Her mother began to speak. 'Plans for the exploitation of planet Lucifer. Copy two of two. Cla.s.sification Most Secret: Eyes only. Overview. Overview begins.

'h.e.l.lo, Legion. As you are no doubt aware, the current status of Project Eden is somewhat less than ideal. With the political situation being what it is, I have... persuaded... the Board of Directors of the Holding Company to accede to my wish to return control of the Project to a commercial body; one which will be able to carry out the mission objectives without complications and without delays. I am pleased that your company picked up first refusal on the contract; IMC has a reputation for getting the job done at minimum cost, and we all know how important that is in today's marketplace.'

The image of Madrigal LaFayette smiled thinly. 'The Board has approved your plan to remove the planetary atmosphere to facilitate exploitation of the core. For details, see the file labelled "Methodology". Preliminary checks confirm our suspicions that the planetary core material is of a previously unknown, stable, high*atomic*weight element, and hence of incalculable commercial value. The placement of an IMC agent on Eden is approved, as is your suggestion to terminate employment of current staff. Nominal contractual obligations will have to be honoured, but these should not provide any of the staff with enough credit to book pa.s.sage with IMC back to Earth.'

Christine tried to quell the sick feeling welling up in her stomach. Her mother, her own mother, responsible for the deaths of her friends. The thought was appalling.

'Your a.s.sessment of the indigenous life forms, named Angels, as being non*intelligent and therefore unimportant is also confirmed. And of course,' she added, 'there will be a bonus, as discussed, when Psychologist Christine LaFayette is returned, unharmed, to my office. I invested too many adjusted ergs circ.u.mventing the Eugenics Lottery to have the result waste herself on a guilt trip for planet Earth. Oh, and one more thing. I am aware of the particular... problems... that your planet is facing at the moment. I trust you not to let it affect your judgement. Good day, Legion. Overview terminates.'

The screen darkened.

So that was how her mother saw her. A 'result'. She laughed with a mixture of loathing and contempt. Not a child, not a woman, not even a human being, but simply a result. An investment. A showpiece of her mother's corporate power.

'f.u.c.k you, mother,' she whispered softly. 'f.u.c.k you to h.e.l.l and back.'

She began to cry.

But she still accessed the file ent.i.tled 'METHODOLOGY'.

The Doctor stood up, extended a hand to Miles, and helped the Administrator to his feet. Miles stood, trembling, his face pale and sweaty.

Teal exchanged looks with Cheryl. 'I didn't think we were going to see him up and around again.'

Cheryl brought a finger to her lips. 'Shh!'

Miles was talking softly. 'Yonder in the north, there is singing on the lake. Cloud maidens dance on the sh.o.r.e. There we take our being.'

Teal frowned. 'I don't understand. What's he talking about?'

Cheryl hissed, 'It's part of the Tewa story of origin. The legend of how the tribe began. Paula told it to me once. Now shut up, it might be important.'

'Yonder in the north, cloud beings rise. They ascend unto cloud blossoms. There we take our being.'

The Doctor stared raptly at Miles, his eyes wide, drinking in the imagery. There were answers here, he was sure of it. Connections. His lips moved almost silently. 'Come on, Miles. Tell me the rest. Tell me it all.'

'Yonder in the north, rain stands over the land. Yonder in the north stands forth at twilight the arc of a rainbow. There we have our being.'

Ace forced Bernice at gun*point through the jury*rigged remains of the Base's main airlock. Only hours before, the IMC troops had hyperglued a temporary 'lock on the outside of the Base to hold air as they blasted their way inside. Bernice had admired the pragmatism, if not the intent. Forget about picking locks; just blow the d.a.m.n thing open.

Ace caught her glance, as she directed her through the new 'lock. 'It's quicker. Also there's the shock value. Always useful when you need immediate compliance. Here. Put this s.p.a.cesuit on.'

Bernice shuddered as she obeyed the girl's instruction. 'Of course, the psychological angle. I don't know why I didn't see it myself.'

'You're being sarcastic again, Bernice. Why do you hate me so much?'

'It's not you I hate, it's what you've become.'

Ace was silent for the few minutes it took them to walk across the broken surface of Belial to the parked IMC executive transporter. They climbed in through the airlock after Ace deactivated the security lasers. The hold behind them was already full of pa.s.sengers: high*spirited troopers and a disdainful Alex Bannen.

Dumping her suit as soon as she could, Bernice was forced to wait as Ace racked hers neatly before leading the way up to the control cabin.

'Take a seat,' Ace said.

Bernice settled into the co*pilot's couch as Ace prepared the executive transporter for take*off.

'What's Bannen doing here?' Bernice asked.

