Bernice covered her eyes. She heard the Doctor muttering, Smith cursing, Hezzka whimpering.
When she looked again, thirty seconds later, Ivzid’s head had been stripped to the skull. The monstrous loop creature was feasting on his innards, its mouth jostling for space between the cracked open halves of his shell, slurping lustily as it gulped down the steaming internal organs.
Blood dripping from its malformed mouth, it turned its attentions towards them.
In the voice of the Management it said politely, ‘That takes care of that little problem. Now, what are we to do with you, I wonder?’
Chapter 9
Forrester was having a bad dream. Typical nightmare, a rush of dizzy unrelated images passing her mind’s eye. A pair of hands, a man’s hands, were planted firmly but gently across her shoulder-blades. The man’s voice, in tones that are more often heard espousing the wonders of upholstery showrooms, was saying, ‘There you are, look over there.’ When she looked she saw Cwej’s face. His skin was pulled back over his skull and his hefty jaw drooped open. His tongue flopped out over his lip, its curled purple surface like a fat plum. Forrester thought she had never seen somebody look so terrified.
Until she saw Taal, who was next to Cwej, similarly suspended.
God. The hands on her back – weren’t hands. The pressure came from a thickly muscled but flexible length of rubbery tissue that rippled itself into humps like a sea creature of legend. The loop was supporting her numbed body, rocking her gently back and forward on her heels. The sensation was almost relaxing. Damn, she couldn’t feel her legs. Her arms were stiff and her skin felt tight over her temples.
And it wasn’t a dream, in spite of the way her vision bobbed up and down and she couldn’t follow one thought with another.
She tried to speak. Her tongue was stuck in her mouth. She managed only a gargle.
‘Sorry,’ said the man’s voice. It couldn’t be, but it seemed to be coming from the loop. A talking hosepipe. ‘The soreness will pass shortly. I’m interested to hear what you have to say.’
‘Who – who are – you?’
He sighed. She heard the loop slap against the floor in time to his words. 'I’m somebody terribly important. Terribly, terribly important.’ His speech was too exact. It sounded modulated.
‘I’m not up for a game of twenty quest–’ She broke off, coughing. Her tonsils felt as if they’d burst.
She was turned again. ‘A little reminder?’ On the other side of Cwej, between two of the mighty legs of the construction gantry, were the skeletal remnants of Christie. Forrester groaned. It was an involuntary sound, and not the sort of noise she could imagine herself making. The body had now been completely stripped of flesh. The male voice imitated licking its lips. ‘Naughty girl. Trying to make off with all my centuries of hard work. I couldn’t have that.’
‘Are you going –’ Forrester’s voice faltered. Her mouth was awash with a sickening acidic flavour.
‘Am I going to eat you?’ The top of the loop curled itself in front of her. The quartered divisions in the tip opened out like the sepals of a flower, and four rows of dripping teeth were revealed. It screeched. ‘Of course I’m going to eat you.’ Its mouth came level with her head and it breathed directly into her face. The rotting smell had the effect of a powerful salt. She sneezed and her head jerked back and forth. With one of its lower coils it smacked her hard across the back of her knees and she fell forward. Her arms outstretched automatically as she fell; she relished the pain as her palms slammed down on the uneven gritty ground. Sensation was returning, at least.
It spoke again over her bowed head. She curled up in a foetal position. She had never felt so powerless. ‘I shall eat you, along with your friends from the TARDIS. Nothing personal, I actually think you’re interesting people, but eating you is what I expect of myself. My new self.’
She looked up. The loop was leering over Cwej, breathing into his face. His eyes flickered and he tumbled forward. She caught him and nestled his face on her shoulder. Taal was freed next. His lumpen, under-exercised body thumped down hard at their side, beating up a cloud of dust.
‘Aren’t you going to say thank you?’ asked the loop.
Taal looked up. His light blue eyes were screwed up and red-rimmed. ‘Your voice. The Management.’
