Match of the Day

by Chris Boucher

  Then it struck him: a blinding flash of the obvious. Running right to them was his only chance of survival.

  ‘That’s why they did it that way,’ Sita explained patiently.

  ‘Precisely because we would think it was too much trouble.’

  The State Security Minister looked sceptical. ‘You could buy your way into the spaceport for less than the cost of the ammunition. And nobody the wiser.’

  Sita put down untasted the crystal glass of very dry tree-berry wine he had given her. ‘With respect Minister, my investigations have not confirmed corruption at Aerospace Main as yet.’

  ‘And if you go chasing after speculative terrorists you are unlikely to do so, Major Benovides.’ The minister sipped his own wine appreciatively.

  For the first time Sita wondered if the attack was an exercise after all and reporting her conclusions to this idiot had been a mistake. ‘It’s the only reasonable interpretation of what happened,’ she said.

  The minister looked amused. ‘Reasonable you say?’

  ‘What’s your explanation then?’

  His amused expression changed to one of irritation and he said coldly: ‘I do not have one. At least as far as a major is concerned I do not have one. Now I want to hear no more of this. You will continue with your assigned task, unless of course you would prefer a moon posting?’

  The threat was slight but it was there, so Sita smiled and said: ‘Not really.’ She picked up her glass and drank. It was a passable sec. As he always did, he was watching for her reaction. ‘Mm... Superb as ever,’ she offered, and the minister, a dangerously powerful man, smiled fatuously at this compliment to his taste and expertise.

  ‘Tell me,’ he said after a moment, ‘how is your father these days? I believe I owe him a lunch, do I not?’

  Now that he and Leela were no longer prisoners the Doctor found the Court of Attack lock-up was suddenly swarming with helpful staff. It appeared that it was, as he had suspected, deliberate policy to isolate the lock-up prisoners from any outside human contact. Although direct access to the in-house computer terminals was not available to him any more, the warders, or lockup administrators as they preferred to be called, were more than ready to process requests for information and search the computer database on behalf of any visiting non-prisoner.

  ‘You don’t have a visitor pass, sir,’ the skinny young man remarked as he returned from the central control and monitoring complex to the waiting area with the print-out for the Doctor. ‘Neither does your... pretty friend.’ He smiled a small hopeful smile at Leela. She did not smile back and he looked away shyly. He did not seem put out, indeed her reaction seemed to be no more than he expected. ‘It’s not important, sir,’ he said. ‘It’s just that regulations... you know how it is.’

  The Doctor took the print-out. ‘I do indeed,’ he said. ‘But we’re not actually visiting. In fact we’re leaving. Almost immediately.’

  ‘I know,’ the young man said, and he looked again at Leela.

  ‘You must have fought often to be as good as you are?’

  ‘Why do you ask?’ she said, peering through the glass panels of the airtight security doors that blocked access to the inner complex.

  ‘I wanted to see your record of duels but I couldn’t, it wasn’t there. At least it wasn’t available.’

  ‘Why does this matter to you?’

  The young man shook his head and shrugged uncertainly.

  ‘I just wanted to know more about you that’s all. I’m a fan.

  I’m really looking forward to your next fight. I’m a recruit. I shall be right there with you.’

  ‘The voices,’ Leela said. ‘The whisperers who give orders.

  Are they in here?’

  The

  proximity

  speakers

  are

  operated

  from

  the

  communication centre, yes,’ the young man said, clearly eager to show off to her, ‘and the communication centre is a sub-department of the administration complex where I work.’

  ‘It is not communication if it cannot be answered,’ Leela said, dismissively.

  The young man was enraptured. ‘There you are, you see.

  That’s what I mean. You’re so much more aware than most fighters. So much more thoughtful. I’m definitely a recruit.’

  ‘What does it mean, you are a recruit?’

  ‘When you fight in the arena I’ll go for all your angles, closest package I can afford. In fact I’m ready to sign up for an option now before your price gets way beyond me.’

