Doctor Who_ Warmonger Part 20

You'll get to know us much better soon!'

He ran a grimy hand across her cheek, down her neck and over her shoulder. Before his wandering hand could go further, Peri sat bolt upright and punched him on the nose, hard enough to produce a little spurt of blood.

'Lousy b.i.t.c.h,' he snarled, drawing back his hand.

An even bigger hand came over his shoulder, grabbed his wrist and dragged him back.

'Steady,' growled a deep voice. 'Don't bruise the fruit. Not unless you want to find yourself doing a s.p.a.ce walk without a s.p.a.cesuit. She's the General's, remember.'

Nardo was the General's giant bodyguard, the one who'd knocked her out.

Nate wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand.

'Till he tires of her, then it'll be our turn.' He grinned evilly at Peri. 'We'll meet again before too long, lovely.' He licked the blood off his lips. 'When we do I'll teach you a few new tricks.'

They both headed for the door.

'Hey!' shouted Peri.

Nate turned round with a leer.

'Changed your mind, dearie? The General's busy, you know.

Plenty of time for a quickie before he comes. He'll never know!'

Ignoring him, Peri spoke to Nardo. 'How about something to eat and drink? I feel faint, and I'll be no use to your General unconscious.'

The bodyguard grunted. They both went out and the door slid closed behind them. She heard the metallic click of the lock.

Peri looked round, taking in her surroundings. She was in a small, bare, windowless s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p cabin furnished with a bunk, a metal table and a chair. An open door gave a view of a cubicle with basic hygiene facilities.

Peri got up and went over to the cubicle. She splashed her face with water and drank a little water from the tap. It was tepid and tasteless, obviously recycled, but it made her feel a little better.

She went back to the bunk and sat down, considering her situation.

Not too good, to put it mildly. Peri was no believer in fates worse than death, and she might be able to cope with being the General's mistress. But the thought of becoming a general amenity for the crew when their brief romance was over was something else entirely.

Briefly she thought about killing herself but only briefly.

There didn't seem to be any useful tools around for the purpose for one thing. And there was something very negative about suicide.

She remembered the Doctor saying that in any situation, however bad, there was always a chance, as long as you kept watching and waiting and hoping.

'Never give up till you're dead,' he used to say.

She thought about her last meeting with him, bitterly regretting the way they'd quarrelled.

'You were right about the General, Doctor,' she thought. 'I only hope I live long enough to tell you so.'

The door slid open and a gnarled and dwarfish little man hobbled in carrying a loaded tray and an a.s.sortment of garments over his arm. He dumped the tray on the table and gave her the customary leer. This one was particularly repellent for being toothless.

'Here, keep yer strength up, dearie. You'll need it. The General will be here soon.' He tossed the clothes on the bunk.

'Get yerself cleaned up and put some of this gear on. The General likes things nice.' He gave her another toothless leer.

'I'm Sammie. We'll be meeting again, when I gets my turn. They always makes me wait till last, but never mind. Good things come to 'im what waits, eh?'

He shuffled out and the door closed behind him.

Life on this s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p, thought Peri, was like being a succulent bone in the middle of a pack of starving dogs or the last cake on the plate at a tea party.

Someone was always wanting to eat you up.

She looked at the contents of the tray. A plate held hard biscuits, leathery strips of dried meat and some weird-looking withered fruit. There was a jug with accompanying beaker. Tray, jug, beaker, plate and eating utensils were all made of battered-looking, heavy-duty plastic.

The jug was filled with some reddish liquid. Peri poured some into the accompanying beaker and took a sip. It was thin, sour wine. She had a fleeting worry about it being drugged, but dismissed it. After all, why should they bother?

She was completely in their power.

Peri made herself eat every sc.r.a.p of the unappetising food, was.h.i.+ng it down with the wine. Food was fuel.

When the meal was over she examined the bundle of garments on the bed. It consisted of a number of multicoloured robes, all thin, filmy and virtually transparent. It was easy to see what kind of rendezvous the General had in mind. Candlelight and violins probably wouldn't be a big feature.

Peri sat on the bunk, chin in hands, thinking furiously. There must be something she could do, some weakness of the General's she could play on.

She remembered something the Doctor had said about him.

'There's an enormous amount of ego under all that charm, a tremendous vanity...'

Was that the answer?

In her mind she replayed her conversation with the General at the reception. And afterwards in the courtyard by the fountain.

'It's an old trick,' she muttered. 'But it just might work!'

Peri picked up the eating knife from the tray. It was a simple instrument with a serrated edge, the sort of thing you got with airline food in her own time. Strange how little some things changed over the centuries.

She studied the knife for a moment. Then she unb.u.t.toned her dress and slid it from her shoulder.

Gritting her teeth, she began sc.r.a.ping at her own flesh with the plastic knife.

The Doctor and Commander Hawken were sitting in Lord Delmar's luxurious study, sipping champagne from Copernicus Two. The festive atmosphere was marred only by the presence of Reverend Mother Maren. She had refused all offers of refreshment and was standing silently behind Delmar's chair.

'A particularly fine vintage, this,' said Delmar. 'I trust you enjoyed your customs sample, Commander Hawken?'

