114.

Eyes blinked open, sweeping away the residue of unconsciousness, and an unfamiliar stone ceiling finally resolved into focus. A thumping headache continued to bang away at his frontal lobe, and it wasn't showing any sign of fading. There was no way of knowing how long he'd been out of it, but it could easily have been a few hours.

The Doctor was in the antechamber to the crypt, tied securely to a chair near the monitoring station. Febron, the brains behind the brawn of this very dodgy set-up, was busy making adjustments to the various systems that ran through it, her back turned towards him.

'It's not very sporting, is it, really? Sticking a great big hypo in someone's neck when they're not expecting it,' the Doctor complained. 'You could've given me some advance warning. I mean, had I known, I could have adjusted my physiology to counteract whatever tranquiliser you pumped into me, mitigate its effects. But no, bang, squidge, bleugh.' He lolled his head back, dangling his tongue, but Febron took no notice of his little piece of theatre.

Then again, what kind of cunning malevolent genius would warn someone when they were about to knock them out?' The Doctor sniffed and shook his head vigorously to clear it. 'Aw, what was that stuff, anyway? Ropivacaine? Fentanyl? My tongue feels like I've been licking envelopes for three months. Did you have to?'

Febron finally spoke, impatiently and without casting him a backward glance. 'You should have been 115.

unconscious for three months, considering the dosage I gave you.'

She finished what she was doing, and sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed, apparently now ready to engage in conversation.

'You know, you have a fascinating biology, Doctor. I've never seen anything quite like it.'

'Make the most of it. You'll never come across another one quite like mine.' As the Doctor spoke, he quietly tested the ropes that bound him to the chair, but was disappointed to find them expertly fastened.

If he'd had a grain of sand for every time he'd been tied up over the years, he'd probably have enough by now to form a comfy retirement planetoid in the Bournemouth Cl.u.s.ter. Not that he was planning on hanging up his trainers quite yet.

'Anyway, ignoring my fascinating biology, your boss thought we should have some fun talking Krillitane, so let's talk Krillitane. You been torturing them for long?'

'Firstly, Mister Henk is not my boss. He's merely my financial backer-'

'Sounds like a boss to me,' interrupted the Doctor, but Febron ignored him.

'And secondly I'm a scientist, not a butcher. My Krillitanes are being held under laboratory conditions. Their natural proclivity towards hunting demands that they are kept under lock and key, as much for their own safety as ours.'

'Laboratory conditions, eh? Funny that, because I could've sworn Henk called it a "farm".'

116.

Febron smiled icily. 'Perhaps not the word I would have chosen, but Mister Henk has a weakness for a colourful turn of phrase. Our project is a scientific and commercial venture, something rather more special than merely agricultural.' She paused, possibly concerned that she'd revealed too much. 'However, none of this is your concern.'

The Doctor watched her move away, but he wasn't going to let the conversation end there. 'Well, it is my concern, you see, because I've got a bit of a soft spot for this little planet, and I'm not overly happy with any bunch of suits and scientists who think it's OK to dump a herd of ruthless imperialist carnivores on it.'

'You've no need to worry. Once our business here is completed, we'll be in a position to create a purpose-built facility on a less developed world.'

'So, why here? Why Earth? If you plan to set up somewhere else anyway, why put the people of this planet at risk? There are a thousand uninhabited worlds out there you could be using right now.'

'Overheads and logistics, primarily. A native population at a certain stage of technological development gave us ready access to locally sourced food supplies and an easily adaptable infrastructure, like this rather beautiful building.' A flicker of guilt momentarily crossed Febron's face before she continued: Along with a ready supply of live meat for our stock.'

The thrill of the hunt improves the quality of the oil.' The Doctor recalled Henk's words. 'h.o.m.o sapiens. The 117.

gift that keeps on giving. I can't believe a biologist can have such disregard for an indigenous species.'

'We are all but links in the food chain, Doctor,' replied the scientist.

Though I must admit, that aspect does not sit well with me. I would rather we let them hunt domesticated or wild mammals, but they seem to prefer sustenance from higher life forms. I suppose we should have expected as much.'

'Considering they've built up a small empire basically eating their way through the inhabitants of the planets they've invaded, I'd say that should have been the least you'd have expected.'

'Perhaps. But Mister Henk is quite correct, it does improve the purity of their glandular secretions. The oil, as you call it."

The oil that you're "farming".' The Doctor craned his neck, trying to get a clear view of the screens behind Febron, wondering where the oil was being siphoned off to. 'But what do you need it for? What possible use could it be to you?'

Febron smiled and casually flicked off the monitor. She got up and walked behind the Doctor, patting him on the shoulder as she pa.s.sed by. 'You seem to be a clever boy. Work it out for yourself With that, she unlocked the door leading up into the Cathedral, and spoke to a monk standing guard outside.

