’ he concluded.
The exciting proximity of Kedin’s slim body wasn’t enough to make Ace fall for that line, however. She had a pretty good idea of the size of the station, and she knew she hadn’t seen the half of it. The design of the place suggested that there must be large storage holds: Kedin hadn’t shown her even one. Nor had he taken her to the docking bays or to the main control room. He had something to hide.
Well, Ace said to herself, if he fancies me I can use that to find out what’s going on here. I’ll just turn on my irresistible allure. He’ll be eating out of my hand.
They were alone together now, standing in front of a closed door marked OBSERVATORY. Ace didn’t move aside when Kedin reached past her to pull down the emergency door lever.
They haven’t worked out how to use the electronic systems, Ace realised as she allowed herself to sway forward slightly, bringing the front of her T-shirt into soft contact with the back of Kedin’s arm.
The door slid open. Ace didn’t move, but remained standing in the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder at Kedin.
Now let’s see him make his move, she thought. I suppose I ought to put up a bit of resistance when he does. I think I’m going to enjoy this Mata Hari stuff.
But Kedin didn’t touch her. He stepped back, coughed discreetly, and made an elegant gesture indicating that Ace was welcome to precede him through the doorway.
Cursing inwardly, Ace smiled at him and walked ahead.
Ace couldn’t understand it. The way he’d been acting, she’d thought he’d try to get physical as soon as he had her alone.
Maybe it had all been an act, to impress his men. But he didn’t seem the kind of bloke who needed to impress anyone.
‘Prepare yourself for a shock,’ Kedin said from behind her as she approached the end of the short corridor. ‘I’ve known battle-hardened troopers to turn queasy when they first see the panorama of the stars.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Ace said, and stepped from the mouth of the corridor into the transparent bubble beyond.
She didn’t recognise the constellations, but she hadn’t expected to. Every time she gazed up at an alien night sky she felt a pang of homesickness: it wasn’t that she wanted to return to Earth, but she was assailed by a realization of how far away she was from her home world.
The sun of the Mendeb system, along with Mendeb Two, was out of sight, presumably on the opposite side of the space station. Mendeb Three was visible, however: a globe a little smaller than the Moon seen from Earth, brilliantly white in the full glare of the sun. Ace could see the corona of atmosphere around the planet, and within it swirls and lines of clouds.
Kedin exhaled a deep breath. ‘That’s my home,’ he said.
Ace looked at him. He was staring at the planet. His face was set. His eyes were glittering. He looked sad and noble.
‘One day,’ he added, ‘I’ll be able to return.’
Kedin’s an exile, Ace thought. That’s really romantic.
He turned to Ace. His mouth was once again wearing its quirky smile. He gestured grandly at the heavens. ‘And where is your home, Ace?’
Now that’s a good question, Ace said to herself. I’m damned if I know the answer, these days. But I’d better tell him something. He’s obviously worked out that I’m not from these parts. He probably wants to get his hands on the rocketship he assumes I used to get here. Better not say I’m from Earth, though - he’s probably heard of it, and I don’t know whether that’s good or bad.
‘I come from a world that’s somewhere in that lot,’ Ace said, pointing to the glittering swathe of stars that made up the Milky Way. ‘Place called Perivale.’
‘Ah,’ Kedin said. ‘I see.’
He looked completely mystified.
An hour later, the man was still sitting by his blue hut with his head in his hands.
Bep-Wor was still watching him, and still trying to decide whether he was one of the enemy. He wasn’t in uniform: in fact his clothes looked almost as worn and untidy as Bep-Wor’s. Perhaps he might prove to be an ally. At the very least he might have food in his hut. And he seemed to be alone.
Bep-Wor climbed over the wall. The man didn’t notice him.
Keeping within the long shadows, Bep-Wor crept round the sides of the square until he was at the closest point to the hut. Then he had no choice but to make a break into the open. He sprinted across the sun-streaked flagstones.
The man had heard his footsteps. As he reached the hut, the man appeared round one of its corners. Bep-Wor lifted his pitchfork to keep the man at a distance.
The man raised his arms and showed his empty hands.
‘Don’t be alarmed,’ he said. ‘I’m not dangerous. I’m the Doctor. Who are you?’
Bep-Wor was confused. A doctor? But the man had said the Doctor. As if Bep-Wor should have heard of him. He was a short, slight man. His eyes were bright and unnervingly piercing, but he was smiling. For some reason Bep-Wor thought he could trust him. He lowered the pitchfork. ‘My name is Bep-Wor. This is my village. Was my village.’
‘What happened here?’ the Doctor said, as if he was completely unaware of the invasion.
This wasn’t the time to explain. ‘We can’t stay here,’ Bep-Wor said. ‘A patrol could come through at any time. We must take cover. But first, do you have food? I haven’t eaten for two days.’
‘Of course,’ the Doctor said. ‘Come into the TARDIS. No: wait.’ The Doctor looked at Bep-Wor searchingly. ‘Stay here,’
the Doctor said. ‘You’ve had enough shocks recently, I can see that. I’ll be back in a trice.’