  Leela turned away from the doors. ‘What are you talking about?’ she demanded. ‘Doctor what is he talking about?’

  But the Doctor had been too busy reading the details of the interrogation and the verdict in the case of Attack versus Jerro Fanson to pay any attention to the exchange between Leela and her young admirer. He couldn’t believe what he had read. Surely it couldn’t be correct. Fanson had seemed so certain that whatever else was going on he was basically in no real danger and would be released sooner or later. ‘He was found guilty?’ he said. He brandished the paper at the young man. ‘This is Jerro Fanson’s court transcript isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes sir, it is.’

  ‘He was an innocent man,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’ve seldom seen a man more convinced or convincing. I was sure he hadn’t done it. He said it was a mistake and I believed him.

  Leela didn’t believe him but then she didn’t like him.’

  ‘The computer doesn’t make mistakes, sir.’

  ‘To err is human,’ the Doctor said, pocketing the print-out.

  ‘But to really foul up you need a computer.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ The young man looked puzzled.

  ‘Does everyone round here trust the computer so implicitly?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ The Doctor nodded. ‘That’s why Jerro Fanson chose trial by computer. He thought he could trust it.’

  ‘He was gambling,’ the young man said. ‘It was a desperate gamble but I’m guessing the other two options would have been even more difficult for him.’

  ‘The other two options?’ Leela asked. She glanced at the Doctor. ‘He lied about that as well. He said there was only one.’

  The

  Doctor

  noticed

  that

  several

  other

  lock-up

  administrators had wandered out from the inner complex and were hanging about in the background. They were making no secret of their interest and curiosity, most of which was focused on Leela.

  ‘There’s open court pleading, obviously, which is what you did,’ the young man said.

  ‘We did not plead,’ Leela muttered.

  ‘Agents aren’t trusted to defend themselves,’ the young man went on, ‘only clients. And he was making wild accusations about people plotting against him and mad stuff like that.

  And his main fighter has gone missing in suspicious circumstances. Didn’t want to fight for him by the look of it.’

  ‘That would be Keefer?’ the Doctor suggested.

  ‘You know about him?’

  ‘No, never heard of him,’ the Doctor said. ‘What was the other option again?’

  The young man smiled uncertainly. ‘Well you know...’

  ‘Yes, of course, but remind me.’

  ‘Trial by combat obviously.’

  The Doctor threw his hands up. ‘Trial by combat, obviously. And he would have fought who... whom?’

  The young man grinned. ‘You’re right it would have been him wouldn’t it, since his fighter’s a no-show. Can you see Fanson facing say Starvil, or Maidenly or Cordell, I mean if the Umpire was in a bad mood he could have named any of them, cost no object. Well he couldn’t have sponsored Starvil because he was killed just recently.’

  ‘Is that why this Keefer disappeared do you think?’ the Doctor asked.

  ‘You couldn’t blame hi
m,’ the young man said.

  ‘What will happen to Fanson?’ Leela asked.

  Again the young man smiled uncertainly, he was clearly in awe of Leela and was not sure whether she was serious, or whether perhaps she was teasing him. ‘He’s been skullcapped.’ He shrugged and grimaced. ‘He’d be better dead if you ask me.’

  Leela said flatly, ‘Death is a choice you can make only for yourself, you cannot make it for someone else.’

  He snorted. ‘Well he’s not in any position to make it for himself, not any more, and if it was me I’d prefer to die.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘It’s probably different for you. I mean you probably feel differently. Doing what you do.’

  The Doctor wanted more information about what exactly skullcapping was, but he couldn’t think of a way to ask the young man without appearing madder, sadder and more dangerous to know than he already did. While his feeling was that Leela could get away with any sort of outrageous behaviour and gnomic utterances, he himself needed to be a lot more circumspect if they were going to get away from here without further problems. ‘Can we see Fanson?’ he asked finally.

