Thoughtfully, the Doctor worked his way through various other cameras. No wonder Henk had been keen to keep him locked up and out of the way. The Cathedral was buzzing with activity.

'Interesting. They're pumping the Krillitane Oil out to a small plant in one of the buildings near the river. It's going into barrels. Easy to sell, barrels. But first it's going through some kind of distillation process.' He looked over at the sealed door leading into the crypt. 'In there.'

Darke followed his gaze. These Krillitanes are the horrors of which you spoke before? The monsters from beyond the stars?'

'Not really from beyond the stars as such, more various little bunches of stars they've plundered and called their own.'

Then who are these people who have taken control of the Cathedral?'

'A different kind of monster. All too common. One fuelled by greed and avarice and profit. So the big question is, which monster do I deal with first, and how?'

128.

The Doctor checked the data streams monitoring the life signs of the imprisoned Krillitanes, this time paying more attention to the finer details. 'Well, I suppose as we're here already, we might as well start with the Krillitanes. They're being fed on a perfectly balanced diet, a mixture of vitamins, proteins and animal fat, via nutrient tubes, but Febron is mixing in a constant flow of sedatives.

If I alter the dose, then I should be able to revive one of them, get some answers.'

'Or we could slit their throats while they sleep.' Darke suggested, glancing sideways at the Doctor. 'Killing two birds with one stone. No more monsters.'

In cold blood? Not my style, Captain. Not my style at all.' With that, the Doctor made his decision, reducing the flow of sedatives to the Krillitane that looked closest to consciousness. The same Krillitane that Febron had been tending to earlier.

'Prepare yourself, Captain. You're about to meet the Devil's Huntsman in person. All thirteen of them.'

The dreams folded in upon each other, a mess of sights and sounds, some memories, some imagined, but all so real.

The Brood Mother, falling away from him, always just out of reach, her head engulfed in flame, screaming, dying. Then the wide, fat visage of Henk, laughing in his face. Broken Wing lashed out, but his arms were no longer there, and Henk dissolved, mutating into Febron, holding some blunt metal object, pushing it into his body.

129.

A roar of anger, mute in his chest. There was nothing he could do.

Nothing.

And then there was the unmistakable sound of prey, the cautious footfalls, the scent of an easy kill.

Darke's sword was in his hand, his senses screaming at him to run, to get away from the nightmare beasts that hung in the half-light all around him. He gripped the hilt of his sword even tighter, ready to defend himself against inevitable attack. They walked slowly through the pillars, towards the alcove where one of the beasts was beginning to stir.

Broken Wing lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps, and the Doctor stopped instantly. The Krillitane blinked weakly at him, not yet fully conscious, but close to it. Close enough to be dangerous.

'Krillitane. We have a common enemy. The man that holds you and your brothers captive. Henk.'

The Krillitane let out a terrifying hiss at the name, back arched, striking out with his claws. After a moment it began to weaken, its arms falling back, limply.

'Are you sure about this, Doctor? This beast. It is the very Devil.'

Darke whispered. He had lost any faith in a benevolent G.o.d many battles ago, but had never discounted the existence of the Lord's opposite number. He had never thought he might encounter the Devil face to face, however.

'Quite sure.' The Doctor stepped closer towards the 130 130 injured alien, examining a trail of wounds seared across its body, the scar betraying a surgical procedure having taken place at the nape of its neck.

The Doctor carefully tested the area with his fingertips, feeling a solid lump that suggested an implant of some kind had been grafted to the Krillitane's cerebral cortex.

They really have worked a number on you, haven't they?' he said softly, crouching down to make eye contact. 'What happened?'

An orange eye rolled from Darke to the Doctor, and Broken Wing spoke, his voice pained and cracked. 'What business is it of yours? This is a matter for the Brood. They killed her. They killed the Brood Mother, and we shall have our vengeance.' His voice cracked as his body convulsed into a fit of coughing, and he was visibly weaker when the spasms eventually subsided.

