by Nick Walters
She was going too fast - at this speed the impact would break her legs. She pressed the ‘stop’ symbol again - and began to go even faster, the updraught tearing at her clothes.
She screamed as the end of the shaft raced up towards her. The Valethske must have taken over the controls - what did it matter to them if she ended up puréed?
She stabbed at the controls again and again - and eventually began to slow.
Soon Peri emerged from the end of the shaft. Her feet hit something hard and unyielding, the impact hurting her knees.
The cable carried on paying out, its silver coils snaking around her.
Athon alighted, legs braced for touchdown. He pointed upwards, grimacing.
Peri could hear a distant whine. She looked back up the shaft. Dark, angular shapes were plunging down towards them.
Peri scrambled out of her harness, stumbling against Athon as he did the same, looking about for somewhere to run.
But she couldn’t make out anything distinct in the green-tinged gloom. Next to them was the drill-head, the size of a small house, its cutting edges thick with black mud, extractor-tubes coiled around it, mouths gaping. It looked like the head of some alien beast. It had stopped mere feet from the rock floor of the cavern. A bitter odour of burnt metal rose from the blades.
‘Come on - we gotta run,’ she gasped.
‘No.’
Athon was holding a red cylinder, staring at her with wide, terrified eyes.
She heard shrieks and yells from above and moved out from under the end of the shaft.
But Athon still stood there, transfixed. ‘There’s no escape,’
he said. His voice was flat, lifeless, reminding Peri of Taiana.
Peri looked around for somewhere to run. Dark entrances led off in all directions from the cavern. Could be tunnels, or dead-end caves. She hated to agree with Athon, but he was probably right. She sighed. ‘We’re gonna have to give ourselves up.’
His head turned slowly towards her, brown eyes widening. ‘G-give ourselves up? To them? You saw what they did to Taiana they’ll do the same to us!’
Peri looked up into his handsome face, his dark eyes, sensuous lips. She had once thought he was God-like. How wrong she’d been. ‘Athon, think! They need us alive, the Doctor’s made a bargain!’
He wasn’t listening. He shook his head, bringing up the red cylinder to his chest, big brown hands caressing it as if it was a talisman. ‘I’m not going to let them eat me. I’m not going to let them eat me!’
His voice echoed around the cavern and back up the shaft.
In response, Peri heard the cackling cries of Valethske.
‘They’re not going to!’ she implored. ‘You heard the Hunt Marshal - we’re hostages, too valuable to kill. Hey, what is that thing?’ she tried to snatch the cylinder from Athon but he was too quick, raising it above his head way out of her reach.
‘I’m not going to let them eat me!’
In a flash Peri realised. ‘Oh no. Athon, no!’
He looked at her, dark eyes shining. ‘Yes. I’m going to do it.
Whatever you say about the Doctor making bargains, they’re going to kill us sooner or later and I’m not going to let it happen.’
His thumb passed over the silver detonation stud at the end of the grenade or whatever it was. When had he picked it up? Peri remembered their dash into the machine - now she knew why he’d lagged behind.
Her mouth dry, Peri pleaded with him. ‘Athon, please listen to me. You don’t have to do this! There’s always a way out...’
She backed away as she spoke, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.
Athon had stripped off his Valethske uniform and his body looked even more statuesque bathed in the green phosphorescence. His eyes were fixed on hers, and his expression was the calmest she’d seen it since the first Valethske attack, back on the planetoid, back at his party.
‘Run, Peri!’ he cried.
For once, he sounded almost heroic.
Then his head jerked upwards, and he leapt aside as blaster bolts sizzled into the floor of the cavern.
He dropped the grenade, which clattered to the rock and rolled underneath the drill-head...
Athon scrambled underneath the machine, hands reaching for the grenade...
Two Valethske slid into view, their legs flexing as they touched down...
Athon snatched the grenade and spun round on his back screaming as the two hunters aimed their weapons...
Peri was screaming too, and one of the hunters turned, bringing its gun up to cover her...
Peri stumbled backwards, feet slipping on smooth rock, trying to propel herself towards the gaping cave-mouths -
Athon pressed the grenade to his chest, against his tattoo...
The other Valethske realised what was going on and yelped staggering backwards...
And then there was a flash of white light, a giant hand seemed, to pick Peri up and dash her against the wall, there was the merest instant of pain and she blacked out.
Chapter Nineteen
Betrayal
A red-furred hand clasped around the Doctor’s throat, claws digging into his skin, clamping his head against the rusty wall. Other hands gripped his arms, pulling, twisting. He concentrated, cutting off the pain. The Vale Guards had underestimated his strength, thinking that he was human, and he was able to resist, but only for a time. His hands groped around, feeling for anything that could be of use - and his fingers closed round the butt of a blaster. Heaving against his assailants, he yanked the weapon from Its holster and fired, sending a bolt of energy smashing into the far wall.
As he’d expected, the startled Vale Guards let go of him and stepped back.
He brought the gun swiftly up to his head, resting the muzzle against his ear, taking care to keep his fingers away from the trigger. ‘Take me to my friends - or I’ll shoot myself!’
The first Vale Guard let out a bellow of laughter. ‘Do it!
What do we care?’
‘You’re forgetting that your Vale Commander wants me alive.’
The Doctor lowered his voice to an awed hush. ‘Just imagine what punishment he might devise for two Guards who by their ineptitude deprived the Valethske of time travel.’