The Doctor disappeared through the doorway of his hut. It sounded to Bep-Wor as though the Doctor’s footsteps were receding into the distance: as if the inside of the hut was a large, empty space. He shook his head. He decided he must have become delirious with hunger.
Suddenly the Doctor was emerging from the dark interior.
He pulled the door closed behind him. Bep-Wor saw that he was carrying a small silver flask.
‘Food,’ Bep-Wor said. ‘I need food, not drink.’
The Doctor grinned. He looked very pleased with himself.
‘Just try a drop of this,’ he said. ‘It’s really quite extraordinarily nutritious.’ He proffered the flask.
Now Bep-Wor was very suspicious. There had been rumours that the invaders pacified their captives with drugged drinks.
‘It’s perfectly safe,’ the Doctor said. A note of impatience had entered his voice. ‘Look, I’ll have some myself.’
He unscrewed the stopper and lifted the flask to his lips.
He drank.
‘Don’t drink it all,’ Bep-Wor said urgently. The Doctor had surely drained the bottle. Perhaps the Doctor was mad.
‘Don’t worry,’ the Doctor said with a crafty look. ‘There’s plenty left. It’s on a permanent link to the food synthesiser.’
Bep-Wor had no idea what the Doctor w
as talking about. If he wasn’t mad, he was certainly very strange. But the flask felt full in his hands, and when he brought it to his mouth he first smelt, and then tasted, a rich, warm aromatic broth that seemed to satisfy his aching gut even as the first mouthful entered his throat. He took gulps of the thick fluid, until he felt a hand pressing on his.
‘That’s enough for now,’ the Doctor said. ‘It is full of nutrients. Don’t overdo it.’
‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Bep-Wor said. He handed back the flask, and as he did so he heard the distant droning of a machine. The doctor’s head was cocked: he had heard it too.
‘Run!’ Bep-Wor said. ‘It’s a flying machine. This way.’ He made for the side of the square, pausing only to make sure that the Doctor was following him. He realised that he felt stronger than he had for a week: the Doctor’s flask contained a remarkably potent broth. The Doctor, too, could move surprisingly quickly, and both men were crouching behind the tumbled wall of Bep-Wor’s house when the flying machine came into sight.
It was flying low, and the clatter of its engine was thunderous. Bep-Wor could see the flashing circle made by the whirling blades at the front of the machine. But for the noise it would have seemed as graceful as a bird as it swooped and circled over the square. The man sitting in the machine, his helmeted head visible above the metal flanks, had seen the Doctor’s blue hut. Bep-Wor was certain that soldiers would be sent to investigate.
The Doctor was talking to himself. Bep-Wor heard him say,
‘Surprisingly primitive construction.’
The engine roared louder as the machine curved upwards through the air and pulled away from the village.
‘Primitive?’ Bep-Wor said. ‘Doctor, there are men in those machines. They can fly faster than any bird. They drop packages of explosives. Look around you. See what they can do.’
‘Who are they, Bep-Wor? Who are the people who destroyed your village?’ The Doctor’s expression was intense, almost fearful.
When the invaders had attacked the village Bep-Wor had been at sea. There had been rumours of a war in the Links, the line of islands that trailed southwards beyond Big Hook Island; a trader, known for his liking for beer, had said he’d seen machines in the sky. But no one expected the invaders.
There had been no reason at all why Bep-Wor should have refused his brother, who needed an extra hand on the fishing boat.
And while he was at sea - while he was enjoying the salty air and the easy comradeship of his brother’s crew - the invaders had come.
Kia-Ga. Where was she now?
Bep-Wor shook his head and sniffed back his tears. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.
The Doctor persisted. ‘Are they from one of the other islands?’
‘No. Of course not.’ Bep-Wor was certain of that. His brother fished the waters from one side of the archipelago to the other. He would have known if any of the islands had started to build machines such as the invaders possessed.
Everyone would have known.
‘What about the people who live in the south polar region?
Could it be them?’
Bep-Wor had considered the possibility many times. ‘The southerners? Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But our leaders used to talk to their leaders. They live as we do, as far as we can tell. I never heard that they could fly in machines. We had a device, on Windsweep Island, that carried our voices to them and theirs to us. It stopped working a few years ago.’
‘I know,’ the Doctor said. He looked unhappy. ‘That was my fault, I think. And so, maybe, is all of this.’ His sad eyes scanned slowly across the ruined village.
Bep-Wor didn’t understand. He still wasn’t sure whether the Doctor was in his right mind. ‘I’ve seen soldiers marching through here,’ he said. ‘I’ve met a few people from nearby villages, too. There’s a rumour that the invaders don’t come from this world at all; that they just dropped out of the sky.’
Bep-Wor expected the Doctor to ridicule his story. But the Doctor merely nodded with resignation, as if his worst fears had been confirmed. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I won’t find out what’s going on if I stay here. I’d better be on my way.’
‘To where?’ Bep-Wor said.
‘To find the invaders, of course. I have to determine who they are. Then, somehow or other, I must put things right.
And of course there’s always Ace to worry about.’ A look of anguish crossed his face. ‘I seem to have made a spectacular hash of things this time.’
Bep-Wor wondered whether Ace was the Doctor’s woman.