The loop tutted sarcastically. ‘I was.’ It curled into an elegant corkscrew. ‘I much prefer this form. So many more possibilities.’ The tip darted suddenly over to the body of Christie and ripped off one of her shinbones, then proceeded to toss it playfully between the ripples of its body.
‘It’s disgusting,’ said Forrester.
‘Am I?’ It flicked the bone aside and did an obscenely jolly dance. ‘Good, good. I’ve been so looking forward to striking terror into the hearts of all beings. To realize an ambition. How very rare and strange.’
Forrester covered her face with her hands.
‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Go on. Ask me where I come from. I can tell you’re curious.’
‘Just go away,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Or just do it. Get it over with. Don’t –’
‘Prolong the agony? Well, I’m able to relax my food animals. Christie didn’t feel a thing.’
‘Compassion?’
‘Afraid not. Expedience. But there is a choice.’ It lifted her head. ‘The choice is yours. Would you really prefer to be gulped down, piece by bloody piece?’
‘What are you?’
‘That’s better. Unfortunately, you see, I’m one of those dreadful… people that likes to talk about himself.’ It relaxed its grip. ‘Well, it’s a hard one to answer, really. I’ve been around for an awfully long time, and there are several parts of me…’
It occurred to Forrester, and from the startled look on Cwej’s face it occurred to him at the same moment, that their captor had woken them up because it wanted a conversation.
‘I can’t remember when I got started up. Suddenly there I was, pop, the Management of Zamper. A product of the consortium, and goodness alone knows how long they’ve been about. Things went swimmingly the first two or three centuries. A bit of me designed the ships, another bit put them together, another bit did all the legwork on the markets. I suppose you could say I was happy. So far as I could understand the term. Then again, who does?’
‘Oh good,’ Forrester said acidly. It isn’t often, she thought, that a monster decides to tell you its life story. Perhaps she should take it as an honour.
‘But then it all started to go wrong. I couldn’t tell why, but the shipbuilding side of me went off the rails a little. Of course now I understand.’ A feral rattle issued from its tip and it shook angrily along its length, although its voice remained at the same vicarage tea party pitch. ‘The shipbuilders – that is to say, we – or rather, I – oh, you know what I mean, the Zamps. They’d been adapted by my makers. Originally they’d been a peaceful little species. Lived in herds inside one of the moons of Kappa Geet Perba.’ He sighed wistfully. When he next spoke it was with a more alien stiltedness that reminded Forrester of speciesist stand-up comedy routines. ‘We remember home. The meeting of minds in the herd. We farmed the gas-mammals that shared our tunnels, using our herdmind to bring them floating to us. Then the aliens came. The herd-mind sensed their approach. They dropped from the outer world in huge machines and killed our home, took us away and they…’ The loop was shaking and screeching. ‘They changed us. They warped the herdmind, linked us to… to me, the Management part of me… made us shipbuilders, used our imagination, working us so that they could make fire rage between the skies.’ He coughed and the more polite Management side returned to prominence. ‘I do apologize, the Zamp part of me tends to get a bit lyrical.’
‘Don’t mention it,’ said Forrester.
‘But the consortium, perhaps for the first time, had failed. Their genoarchitects could not chain the herdmind forever. With the new knowledge we had as part of the Management, we gradually and secretly altered our genetic structure.’
It snaked down behind Forrester and then reared up with something clenched in its teeth. She identified it as the stinking bladder she’d come across shortly before she had been overpowered. ‘Recognize?’ It waggled the bladder and she noticed a pair of feelers dangling at one end. ‘This was my previous form. Using my vast intelligence I was able to incubate my new shape within. This particular specimen –’ it bowed ‘– is my rear guard. As it turned out, very necessary. Now we are almost ready to leave Zamper and swarm into the universe of the aliens. Revenge shall be ours.’
To Forrester’s great relief, Cwej was sitting up and following the creature’s explanation. He looked remarkably unshaken. In reply to the loop’s boasts he asked, ‘How are you going to manage that, then?’
‘The means is at hand.’ It paused. ‘The Doctor and Bernice are at the egg-carrier now. Witnesses to my brilliance.’
‘Egg-carrier?’