The Doctor glanced at the remote panel linked to Broken Claw's cell nearby, and expertly adjusted a few settings. 'I'm increasing the pain-relief dosage. It should help. I met your Brood Mother, and she was very much alive. There's a good chance she still could be.'

Broken Claw could already feel the agony of his wounds easing.

The hated blue scientist, Febron, had administered only a minimum dosage, and it had made little difference.

'She's dead. We each have a neural inhibitor implant. If she had escaped, Henk would have sent a remote signal, an electrical bolt causing total neural meltdown. She could not have survived.'

131.That explained the device he'd found beside the body in the alley, thought the Doctor. A control box allowing a handler to punish his charge with various degrees of pain via the implant, if it threatened to misbehave. Of course Henk would have had a long-range, failsafe backup, just in case.

'But how did your Brood end up here? Krillitane aren't exactly pushovers. How did Henk capture you?'

'Why should I tell you?' Broken Wing spat back. 'You are just another humanoid, no doubt in league with Henk.'

'If I was, surely I'd already know?'

'Doctor, you speak with the monster as if in conversation, but the beast replies with the growls of an animal. How do you understand it?' Darke asked, perplexed.

'Long story, but he can understand every word you say, so mind your Ps and Qs.' The Doctor turned back to Broken Wing, who was studying the Doctor slyly.

'Your animal smells of sweat and fear, surely an indigenous creature. A primitive. But you? Your scent is not familiar. What are you?'

'Oh, nothing much, in the grand scheme of things. Just a pa.s.ser-by. Tell me what happened. I can help.'

Broken Wing considered his situation. He could feel his strength returning, and soon he would be able to break free of his bonds. He could kill this puny biped then, if he so chose, but perhaps there might be some advantage in keeping the Doctor alive. His obvious 132 132 medical skills could be useful in reviving the rest of the Brood. Yes, he would tell the Doctor his story. There was no shame in it.

The journey is not important. We were fugitives, forced to flee our homeworld along with our Brood. We travelled to a region of the galaxy where the Krillitane are unknown, where we could stay hidden from our enemies, and settled on a densely populated planet, rich with meat and the opportunity to hunt. But one of our young fell ill.'

'Someone she ate? Sorry. Bad taste.' The Doctor winced. 'Sorry.

Ignore me. Carry on.'

Broken Wing waited for any more foolish interruptions before continuing. 'Under normal circ.u.mstances, the weakling would have been excluded from the Brood, but we were already of limited number and the loss of a future warrior was not an option. That was when we encountered the blue scientist, Belima Febron.'

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. 'I bet she couldn't believe her luck. A brand new, unknown alien life form, walking right in through her front door.'

'She had a good reputation, and we were desperate,' Broken Wing told him. 'We took the form of her race and made contact with her.

She is a skilled biologist and saved the youngling, but in the process she learnt enough of our physiology to become a threat. I should have killed her then. What we didn't know was that she had entered into partnership with a business a.s.sociate in order to fund her own research. Soon after, she and Henk 133.

arrived at our hiding place while we slept, armed with tranquilliser guns and manpower. Since then we have been prisoners. No, worse, nothing more than cattle, to be experimented upon.' Broken Wing shuddered and hissed through his fangs.

'Funny you should mention cattle, cos in a way that's what they're using you for. A herd of cattle.' The Doctor rocked on his heels, still crouching to maintain eye contact with the Krillitane. They're milking you. Well, oiling, I suppose you'd call it. Taking your oil and filtering it and draining it into barrels. Why would they be doing that, do you think?'

Broken Wing didn't answer for a moment. He could feel the cold hypersteel tubes that penetrated the skin painfully beneath his jaw, stabbing into two small glands which produced the very fluid that made the Krillitane what they were. A unique species in all the universe. The Oil is our essence, Doctor. The source of our greatest achievements. It gives us the power to evolve on our own terms, to adapt and to survive, to fashion ourselves into the ultimate life form.

Yet while it enables us to do great things, it has d.a.m.ned our race to its core.'

'You call the slaughter of the entire Bessan civilisation a great achievement? No wonder your own bodies are trying to poison you.'