'He is Coordinator, now. I'm supposed to take him to Moloch Base after I've dropped you off on the Insider Trading Insider Trading. He could take the new Lift, of course, but the fat idiot just wants to throw his weight around.'

'So, we're going to the IMC flagship. Want to tell me why?'

Ace was silent.

'Ace, I asked you a question.'

'Don't push it, Bernice. I told you before not to confuse me. I have enough to deal with every time the Doctor opens his mouth.'

Savagely, she shoved her thumb down on the initiate sequence initiate sequence switch and the executive transporter's engines thundered briefly, lifting the craft clear of the moon. switch and the executive transporter's engines thundered briefly, lifting the craft clear of the moon.

'But you wouldn't be confused if you weren't travelling with the Doctor any more, would you?' Bernice said quietly.

Ace set the executive transporter on auto*control and swivelled in her chair to stare at Bernice. 'I wouldn't bank on it,' she whispered.

Bernice gazed through the executive transporter's viewscreen as the immense bulk of Lucifer slipped gradually higher above Belial's bleak horizon. Several hundred kilometres away, she knew, the IMC ships were a.s.suming orbit, deploying for the best position. She strained her eyes, but the scarlet glare of Lucifer obscured any tiny glints of reflected sunlight from the fleet.

She looked sideways once more at Ace. 'Do you trust IMC any more than you trust the Doctor? Do you trust Legion?'

'Legion is my line officer. I trust it completely.' She turned back to the controls. 'I trust it with my life.'

Bernice shuddered at the change in Ace's voice. 'And everyone else's lives? Do you trust Legion with them as well?'

Ace did not reply.

Miles Engado slumped once again to the floor, his wave of verbosity apparently expended with the end of the Tewa story of origin.

The Doctor regarded him sadly, aware that the best thing he could do was simply to leave the man alone. At least he'd managed to convey the gist of his conversation with Paula, or rather, with the thing she had become.

'What now?' Cheryl whispered.

The door opened with a soft click.

'Aha! That'll be Bernice, and not before time, either.' The Doctor turned to the door with a smile, which faded when he found that it wasn't Bernice who was standing there, but Bishop. The smile came back full force when he saw the two troopers who were lying, either unconscious or dead, outside the room.

Teal and Cheryl gazed in surprise at the newcomer.

Bishop sighed. 'I do hope you aren't planning to spend the next few minutes of this escape engaged in a similar lack of motion,' he said calmly.

The Doctor blinked. 'I'm glad you have decided which side you're on, Trau Bishop. Cheryl, you and Teal get up to Operations. I need to find out what's going on there. Try not to get caught. Meet Trau Bishop and myself in the Mushroom Farm as soon as you have any useful information.'

'Sure. What about Miles?' Cheryl said.

'I think it'll be best if we leave him here.'

'If you say so. Come on, Teal.'

After checking the pa.s.sage was clear, Cheryl led Teal from the office, stepping over the guards on the way.

'Trau Bishop?'

'It's a long story. I'll tell you on the way.'

In another moment, the room was empty. A few minutes pa.s.sed with only Miles Engado's shallow breathing to break the silence. Then, with no appreciable change of expression, the Base Administrator clambered stiffly to his feet and moved to his desk. Sliding aside a gla.s.s door, Miles removed the ancient medicine wheel from the desk and, clutching the device to his chest, walked slowly from the office.

Chapter Sixteen.

The troopers in the back of the executive transporter were jabbering away like schoolkids on an outing. They didn't seem to mind that it was cramped, and dirty, and smelled of old sweat. Alex Bannen, Base Coordinator pro tem pro tem, had squeezed himself into a corner and was trying, haughtily and without much success, to ignore their sarcastic jibes.

Ace, sitting up front beside Bernice, could feel hard fingers of tension digging into the muscles of her neck. Jerks and morons: she was surrounded by them.

Jeez, how had she got herself into this?

As she guided the executive transporter towards one of the myriad spiracle airlocks which lined the gothic bulk of the Insider Trading Insider Trading, she remembered her careers master, long ago, asking her what she wanted to be when she left school.

I want to be a racing driver.

If only you could go back and talk to yourself, she thought; sit yourself down in a nice snug bar somewhere, and tell yourself about the rocks ahead, draw a map of life's rosy path as it winds through the swamps and the man*traps, dole out some advice and then get absolutely rat*a.r.s.ed with yourself. Look kid; grab hold of Dave at Ange's party and snog his brains out. He wants you to, and if you don't do it, you'll regret it. Don't go off to Margate with Julian when he asks, 'cos when you come back, your dad'll be in hospital with a stroke, and he'll never wake up, and you'll wish you'd been with him for those last precious moments after all those years apart. If you see a pair of cheetah*spot leggings in a shop in Salisbury, don't buy them, because you'll look like a right pranny wearing them and n.o.body will dare tell you.