And how the Doctor thought he could put things right. The strange thing was that Bep-Wor almost believed that the Doctor could do it. He was just one man, and not any sort of soldier, but Bep-Wor trusted him. The invaders had taken Kia-Ga. Perhaps the Doctor could find her.
He realised he was being pitifully hopeful. But the arrival of the Doctor seemed like a good omen.
‘The invaders came from that direction,’ Bep-Wor said, pointing southeast. ‘They went north. I think some are still on the island. If we head northwards we’ll find them. Or they’ll find us.’
‘We?’ the Doctor said. ‘Us?’
‘I’m coming with you.’ Bep-Wor looked around at his shattered home. ‘I’ve nothing to stay for.’
Madok didn’t like it. It was unseemly to hide in a young woman’s quarters; it was worse to participate in playing a trick on her. He doubted whether Ace would be fooled, anyway: she was inquisitive, certainly, but it seemed unlikely that replacing the sign saying ESCAPE POD with one saying WEAPONS ROOM would be enough to entice her through the small door in the corner of her cabin.
‘She won’t be able to resist it,’ Kedin had assured him.
‘You’d be amazed at the things that girl’s interested in. And she’ll be quite safe: after all, you’ll be there to switch the controls to automatic if she really can’t handle it.’
And so Madok waited, crouching in the darkness, uncomfortably constricted in the narrow space behind the single seat.
He heard voices: Kedin and Ace.
‘I’m afraid this is the best I can offer you,’ Kedin said. His voice sounded thin and distant, even though the pod’s door was slightly ajar. ‘It’s not the most luxurious of accommodation.’
‘I’ve had worse,’ Ace said.
Neither of them spoke for a while. As the silence extended Madok imagined Kedin pulling Ace into his arms. Touching her face. Kissing her. It was too much to bear.
‘Yes, that’s all pretty much as I expected,’ Ace said. Her voice was louder than Kedin’s. She had moved near to the door.
‘Hello,’ she said, her voice sharp with surprise. ‘What’s this? Weapons? That’s not likely, is it? This is a pressure-sealed door.’
Light spilled into the pod as the outer door opened. Madok willed himself to keep still and silent as Ace crossed the threshold of the inner door.
‘This is an escape pod,’ she called over her shoulder to Kedin. ‘You know, like a lifeboat on a ship.’ As she finished the sentence Madok heard the outer door swing into its frame with a heavy thud.
‘Oi!’ Ace shouted.
At the same time Kedin’s voice came weakly through the closed door. He was, Madok had to admit, making a good job of sounding close to panic.
‘Great heavens,’ he cried, ‘the door’s closed itself. I don’t know what’s going on. Don’t worry, Ace. I’ll get you out. I’ll open the door. There must be a lever that will work it. Ah! I’ll try this one.’
‘Hold it!’ Ace yelled, but communication with Kedin was cut off as the inner door slid shut. Madok peeked from behind the seat and saw Ace jump back to avoid being crushed.
‘Bloody hell,’ Ace said. She seemed more irritated than frightened.
‘Emergency escape activated,’ a woman’s voice calmly intoned. Madok almost leapt from his hiding-place in surprise. ‘Lift-off in ten seconds. Secure the seat straps.’
The voice belonged to the escape pod itself, Madok realised.
Some of the troopers on the station had told him of hearing the ghostly voice of a woman: it was said to warn of danger.
Madok knew that the explanation had to be technological, not supernatural. It was possible to send a voice across thousands of kilometres: every one of Kedin’s military units had a radio set and a man trained to operate it. And it was possible to make a recording of a human voice. It wasn’t far-fetched, therefore, to imagine a recorded message that turned itself on automatically. There was so much still to rediscover, despite the great strides that Kedin and Tevana had made.
‘Bloody, bloody hell,’ Ace said vehemently as she strapped herself into the seat. ‘I just hope these controls are still working. I’ll bet this thing hasn’t been serviced for a good few hundred years.’
‘Five,’ said the voice of the escape pod, four.’
Madok peered over Ace’s shoulder. She was scanning the boards, alight with flickering dials, that surrounded her.
‘Life support’s OK, that’s the main thing,’ she said to herself. ‘Now, I must be able to pull up a graphic display.
What about this?’
Madok almost gasped with surprise as a large blank area in the centre of the banks of controls burst into life. It looked like a swirling mist of colours.
‘One,’ said the voice of the escape pod, ‘lift-off.’
Madok hunched into a ball. He felt the floor vibrate. A screaming roar filled his ears. His shaking body was pressed against the back of Ace’s seat. He felt sick.
It went on for several minutes.
‘Urgh,’ he heard Ace say. Evidently the acceleration had been scarcely more comfortable for her.
He risked lifting his head again. Ace was still concentrating on the controls. The swirling slate of colours suddenly made sense to him: it was a picture. There was the vast, complex mass of the space station, exactly as he saw it from his scout ship; there, a tiny sliver of light drifting away from the station, was the escape pod.
‘Thrusters,’ Ace said, pensively. ‘I wonder.’ Tentatively she pressed a button. Madok saw the tiny representation of the pod begin to veer upwards.
Independence Day Page 5