The Krillitane's eyes narrowed. 'You know of my race?'

'Yeah, and to be honest I'd usually have no sympathy for you, but today you got lucky. I need to get you off this 134 134 planet, before you decide to pilfer its infinite biological diversity and mash it up into whatever you decide looks pretty next.' The Doctor made another adjustment to the life-support systems, then stood up and began to walk away. 'But I promise you, I will do my best to get you out of here. All of you.'

'Where are you going?' the Krillitane hissed, irritated by the Doctor's impudence. 'If Henk is your enemy, then we are friends.

Release me, and we can join forces against him.'

The Doctor stopped beside Darke, who had been hanging back for most of the bizarre, seemingly one-sided exchange. The moment I set you free, I become a free lunch, and there's no such thing. You can stay up there for now, until I figure out what to do with you. I'll be back.'

Broken Wing stared after the pair as they disappeared into the shadows in silence. As a wave of impotent anger grew within him, he recognised the cloudy sensation of sedation clawing at his consciousness. His lip curled as he committed the Doctor's scent to memory. There would be a reckoning.

135.

TEN.

*ind how you go, Sam,' John Garrud cried warmly after the old 'M man, his best customer, staggering away through the snow.

Old Samuel was always the last to leave, and tonight was no exception. Silly old fool always managed to get home in one piece, whatever state he was in. The Huntsman would've taken one sniff of the inebriated gent and left him well enough alone.

John sighed, and stared up at the dark sky. Not even a glimpse of the setting sun tonight, only thick clouds, threatening another snowstorm. After all the fuss and terror of the previous night, a heavy snowfall didn't hold the same sense of foreboding as it used to.

He was about to shut and bolt the door when he heard hurried footsteps crunching on the snow further 137.

along the street. Too early for the first patrol, thought the innkeeper. He held the door open, just a crack, enough to have a bit of a nose at whoever was about to pa.s.s by, and pressed his eye against the crack, waiting for them to come into view. So long as it wasn't another stranger like that Doctor fellow. He'd been pleasant enough company, but the last thing they needed was for their inn to get a reputation for harbouring murderous scoundrels and miscreants, however well mannered.

A few moments later and there they were, two figures, soldiers possibly, clad in unusual orange armour. One of them had the bearing of aristocracy, a hooded cloak billowing in the wind behind her. The other, walking at a measured distance behind, was obviously a bodyguard, albeit slight in stature.

As they pa.s.sed, the lead figure suddenly glared directly towards John's hiding place, and inclined her head in a bow. There was no way she could have seen him, and her smile chilled his bones to the marrow.

Alarmed, John shut the door and slammed the bolt home, leaning against it for good measure.

Best not mention that to the wife, he decided.

Henk took a sip from his gla.s.s and watched the a.s.sorted new arrivals warily interact or avoid contact altogether, and fleetingly worried that a meet-and-greet function before the main show might have been a mistake.

The atmosphere in the Rectory was uncomfortable to say the least.

Amongst the delegates, at least two groups 138 138 had a history of inter-species conflict, though Henk had known that already, and was counting on their antipathy influencing the course of negotiations. That none of them knew the precise nature of Henk's product was also causing hackles to be raised to match their expectations.

He had brought together this disparate group very particularly, carefully selected to ensure that he had something to offer each and every one of them, a product that would fulfil any number of very unique requirements, and that some would be desperate to obtain if they saw their historic enemies doing so. Maximum profitability was his primary concern.

A quiet cough from behind snapped him out of his reverie. It was Branlo.

'Sir, the Calabrian delegate and her escort have just arrived,' the lad whispered discreetly, not wishing to spend any more time amongst these business people than he had to. These alien races freaked him out.

'About time. Hurry them along, Branlo. The others are becoming restless. I think it's time to kick off the main event.'

Henk noticed Belima, nervously clutching a gla.s.s of some herbal infusion and avoiding eye contact with anyone that threatened to pa.s.s too close. He wandered over to her.