'I need to prepare myself for this evening. Watch the prisoner, and if he tries anything, or talks too much, use this.' She handed the guard a hypo and left.

118.

The hooded monk watched her go, making sure she had disappeared from site before he closed and locked the door.

The Doctor gave him a cheerful wink. Looked like the strong silent type, he thought, which was good. He needed some peace and quiet to figure out what to do.

The monk took a step towards him and then, seeming to remember that the hood was all but covering his face, he reached up and pushed it back. 'Doctor,' he cried.

'Captain Darke. You clever old soldier.' The Doctor would happily have hugged the grizzled warrior, had he not been so effectively stuck to the chair. 'You couldn't untie me, could you? These ropes are beginning to chafe.'

The control centre was busy, fully manned and operational for the first time since its installation in one of the larger rooms leading off from the cloisters. There was abuzz of excitement about the place, nervous energy as the grand plan moved into a crucial phase.

Henk was deep in conversation with Branlo, standing near a flatbed monitor which showed a digital aerial representation of Worcester and the surrounding countryside. Coloured markers indicated the landing areas for five starships, each located at equidistant compa.s.s points, far enough from the city to avoid the attention of its inhabitants and each other. Smaller blinking blobs in matching colours indicated the current location of each ship's occupants.

119.

'We've had a transmission from the Calabrian shuttle.' Branlo was reading from his datapad. They had some stability issues when they made planetfall. They want to recalibrate their flight control before leaving their ship, and send apologies for the delay to their arrival.'

Henk wasn't concerned at this development. 'I was wondering where they'd got to. It's not important. The Calabrians aren't major players anyway. They don't carry the same financial clout as some of our prospective customers. The Octulan delegation, for example - I'm expecting big things from them. Besides, all they'll miss will be the drinks and nibbles. What about the others?'

Branlo checked his list. The Octulan vessel has landed at its designated safe zone. They should be on their way here now. The Vrelt are still complaining about the density of Earth's atmosphere, and the X Imperative are making themselves at home in their quarters. Well, running a sensor sweep to make sure they aren't being bugged, but it seems to make them happy.'

'And the Siilutrax?'

'Should be here any second. I sent Gee out to meet them.'

'Excellent. Which leaves our late-running Calabrians.' Henk pondered. 'Let's hope they make it before nightfall. It would be embarra.s.sing if they fell foul of our very own curfew. Perhaps I should instruct the Sheriff to lower the state of alert. I'm sure his troops would benefit from a night's rest.'

'Shall I run a final check on the presentation?'

120.

'No, no. We've run through it often enough. I don't want my performance to seem over-rehea.r.s.ed. Good work, Branlo. Carry on.'

As Henk made to leave, his attention was drawn to the security grid.

A sudden urge took him to check on preparations in the Chapter House.

Ignoring Archa, who sat sullenly at the terminal controls, doing his utmost to avoid being noticed by his boss, Henk reached in and switched security-cam views.

The Chapter House was the awe-inspiring venue for the evening's launch, and Henk had to admit that Earth's architects had a flair for grandiose simplicity. The cylindrical building contained just one large, round room, in which his people had constructed an impressive and sumptuous presentation s.p.a.ce. At its centre, supporting the shallow conical roof, was a thick, tall pillar, surrounded at its base by a stage. Behind this, filling a substantial proportion of the room, was a gla.s.screte-fronted containment tank.

Henk smiled. If his guests weren't hooked in by his well-practised sales pitch, then the contents of that tank would have them reaching for their banker's drafts in no time.

121.

NINE.

Nothing moved in the silent woodland. Emily stared at the dead Nwoman, whose body she'd discovered only minutes before but who was now apparently fully recovered and asking for help.

It had thrown Emily, still confused by the speed with which Henk's men had been killed, the ferocity of the attack. Why had she been spared?

The realisation immediately hit her that her situation had, if anything, just become a great deal more dangerous.

Emily blinked away the shock. 'Who are you?' she stammered. It was a lame question, but it was the only thought on her mind.

The Calabrian smiled gently, and bowed. 'I am Sister Toch'Lu of the Krillitane Horde, though you maybe more 123.

familiar with the name that Henk's servile vagabonds saw fit to give me - Toeclaw.'

The Doctor had been right about the Krillitanes' ability to disguise their true forms. Emily looked at the calm, friendly woman before her, astonished that this could be the same brutish creature she'd glimpsed through her binocs, feeding on one of its victims. That memory was too potent to forget in a hurry. She would have to tread carefully. There was going to be no easy way out of this.

'Why would you need my help to kill Henk? From what I've seen, he wouldn't stand a chance against you.'