  This time there was no uncertainty in the young man’s response. ‘What for? You think there might be something left?’ He shook his head sympathetically. ‘Don’t bother, there isn’t. He dribbles, he doesn’t know who he is...’

  In the background the little crowd of curious onlookers had been growing steadily and the waiting area was beginning to get slightly congested. Where had all these people come from, the Doctor wondered? One or two of them actually seemed to be interested in him, judging from the way they smiled and waved if he caught their eye. ‘Leela,’ he said, quietly drawing her attention to them, ‘I think Fanson may have been onto something.’

  ‘What do they want?’ she asked as she ran her eye over the group and most of them waved and smiled.

  ‘Try waving back,’ the Doctor suggested.

  ‘What for?’ Leela was puzzled and more than a little suspicious.

  ‘Just a small wave,’ the Doctor said. ‘Think of it as testing a theory.’

  Leela raised her hand a little and gave a very slight and grudging gesture, not much more than a twitch. Everyone beamed delightedly and some ragged applause broke out.

  ‘Yes,’ the Doctor said. ‘I do believe we’re famous.’

  Behind them the security doors soughed open and a tall woman strode out. ‘All right, people,’ she said loudly. ‘What’s going on here? Everybody back to work. Last time I checked this was not a public holiday. It’s not even a scheduled meal break. Come on, come on, we’ve got a lock-up to run so let’s get on with it shall we.’ The crowd broke up and people quickly disappeared into the corridors and back through the security doors. ‘You too Bazzy,’ the woman said to the skinny young man. ‘How long does it take to deliver a download sheet?’

  ‘There were supplementary questions, ma’am,’ he said defensively.

  ‘That was my fault I’m afraid,’ the Doctor said. ‘I was taking advantage of Bazzy’s good manners to delay him and get his opinion on one or two matters of concern to me...’ he waved vaguely in Leela’s direction, ‘...us.’

  ‘And I’m sure he was very flattered, Doctor,’ the woman said, ‘but he has work to do.’ She dismissed the young man with a nod towards the security doors.

  The Doctor smiled benignly. ‘Thank you for your help, Bazzy.’

  ‘It was an honour to meet you, sir,’ the skinny young man said, leaving reluctantly but not so slowly as to be insubordinate. As he passed Leela he said, ‘I can’t tell you what a thrill it was...’

  Leela favoured him with a puzzled frown. ‘What was?’ she asked.

  He smiled with pure delight. ‘Thank you,’ he said and disappeared through the automatic doors.

  ‘I have to be honest,’ the woman remarked, ‘I’ve never understood the appeal of duelling. Not as a spectacle. Why would you want to watch the killing?’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ the Doctor said. ‘I’ve never been a big fan of death myself.’

  ‘You and Leela are probably in the wrong business then.’

  The Doctor smiled his most charming smile. ‘The wrong place certainly,’ he said, and wondered what she would think if she knew he was referring to this whole bit of this whole universe.

  ‘Speaking of which; the woman said, ‘there’s press out front. A lot of press. It’s somewhere between a melee and a riot out there. Did you want me to arrange for a runner at the side door?’

  When in doubt, the Doctor thought, repeat the question in a vague sort of way, and said, ‘A runner?’

  ‘I can arrange for a good reliable driver,’ she glanced at Leela, careful to include her in any decision, ‘who’ll get you there in one piece.’

  Obviously a vehicle, the Doctor thought, presumably like the one they were brought here in, only this time with added choice perhaps. ‘If you think it would be advisable. We’ll be guided by you,’ he said and saw she was immediately pleased and a little flattered. She might not be a fan of duelling but she wasn’t unaffected by the fame of the duellists.

  ‘I’ll set it up,’ she said, bustling away. ‘I won’t be long.’

  ‘Get us where in one piece?’ Leela asked.

  ‘Have you some further objection to going back to the TARDIS?’ the Doctor asked, knowing quite well that she would have.