The loop swelled proudly. ‘The carrier will take the race – my race, my beautiful new race – out into the universe. The crew are almost ready; they will be mature and complete as I am. It was awfully clever of me to bypass the incubation stage in that way, don’t you think? We will swarm and multiply, feeding on the bodies of the aliens that thought to subdue us. Our eggs we will seed wherever we go. We will build new ships, build an empire. We can evolve at will, suit ourselves to any environment. The human race and its allies will become the lesser creatures. We will farm them as once we farmed the gas-mammals of our homeworld. The galaxy will be ours. Nothing can stop us from becoming the dominant form of life in the universe!’
Bernice winced as the great teeth of the loop-monster gnashed proudly, and concluded the rambling and self-important explanation it had given to its fear-stricken audience. ‘Nothing can stop us from becoming the dominant life-form in the universe!’
In the ensuing silence, she realized that she alone of the small group remained able to formulate any kind of reply. The Doctor, ashen-faced, was looking gravely at his shoes and twisting his umbrella around and about. Smith had taken his arm and had put a hand to her lined brow. Poor Hezzka, sickened by the demise of his young comrade, was staring fixedly at the creature with horror.
‘You aim high, don’t you?’ she shouted defiantly up at the monster.
It chuckled. ‘Professor, you possess admirable spirit.’
The Doctor was roused at last, to Bernice’s relief. He stepped forward bravely and addressed the creature. ‘You lured us down here.’
The loop ducked its tip graciously. ‘Not you, Doctor. The others I was able to entice by planting mental impressions. As a scientist, you’ll be interested to hear from someone who’s had a look about both that the human and the Chelonian minds are rather similar. No trouble there. But you, you little fool, you lured yourself. You are insufferably curious.’
‘The eggs I saw, the wounded Zamp progenitor?’
‘For your aid, grateful thanks. A premature drop, but your assistance enabled me to get them safely delivered to the carrier.’
The Doctor’s brow furrowed and he muttered a long and unpleasant-sounding Gallifreyan word.
‘Now, now, be fair,’ said the loop. ‘If you will go looking for the good in everyone, you must expect to be disappointed now and then.’
He snarled. ‘I warn you. I make a dangerous enemy.’
The loop curled down and faced him. ‘Hmm, yes. I’m aware of your quite disgraceful record in these matters.’
A little of the Doctor’s indomitable character appeared to return. With mock shyness he brushed a speck of dust from his lapel. ‘I do my best.’
The loop flexed itself. ‘But such pitiful opposition, all told. Dreary tin cans and potato-heads. Hardly worth the candle.’ It gestured to the great mass of dormant Zamps at the base of the egg-carrier. ‘In another couple of hours the full conversion will be made. The great hatching will begin. We will spawn and pilot the vessel up and away from Zamper.’ A fearful screech came from its mouth, which still dripped the thick blood of the hapless Ivzid.
Hezzka spoke for the first time since Ivzid’s death. ‘Why do you not kill us now?’
The loop tutted. ‘General, really. What do you take me for? As you can imagine I’m very hungry. It’s all I can do to hold myself back. Your young friend made a disagreeable hors d’ouevre, far too tough and dry. Some human meat would be far preferable.’
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ said Smith.
The Doctor patted her shoulder absently. ‘Ivzid did us a great favour, in the end,’ he said. ‘His actions forced the premature hatching of the most advanced Zamp.’ To the loop he said, ‘But you’re still very weak, and very young. The truth is you haven’t the stamina to attack us. Just to stand there and gloat.’
The loop growled. ‘This is your only chance. Take it! Or face the consequences. Now, I really must be getting on.’ It turned and slunk back to the base of the egg-carrier. ‘You will all be consumed in the end, no matter how hard you try to resist.’
Bernice turned to the Doctor. ‘Well?’
He shook his head and covered his face with his hat. He groaned. ‘I think I may have misjudged this situation entirely,’ he said. ‘But wait a moment. Something’s occurred to me.’ He took away his hat, and Bernice was pleased and astonished to see that some of his usual merriness had returned. ‘Have you noticed?’ he asked Smith.
