'I wouldn't be so sure of that,' said Prubert, peering out of one the windows.

Outside, in the vacuum of s.p.a.ce, dozens of figures were shimmering into existence. They floated languidly through the nothingness.

More flickered into existence. Each one a hazy, misshapen ma.s.s. Each one two-dimensional. Drifting, drifting, their skin as white as bone.

Ceccecs. Hundreds of them.

206.

Chapter Twelve.

The Tomorrow Peephole

Fitz pressed his hands against the gla.s.s. 'They followed us?'

'There's no way that can happen,' said Charlton. 'Impossible.'

'Oh, right,' said Fitz. 'Have you told them that?'

The Ceccecs drifted through the vacuum. The way their bodies flickered made them seem to be flutterlng, as though in a breeze. Each one was a shifting blur of static. They floated gracefully, their heads turning from side to side. Their clown-white faces were featureless apart from pits for eyes and mouth. Each wore a high-collared black mourning suit.

'What are these. . . things?' said Prubert.

The Doctor frowned at the blackness. 'Ceccecs,' he muttered. 'Artificial creations. They're being controlled. Guided Guided.'

'Guided? By what?'

Before the Doctor could reply, a sharp hiss came from behind them. Fitz turned, a cold shiver skittering down his spine.

It was between them at the tele-doors. The undertaker flickered and interference patterns scrolled across its body. It shimmered like a video image caught between two frames, its arms reaching forwards. It floated upon a mist of tracking lines.

Fitz backed away from the Ceccec, and into Charlton. Charlton look so terrified he might burst into tears. Prubert stared at the creature in fearful awe. Together they edged along the corridor, away from the creature.

The Doctor didn't move. He remained where he was, watching the Ceccec.

'Charlton. Warn your people. . . '

'What are we going to do?' said Charlton. 'It's blocking our only way out.'

'Somebody wants us dead,' said the Doctor. 'It seems the time for playing games is over.'

The Ceccec gave an angry burst of static and began to float across the floor towards them.

The Doctor sprang into action. 'Run!'

The green flashing dots on the screen are reflected in Martin's spectacles. He bites his lower lip in concentration, his fingers rattling across the b.u.t.tons and switches. The console bleeps and bloops like an OMD B-side.

207.

'You're going to kill them?' I ask.

Martin nods, clicking something that resembles a s.p.a.ce-bar as he frowns at the screen. The screen displays a schematic map of Charlton's s.p.a.ce station. A flashing green dot is chasing four flashing green dots, while more green dots collect around the outside, flaring into life like fireflies. 'This has gone on long enough.'

'What about me?'

He stops s.p.a.ce-barring and looks at me over his gla.s.ses. 'I've saved your life,' he says, as though that answers everything.

'I think "deciding not to kill someone" isn't quite the same thing as saving their life. . . '

'If you like,' considers Martin, returning to the screen. 'Either way, you owe your continued existence to me. So be nice.'

I watch him. If I can catch him off guard, maybe I can overpower him. I could creep up behind, grab him around the neck. He seems to be concentrating on the control panel. He won't notice if I Martin sighs. 'Don't try anything, Trix.' Without turning round, he opens a drawer and pulls out a futuristic-looking pistol and aims it at my head.

'Resistance is. . . oh, no, it's really too embarra.s.sing, I can't bring myself to say it.'

I stare at him in amazement. He must have eyes in the back of his head.

'Something like that,' he says. 'I'm afraid I can. . . see straight through you.'

He chuckles to himself, his eyes never leaving the screen.

What does he mean? 'Stop what you're doing. I want to go.'

Martin shrugs. 'Go, if you like.' He rummages one hand across the desk and hands me a sc.r.a.p of paper. 'The co-ordinates for Charlton's little s.p.a.ce-base.

You can join them, if you wish. And die at the hands of one of my Ceccecs.'

He looks up at me. 'I'd prefer it if you didn't.'

'Why?' I ask. 'What's so special about me?'

Martin smiles at me. 'Many things, Trixie Trix. Many things. You're a very special person, you know. To me you're the most special person in the world.

You see, I know you better than you know yourself. I know you inside out inside out. I know about all your hopes, your fears. I have shared your dreams I have shared your dreams.'

What the h.e.l.l is he on about? This is seriously creepy. What does he mean, he knows me inside out?

I back towards to the sofa, my body trembling. I knock over a pile of books and magazines. My throat is dry and I can smell nausea. I climb up on to the sofa, pulling my legs up before me, as though to hide behind them. 'What dreams?'

Martin's eyes don't leave me. 'Who is Beatrix MacMillan? You've worn so many disguises, made up so many backstories, you've forgotten. You've told 208 so many lies and kept so many secrets. You're the Grand d.u.c.h.ess. You're Crystal Devine.'

How the h.e.l.l does he know about that? That was months ago 'Triksie, you don't have to explain yourself to me. You don't have to explain anything. You don't have to play a part I can see through all that! You can be yourself. You see, I already know everything about you. You've hidden away your past so deep I'm not sure if you remember it.'

I pull my legs up tighter to my chest.

'You keep it buried deep, don't you? What happened to your father? You do do remember what happened to your father?' remember what happened to your father?'

I don't remember what happened to my father.

'Yes you do. Daddy's little girl. Do you want me to tell you?'

'No!'