'Only in the course of duty, my lord,' pleaded Delmar. 'I had to make sure that n.o.body was trying to poison you. Mr Smith was kind enough to join me in my researches.'

Lord Delmar smiled. 'Very n.o.ble of you both.' He turned to the Doctor. 'And now, Mr Smith, Commander Hawken gives me to understand that you may be able to a.s.sist us in this difficult situation.'

'The social amenities are over,' thought the Doctor: 'Time for business.'

'I very much hope so,' he said. 'To begin with, I must tell you that I am a Time Lord.'

'We suspected as much,' said Lord Delmar calmly.

'For that reason, I can tell you that the General is also a Time Lord.'

Lord Delmar gave a cackle of laughter. 'Takes one to know one, eh?'

'You might say that. There is usually an element of mutual recognition. Unfortunately, the General managed to seal his mind from me. It was only in the very last minutes that he dropped the s.h.i.+eld and I realised what and who he was.'

'And who is he?' asked Hawken bluntly.

'His name is Morbius. Not just a Time Lord, but the most powerful, the most dangerous of us all. He was our President for a time, but he was stripped of his office and exiled from Gallifrey for high treason.'

Lord Delmar nodded, apparently unimpressed. 'And what's the feller up to now?'

'Morbius tried to lead the Time Lords into a policy of warfare and conquest. He was expelled for his pains. Now he plans to carry out that policy himself. He aims to conquer the galaxy.'

'Using the kind of sc.u.m he brought here with him?' snorted Delmar. 'Fat chance!'

The Doctor leaned forward. 'Please don't underestimate him, my lord. You met him yourself, you must have formed some idea of his quality. He has tremendous charisma and almost hypnotic powers of persuasion. Not to mention almost unlimited funds. Moreover, he seems to be some kind of military genius.'

Delmar snorted again. 'Don't see it myself . Hawken here saw him off all right.'

'It was a d.a.m.ned close-run thing,' said Hawken. 'We had a great deal of luck, my lord and thanks to Smith here, we had considerable help from the Sisterhood! And he wasn't even here in force.'

'Look what he's achieved so far,' urged the Doctor. 'He's taken a bunch of s.p.a.ce pirates and welded them into an efficient fighting force. He'll use that force to conquer weaker planets and use them to make himself stronger. When he feels strong enough he'll turn to the more powerful planets, conquering them or making them his allies.'

'How?' demanded Delmar. 'What's he got to offer them?'

'Power,' said the Doctor. 'Power and immortality.' He glanced at Maren. 'That's why he tried to steal your stocks of the Elixir to bribe his a.s.sociates.'

'It brought him little profit,' croaked Maren.

'He sent a squad of men,' said the Doctor. 'Next time, when he feels strong enough, he will send an army.'

'Let him! We shall destroy that too.'

'Beware the sin of arrogance, Reverend Mother,' said the Doctor. 'You have great powers, but one bolt from a blaster can still end your immortality.'

Old Maren's eyes flashed with anger but she made no reply.

'All the same,' protested Lord Delmar, 'I find it hard to believe that one man even a Time Lord will be ever be able to achieve so much.'

'Do you?' said the Doctor. 'Many years ago, on old Earth, there was a humble lieutenant of artillery. He started with none of Morbius's advantages, but he rose to be Emperor of France and he took a bunch of ragged revolutionary soldiers and used them to conquer half the world.'

Lord Delmar nodded. 'Napoleon Bonaparte.' He smiled at the Doctor's surprise. 'The study of the history of old Earth is a hobby of mine. You really think this Morbius could be another Napoleon?'

'I fear so, my lord. I met the real one once, and they're very alike.'

Lord Delmar raised an eyebrow. 'Indeed? Perhaps we should find ourselves another Duke of Wellington!'

Impatient with all this historical byplay, Commander Hawken broke in.

'All right, Smith, we'll accept that this Morbius is highly dangerous. What do we do about him?'

'First, look to your defences. Get what help you can from the planets that use your Hospice. And above all, help the Sisterhood to guard the Temple of the Flame. One day Morbius will return. Karn and the Elixir are central to his plans.'

'Anything else?'

'Warn the Time Lords. Morbius is one of their own our own. It's the responsibility of the Time Lords to deal with him.'

'A task for you, surely Mr Smith,' said Lord Delmar gently.

'I suppose it is. But there are problems. It's true that I'm a Time Lord but I'm also a renegade.'

'Like Morbius?' said Hawken.

'Not in the least like Morbius. All I ever wanted was my freedom. He wants to conquer the cosmos, I just want to explore it. All the same, there are problems attached to my returning to Gallifrey.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' said Lord Delmar. There was an edge of steel in his voice. 'All the same, under the circ.u.mstances, I think we really must insist...'

'Oh, I'll go,' said the Doctor. 'I've done it before. Though as a result my liberty became somewhat circ.u.mscribed.'

'Locked you up, did they?' asked Hawken sympathetically.

'No, exiled me to Earth, which was almost as bad.' The Doctor turned to Lord Delmar. 'I'll willingly warn the Time Lords for you. But with your consent, and your help, I'd prefer to do so in a different ident.i.ty. I'd like you to send me there as Amba.s.sador of Karn.'

Lord Delmar considered for a moment.

'An excellent idea, Mr Smith. Consider yourself appointed!'