'You look radiant.' He smiled, meaning it. He usually went for blondes, but blue was equally appealing. Perhaps, when all this was over, they could get to know each other better while watching the profits roll in. 'Don't worry, I 139.

won't make you talk to any of them in person.'

'Good job. It's bad enough my work has to be reduced to a commodity in order for it to reach its fullest potential.' Febron gazed into her gla.s.s, as if looking for answers. She'd known where things were going when she'd first signed on with Henk, and it was pointless bemoaning the depths one had to sink to simply to secure funding. Her work was more important.

'After tonight, everything you've striven for, all your sacrifices will have been worth it. And the universities and corporations that shied away from the moral ambiguities of what you have achieved will regret their lack of vision.' Henk laid a rea.s.suring hand on her shoulder. The final delegate has arrived, so we can begin.'

The Doctor's eyes sparkled, staring into a small gla.s.s vial suspended amongst an intricate web of electronics and filtering equipment, where a dense yellow fluid gathered slowly, dripping from the nozzle of a bra.s.s tube. 'She's brilliant. Quite brilliant,' he muttered, as another tiny drip plopped silently into the vial.

All the Krillitanes seem to do is sleep and eat,' Darke muttered, paying little attention to the contraption that so entranced the Doctor.

Instead, he nervously watched the far end of the crypt for any sign that the winged creature had slipped its bonds. 'Your collection of bottles and pipes may be fascinating, but I'm more concerned that the beast will only sleep for so long, before indulging in its other favourite pastime.'

140.

'No need to worry about him,' the Doctor said absently, concentrating on unclipping the vial of precious fluid and carefully lifting it out of the spaghetti-like mess of technology. 'I made sure he'll get a full night's sleep. He won't be bothering anyone for a while. Probably have a bit of a head on him when he wakes up, though.'

Decanting the viscous fluid into a test tube he'd retrieved from his jacket pocket, the Doctor squeezed a rubber stopper in the end, before pushing the now empty vial back into its resting place with a click. That'll set them back a bit I should think. Right. Come on.' The Doctor leapt to his feet and ran off in the direction of the anteroom.

Darke took another look into the shadows before hurrying after him. He was happier once they were on the other side of the reinforced security door, trapping the monsters on the other side.

The Doctor was already sitting at the monitoring station, chattering away excitedly. The thing about the Krillitanes, the really amazing thing about them, is that they don't have to wait for thousands of generations to evolve. If they find a weakness in their physiology, they can change it. All they need to do is find another species with the attribute they need, and they take it. Bang. Next generation, problem solved. A species that truly controls its own destiny.'

Darke shrugged. There was a reason he'd chosen soldiering over a career as an apothecary.

Recognising the blank stare of incomprehension on the 141 141 soldier's face, the Doctor remembered that the universal truths of the twelfth century were very different to those of the human race post-Darwin. Well, most of them.

'Sorry, I'm racing ahead a bit. Missed out the Reformation and the Renaissance entirely, but they're not really your problem. All you need to understand is that the Krillitanes have the power to take the essence of any living creature they choose, and make it part of themselves.'

'You make them sound like G.o.ds. Vengeful G.o.ds.' Darke glanced at the security door, not so sure that mere metal could hold back such powerful beings.

'Oh, not so much "vengeful". Not even malicious really. As far as they're concerned, it's their birthright. They've leapfrogged their way up the food chain, quicker than their culture could mature.

Super-intelligent, hyper-evolved geniuses, but with the mentality of pack animals, governed by their primal urge to hunt. More like a gang of selfish, greedy children with unrestricted access to a sweet shop.'

The Doctor sniffed. 'Anyway, everything the Krillitanes are, everything they do, is the result of an evolutionary quirk of fate, an insignificant hiccup in the grand scheme of things. Just a few thousand years ago, a tiny gland that controlled their ancestors' ageing process started producing a brand new chemical.' He jiggled the test tube of oil extract, a look of wonder on his face. 'Never seen before in all of time and s.p.a.ce, and suddenly they became unique in the universe.