‘Noticed what?’
He stretched out an arm and scooped up a rock, then handed his umbrella to Bernice and lifted the rock up to shoulder-height. On tiptoe he hopped closer to the loop creature and took aim.
Hezzka lurched over. ‘What are you doing? Are you an idiot? Don’t provoke it!’
The Doctor threw the rock. It bounced harmlessly off the loop’s thick hide. The creature looked back contemptuously. ‘Oh, please. I think you can do better than that, Doctor.’ It hissed. ‘You’re making me angry. Go!’
The Doctor doffed his hat. ‘Certainly.’ He scanned the opposing wall of the cavern and pointed to the aperture through which Bernice and Hezzka had entered. ‘That way, I think, everybody.’ She wasn’t quite sure how, but the brightness behind his words gave Bernice the impression that something had changed for the better.
As they filed out she edged closer to him and whispered, ‘What was all that about?’
It was Smith who answered. ‘They’ve lost their telekinetic power, haven’t they?’
The Doctor nodded eagerly. ‘The price of maturity. The consortium kept them in a permanently adolescent state. Notorious for psychic ability in any species. And like most, it’s been exchanged for a degree of brute force.’
Hezzka looked up glumly. ‘Does it make any difference?’
‘It may do,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Now then, we must find Roz and Christopher.’
A murmur passed between the flagship’s flight crew as Frinza returned, alone, to the bridge, with his head lowered. The Environments Officer turned from his post at the sensornet panels and nodded briskly. ‘The spatial gateway remains wide open, sir,’ he reported. ‘We are maintaining catchment formation, fixed subject to astral drift.’
Frinza waved him away. ‘Continue, continue.’ He made himself comfortable in the command position and slipped his feet into the grooved control pads that had been Hezzka’s, and old Hafril’s before that. His mind was cluttered with the business of command. It was specially galling to be clinging to the account given by the Secunda parasite. If she spoke the truth, then beyond the gateway was an invasion fleet of immeasurable power. There were, however, sufficient inconsistencies in her story to stimulate his doubts.
He became aware that the bridge was unnaturally silent. The flight crew were waiting for him to make a decision. News of the apparent loss of both the General and Ivzid must have spread quickly up from the lower decks. Frinza felt cheated by the speed of events. It was unfair of life to change so quickly and for so much suddenly to be expected from him. A notion that had lingered unexpressed all his career now presented itself pl
ainly. Big Mother was leader in name alone and his exalted status freed him from blame. Responsibility fell always on the military commander.
His gaze settled on the navigation display at his station, in which the chasm of the gateway was represented as a fluctuating ragged green line. ‘Maintain constant scan,’ he told the Environments Officer. ‘Report the slightest activity at the gateway to me at once.’
The pronouncement seemed to calm the flight crew, and the whispering efficiency of the bridge gradually returned to its accustomed level.
Another of the regrettable aspects of her life with the Doctor, Bernice reflected, was running; usually from something very unpleasant. The Doctor and Smith set a sprightly pace back through the eerily silent caverns, but she was forced out of politeness to moderate her speed in respect to Hezzka. The old Chelonian looked wearier than ever, and she guessed that he was sustained now only by the internal power drive of his cybernetic enhancements, which were grinding and scraping, pushing his organic parts along automatically.
The brightness from the Zamps’ cavern lit their way. The increase in its magnitude was accompanied by a rumble that shook the pebbles littering the passageways and coated her hair and face with purple dust. She spat the substance from her mouth. Nobody said anything. ‘That’ll be their egg-carrier readying itself for flight,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to spell it out. It’s for my own benefit. Sometimes I get lost. My life gets very complicated.’
Hezzka looked up and around. ‘This unholy place. We should never have come here.’
The Doctor glanced over his shoulder. ‘I don’t think any of us had much choice. The Zamps, as they were, lured us down using telepathic suggestion. For breakfast. If Ivzid hadn’t come along…’ He waved a hand vaguely in the air.
Doctor Who. Zamper Page 22