'I could, if you like. In vivid detail. I could describe to you everything you felt that night. Every anxiety you felt on the ride to the hospital. Every word your mother told you with her eyes filled filled with tears. Were those tears of shame, or of anger, I wonder? How is your mother now?' with tears. Were those tears of shame, or of anger, I wonder? How is your mother now?'

'I never knew my parents.'

'No, Nat. You've just spent so long trying not to remember. On the inside, looking out. Trying to convince yourself you've forgotten, denying the truth.

You don't know who you are any more. But I do.'

I'm not going to admit to anything. 'Do you?'

'I want to know everything about you, Beatrix. I want to know what it feels like to be inside you. I want to know what it feels like to be be you. To experience the world as you see it. To hear what you hear, to smell what you smell. To feel you breathe. To share your innermost noughts and desires. Martin looks at me and gives a half-laugh. 'Trix. I you. To experience the world as you see it. To hear what you hear, to smell what you smell. To feel you breathe. To share your innermost noughts and desires. Martin looks at me and gives a half-laugh. 'Trix. I love love you.' you.'

'Doctor, where are we running to to, exactly?'

The Doctor paused at the door to the workshop, allowing the others to catch up. He tapped a finger on the control, and the door slid open. 'In case you hadn't noticed, we're not so much running to to, Fitz, as running from from.'

Prubert leaned his bulk against the wall, his chest heaving. Charlton gasped beside him. 'They'll catch us, eventually.'

'Yes, well, hopefully I'll have thought of a plan before then,' muttered the Doctor, ushering them into the workshop.

'What plan?' said Fitz.

'I'm still thinking,' said the Doctor. 'Quick.'

Fitz heard a telltale hissing and crackling coming from behind him. Despite himself, he had to turn to look.

209.

A Ceccec floated down the sloping corridor towards him as though suspended on wires. It moved as solemnly as a pallbearer. A fringe of flickering light surrounded it, like a poorly superimposed special effect. Fitz's eyes hurt to look at it as it flashed. It didn't seem real.

'Come on!' the Doctor shouted into his ear, then he bundled Fitz into the workshop. Fitz had a fleeting impression of another Ceccec, nearer, drifting towards them from the other direction, and then the door tshhhed shut.

'Oh no,' said Charlton's voice. 'Oh no oh no oh no.'

The Ceccecs had already been there. The overhead lights had been smashed and the workshop lay in near darkness. Along one wall rested the Tomorrow Windows, each shattered into impact patterns like ice upon a frozen lake.

Instruments sputtered up plumes of sparks and coughed up smoke. Screens scrolled with green numbers or flashed error messages.

Six corpses in orange uniforms slumped over the tables. Steam rose from the bodies. What skin was visible was scalded a livid blood red, covered in below-the-skin bubbles.

Then the smell hit Fitz. It was acrid, like decayed batteries.

'They're dead,' cried Charlton, aghast.

The Doctor seemed unconcerned. He was already at the opposite door. It opened to the blackness of the storeroom. The Doctor peered inside, and then gestured for them to follow. 'Come on!'

'I said,' said Charlton angrily, 'they're dead dead. Don't you care?'

'I'm a Doctor. I care for the living,' said the Doctor, 'which, for the moment, includes us.'

Charlton wouldn't move. He continued to stare, horror-struck, at the bodies of his workers. The Doctor dashed over to him and said, gently, 'Charlton, I'm very sorry. But '

The door to the corridor crashed open, the lock exploding in a cascade of fizzling cinders, the electric light from outside streaming in. Beyond were two Ceccecs. They paused in the doorway, silhouetted, peering to the left and right as though in amus.e.m.e.nt, and then floated in.

Martin has some sort of crush on me. Not a crush, an infatuation. An obses-sion. Something insane and dangerous and twisted. This isn't love. This is hatred that he's got the wrong way round.

He glances at the screen, then gets up from his chair and walks over to me.

He's wearing an apologetic expression. He's trying to look vulnerable, trying to make me feel like I'm the guilty one. He's playing games with my mind.

'I know what you're thinking,' he says 'You're thinking I'm coming on a bit strong. I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm not the villain here.'

Oh, yes, you b.l.o.o.d.y are.

210.

'I think we can make a go of it, though, Trixie Trix,' he continues. 'I really do. We share so much in common.'

'Who are you?' I spit. I don't want to be in the same room as this guy. I don't want to be on the same planet. 'What are you?'

Martin puts his hands up. 'I'm sorry. I forget, you don't know me as well as I know you.'

'You don't know me don't know me,' I tell him. How can he know me? We've only spent, what, a few hours together? I haven't told him anything about myself.

'I realise it may take time,' says Martin. 'I'm sure that you will grow to love me, when you understand. . . you'll realise that what I want is what's best for you. And what's best for you, I think, in my own silly, mixed-up, romantic way, is for you to be with me.'

He approaches the sofa. I edge away from him, keeping my legs between us, shielding myself with my arms.

'I want you to love me, Trix,' he says.

'Oh,' I say. 'What I I want is for you to sod off and leave me, and my friends, alone, and crawl back under whatever disgusting rock you emerged from and stay there and die in some drawn-out and painful manner. That's what want is for you to sod off and leave me, and my friends, alone, and crawl back under whatever disgusting rock you emerged from and stay there and die in some drawn-out and painful manner. That's what I I want.' want.'

Martin laughs, absent-mindedly tapping the pistol in his hand. 'You're wonderful when you're angry.'

'Well, I'm extremely extremely wonderful at the moment.' wonderful at the moment.'

'Yes,' he agrees, 'you are.'