  Leela nodded thoughtfully. ‘How do we find out where this Keefer might be hiding?’

  The giant Hakai Corporation lost money on the Orbital Transfer Station but they continued to run it for its public relations value. An organisation that made most of its profits from the ruthless exploitation of outer-world mining installations had found that a benign public service image closer to home was useful. The image and its benefits were precisely costed however. The result was a no-frills operation with minimum manning and nothing in the way of ID-linked surveillance. To promise elaborate control and rigorous enforcement with no intention of paying for either would be counterproductive. So for a fugitive, or for anyone trying to escape attention for whatever reason, the satellite was an ideal jumping-off point. It was known that if you could make it to the Hakai OTS you were more or less home free. Of course, home free was a long way from safe.

  When he disembarked, Keefer found weightlessness was no more of a problem than it had been when he took the tests as a

  youngster.

  Other

  passengers,

  motion-sick

  and

  uncoordinated, were clinging to the soft plastic clutch rails and waiting miserably for attendants to show up. Keefer ignored them as he floated through the padded luminous tube that linked the spaceplane and the station. Once past he was aware suddenly of how vulnerable he would have been if any of them had been faking. Moaning and vomiting into a sick-set might not be original distraction strategies, but fighters had glanced away for less and lost.

  ‘Hakai Space Services welcomes you to Hakai Transfer, the largest and busiest inter-world transfer facility anywhere,’

  chirruped the disembarkation register as it verified that his ID and ticket matched. It was a formality that the machine would have bypassed with no more than a minor deviation into the briefest of subroutines, but if it could be avoided Keefer preferred not to leave even that much of a trace. The register routinely debited his journey and went on: ‘For your convenience Mr Lung: times, destinations and the current booking status of all onward flights are displayed in the inner core, which is spun to one-ninth-G for your particular comfort. Travelators for the core are situated in the gold channel.’

  Keefer took the documents from the slot and shoved himself off in the direction indicated by the yellow arrows that glowed below the smooth surface plastic of the outer embarkation concourse.

  Unlike the three much larger Big Wheel colonies, which turned on their central axes so that the outer rims provided artificial gravity for the settler populations, the Hakai station was deliberately not spun. More ships could
dock more easily that way and, since passengers were only in transit, gravity was not a priority. Fully integrated pseudo-grav drive generators were prohibitively expensive and horrendously difficult to maintain. They were not even considered. There was a stabilising gyroscope in the central core, though, and Hakai’s PR division had devised the usual added-value fraud by fitting out a small Class A waiting area there and claiming that was its function.

  Powered hand-stirrups were available to tow privileged passengers to their exclusive gravity but Keefer had already decided not to use them. They looked as though they would limit his ability to react. Now he decided not to use the Class A waiting area either. He had been unsettled by his carelessness on disembarkation: he didn’t believe that crap about being home free so why was he behaving as though he did? He thought he had the beginnings of a plan, but for the moment what he needed was to change direction. He grabbed at a rail and pulled himself on towards the wider and busier general access sector.

  The GA reminded him of the Lunar Flight Concourse at

  ‘Space Main, only smaller and with extra chaos in the vertical as transfer passengers struggled to cope with weightlessness.

  He drifted through the throng to one of the automatic bank tellers ranged around the gently curving wall at various heights from the arbitrarily designated floor. Without using the ID he called up the immediate outward schedule.

  There were two people he was sure could have sent that android against him. Try as he might Keefer could think of nothing to connect him to either of them. This left him no choice but to pick one at random and go after them. That way right or wrong he’d have the answer he needed. Both were almost mythical figures with power beyond wealth, and wealth beyond imagining. But nobody was completely beyond the attentions and speculations of the press, not even they were rich and powerful enough for that, so some details of their lives were public knowledge. Where they operated from and spent most time for example, what for less exotic figures might be called ‘home’, was no secret back on the planet.