'When the time comes, his life will be mine the instant I choose to take it." There was a hint of savagery behind the cultured tones of Toch'Lu, which was not lost on Emily. 'However,' the Krillitane continued, 'one needs to get close enough to one's prey before one can devour it, which is why I need you. Help me, and I shall ensure you do not come to any harm.'

Emily was well aware that she had no choice in the matter. She nodded. 'I'll help you. As it happens, I need to get back to the city, too. I have a friend there, so maybe we'll be able to help each other.'

Toch'Lu smiled, a smile as cold as the wintry mist clinging to the landscape around them, and offered a hand to Emily. She shook it, warily.

'Good. Good. Unfortunately we have little time. Follow me.'

Toch'Lu moved off, but Emily remained where she 124 124 was and nodded in the opposite direction. The city is that way.

Where are you taking me?"

'Don't worry, I've eaten.' Toch'Lu stopped, flashing a demonic grin over her shoulder. 'First we must find a suitable disguise for you, which will gain us entry to Henk's stronghold as if we were welcome guests. By a stroke of good fortune I know the very place.

The Calabrian ship is in this direction. There are uniforms aboard of which the crew no longer has any need.'

Emily watched as Toch'Lu continued on her way, obviously confident that the girl would follow her. Compared to the fate that had befallen her attackers, Emily realised she was doing well, for the time being at least. Still, it didn't make her feel any less uneasy about her current predicament.

They marched for a mile or so in silence, Emily keeping her distance from the Krillitane, watching for any sign of betrayal.

Finally, they arrived in a cleared area of dense woodland which had obviously been prepared as a serviceable landing area for the Calabrian ship.

Toch'Lu had been honest about one thing - the crew really wouldn't be needing anything any more. A fresh pile of bones near the frigate's main hatch, which Emily did her best to ignore, suggested the Krillitane had already made herself a fine meal from the ship's crew.

The crew's quarters are through there.' Toch'Lu pointed towards a cabin along the main access corridor. 'Apologies for the mess. One of the crew was particularly evasive.'

125.

Emily stepped gingerly into the cabin, noting the smears of blood trailing across a bulkhead where some poor Calabrian had tried desperately to cling to life. She quickly changed into a close-fitting security guard's coverall. It was ideal: the uniform included a helmet with an opaque visor that would disguise her lack of forehead cartilage, such a prominent feature of the Calabrian race. This disguise was certainly more comfortable than the last one, she thought, adjusting a light but well-equipped Calabrian utility belt to sit better on her hips.

She was ready. Checking that Toch'Lu couldn't see, Emily took her phase pistol from her parka and hid it beneath the armour padding of her new clothes, close enough to get to quickly if things turned nasty.

'It was fortuitous I came across you when I did.' The Krillitane's voice echoed through from the flight deck. 'Henk is no doubt expecting a delegation rather than an individual. Questions might have been asked.'

'Well, let's not keep him waiting,' replied Emily, grimly.

That's the second time I've been tied up in less than twenty-four hours. Business as usual.' The Doctor stretched, glad to have full use of his limbs once again. 'Nice outfit. Where did you get it?'

Darke looked down at the ca.s.sock that disguised his armour. 'It belonged to our mystery visitor. The dead man we found last night.

It is a bit bloodstained, but you can't really tell against the black cloth.'

126.

'Wish I hadn't asked.'

'It served its purpose. I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, or I would've been able to warn you. At least they haven't killed you.'

'Always a bonus. How are things outside? Come to think of it, I don't even know what time it is.'

'Late afternoon, approaching dusk. There are a great many comings and goings.'

'Really?' asked the Doctor, thoughtfully. Both Henk and Febron had seemed preoccupied, excited even. 'I wonder if today's the big day?'

Sitting back down in the chair he'd vacated only moments before, the Doctor wheeled over to the computer terminal, sticking on his spectacles as he did so. With a flick of a switch, the screens glared brightly in the darkened room, and the Doctor leaned forward, fascinated. Now he had some idea of context, the myriad of data before him began to make perfect sense.

Darke, however, was almost overcome by the sudden glimpse of this technological devilry. Uncomfortable, he backed away. 'What is this, Doctor? These symbols that dance, this unnatural light...

Such things are impossible.'

'Oh, the impossible is usually just a possible you hadn't thought of before. I knew someone once who tried to do twelve impossible things before breakfast. Always ended up burning his toast. Ah!' the Doctor exclaimed, enthusiastically.

'What? Are you hurt?' Darke stepped forward, hand 127 127 on the hilt of his sword, fully expecting the strange metal monster to leap into life and attack.

'No, no, it's fine.'

The Doctor pointed at the view he'd called up on one of the screens. One of Henk's monks was welcoming three tall, grey aliens in the nave. Those fellas there are Siilutrax, and unless they just happened to pop by for a cuppa, then they must be here to do business with the Bishop.'