If you find yourself serving in a bar on Iceworld, stay there.

If you see a large blue box, don't go in it.

Never wear a uniform.

Never fall in love.

I want to be a racing driver.

'I need to ask you some questions,' Bishop panted as he raced to keep up with the Doctor through the aeons*old, alien*built corridors that led from the Pit into the heart of Belial. He couldn't understand how the Doctor's legs could be so short and yet cover the ground so quickly.

'Ask away, Adjudicator Bishop. Ask away.'

The Doctor turned a corner into another of the dead*s.p.a.ce corridors. Bishop followed, and was aghast to see the Doctor already fifty yards away.

'Federique Moshe*Rabaan!' he yelled, pounding past the dark openings of offshoot corridors.

'Lovely lady. What about her?' a voice floated back.

'You did find her body first, didn't you?'

The Doctor had turned off again, far ahead. Bishop's footsteps clanged on metal grillework, slowing to a halt as he came to the turning, stopping as he found a junction of five dark openings, any one of which the Doctor could have vanished into.

'You found her and you didn't tell me,' he whispered. 'You left it for Shmuel Zehavi. You didn't tell me.'

'I had my reasons.' The words echoed faintly from the left*hand corridor. Bishop took a deep breath and set off in pursuit.

'You kept information from me,' Bishop shouted. 'That's a crime!' He checked himself, and muttered. 'Well, it was was a crime.' a crime.'

The Doctor almost smiled. 'For me, concealing information is a crime. For IMC, obtaining information is a crime. The law moves in mysterious ways, doesn't it, Adjudicator?'

There was a dog*leg turn ahead where the corridor narrowed down and turned back on itself. Bishop slowed, and squeezed through the constriction.

'I wanted you to suspect me and lock me up, so that the real killer would feel more secure and come out into the open,' the Doctor said. His voice was loud and clear, albeit slightly m.u.f.fled by the neutron cannon which was pressing his face against the wall.

'They're all out of breath,' Ardamal said in mock*sympathy.

'Let's make it permanent,' growled Kreig, as her cannon swung to cover Bishop. 'I could do with some new ears.'

Methodology.

Christine stood glaring at the starsuit's virtual screen for a long time after the simularity faded.

Methodology.

A simple word for an appalling crime. A meaningless word; a mask behind which you could hide anything which you didn't want the shareholders to find out about, or didn't want to think about too hard yourself. A label attached to a hidden horror.

A movement outside the executive transporter attracted her attention. She watched as another shuttle penetrated the osmotic field of the bay, slowed to a halt and descended into an open s.p.a.ce. Technicians ran forward with magnetic grapples. The troopers who had been sc.r.a.ping the remains of their friends from the back of Christine's executive transporter moved out to form an honour guard.

Displacement activity, she thought. Typically Freudian. I've got a conflict of desires, because I know I have to act on what I've learned, but I don't want to have to think about it, so instead I concentrate on trivialities like looking out of the window. Come on, Christine! Pull yourself together and get back to the matter in hand.

She called back the simularity and watched, sickened, as the mottled crimson bulk of Lucifer rotated sedately before her. Belial and Moloch swung past, linked by the rainbow filament of the Bridge, distorted by false perspective so that Belial loomed larger than its sibling, and scooted faster across the simularity's field of vision. A slight disturbance in Lucifer's atmosphere was the only sign that something was wrong: a whirlpool centred on a speck of light where, moments before, there had been nothing. And then Lucifer's atmosphere seemed to stretch towards the blazing point. Another spiral of gas, a storm in a teacup, drifted into sight higher up around the planet's horizon. And another, lower down but traversing the face of the planet towards the pole, dragging the atmosphere with it. With a motion of her finger, Christine pulled down an information box containing a skeletal representation of the main picture with the animation accelerated for effect. Eight points danced around Lucifer; their orbits criss*crossing its surface in a complex web. Equations scrolled past; orbital element sets, thermal convectivities, gravitational gradients, Doppler*distorted spectra. It was like trying to fathom Venusian, but the simularity made a good Rosetta stone.

The points were black holes: quantum collapsars...o...b..ting Lucifer, sucking away its atmosphere in a scream of hard gamma*rays. Tamed, and under control. So that was her mother's plan: strip the planet of its atmosphere and clear the way for concentrated robotic mining of the core. Screw the planet, screw the Angels, keep your eyes fixed firmly on the profit margin.