For the first time, the Doctor saw fear in the faces of Valethske. Their eyes widened, their whiskers trembled and their tails began In swish about.
Eventually the first Guard found voice. ‘He’s right.’
The second Guard sneered, revealing a set of sharp blue-white teeth. ‘Very well, we will do as you say. But don’t think you have outwitted us! Soon, you will be in the long sleep.’
The first Guard nodded and snickered.
The Doctor had no intention of letting them cryogenically freeze him. ‘I will go willingly, as long as I can see that my friends are safe. Lead the way.’
The two Guards walked hesitantly up the passageway, glancing back every now and then to check that the Doctor was following them. They looked so perturbed that he kept the blaster held his own head, and wasn’t pointing it at them. The Doctor couldn’t keep himself from grinning.
Suddenly, from somewhere below, there was a muffled explosion.
Veek gripped the railing as the shock-waves tore through walls of the excavator. Her vision juddering, she saw the central array twist violently, cables flying loose like whipcords.
On other side of the gantry she saw Burzka clap his hands to his as a frayed cable-end caught him. Blinded, he staggered and down through the ballooning cloud of dust and grit that rushing up the shaft. His dying shriek was quickly swallowed in the thunderous cadences of the explosion.
Suddenly Veek was engulfed in the up-blast, a hot wind of particles sandpapering her uniform and scathing her head hands. Her eyes turned to slits of fiery pain and she was pressed back against the wall of the excavator, the breath torn from - lungs.
When the shock-wave had passed, Veek rubbed the grit from her eyes and opened them. She coughed, her throat
rough with dust, particles gritting her teeth. The air was thick with smoke and she could hardly see. Akkia and Freela, the two vixens sent down after the prey, couldn’t possibly have survived such a blast. But what had caused it? A malfunction at the drill-head? But didn’t contain any fuel or anything that would cause explosion.
Veek ducked as mud and grit began to rain down on her from above, wondering briefly where it was coming from – then she realised: the explosion had sent a mass of stuff up the shaft, and what goes up must come down. She endured the choking downpour, snarling as more grit found its way into her eyes and mouth. When it was over she brushed herself off. She itched all
Over, some of it must have got into her uniform.
‘Veek - help me.’
The voice came from below.
She walked around the gantry and saw Flayoun, clinging to the edge by his fingertips. She knelt over him, regarding his panting face, dust-caked tongue lolling sideways from his mouth, yellow eyes burning in the smoky gloom.
‘Pull me up - can’t hang on much longer.’
Because of Flayoun, partly, the Doctor’s friends were dead, his bargain with the Vale Commander forfeit. Because of Flayoun, she would never be able to access the secrets of the blue box.
She should let him fall to his death.
She went to turn away, but images of Flayoun’s handsome body as he slept by soft firelight came to her, and she hesitated. He was her mate - and, despite his lack of intelligence, foresight and judgement, she still wanted him.
Above all, he was a true Valethske a ruthless hunter, loyal and fierce. She could hardly blame him for giving in to temptation. It wasn’t his fault, it was the Great Mission; it had warped everything.
She couldn’t let him die.
Leaning over, she gripped Flayoun’s forearms and hauled him bodily from the shaft.
He stood before her, panting, rubbing his arms.
‘Thank you, Hunt Marshal. I’m not yet ready for the Hall of the Dead!’ Despite his gruff, jocular manner, his head was cowed, his ears twitching. She knew exactly how he felt - he burned with the shame of being afraid of death. It was often the way with hunters. Brave as Azreske herself until the time came to face the end.
Veek turned away and activated the mechanism, reeling in Akkia and Freela’s cables. There was a slim chance they would still be alive. But after a few minutes, all that came up was blackened, frayed cable-ends.
Flayoun hissed through his teeth. The Vale Commander will not be pleased.’
That was a major understatement. The excavator wrecked, the prey killed, the Great Mission delayed - ‘Kikker would almost certainly have them eviscerated and fed to the other hunters. Strangely, Veek felt a moment of pure elation. This was what she had been waiting for, a reason to cut loose, break away from the Great Mission. She was on her own now. Well, not quite.
‘Hunter Flayoun,’ she said, approaching him and brushing the dust from the fur on his face. ‘You have always been my most loyal hunter. Now we are doomed, what say we make our escape? We could return home.’
Flayoun’s ears flattened against his head and his eyes widened. His lips curled back from his teeth in a snarl. ‘You are concussed!’ he growled. ‘For a Hunt Marshal to utter such heresy...’
Suddenly his hands were round her throat, claws digging into her windpipe. Veek lashed out with her feet, catching him across the shins and he fell, letting go of her neck.
Coughing away smoke, she drew her spike-knife and was on him in an instant, bringing the pin-sharp blade up through his uniform until it tickled his breast just below the heart.
‘That was a test of your loyalty,’ she whispered into a twitching ear. She knew him well enough to know he’d fall for it. She dug the knife in, just enough for it to draw blood. Then she pulled back, sitting on her haunches. You passed.’
He sprung to his feet, ignoring the blood that trickled down his uniform. ‘A test of my loyalty?’ he spat. ‘No, Hunt Marshal - I saw the longing in your eyes, the yearning for home.’
She’d underestimated him. She slid the spike-knife back into its scabbard and spread her arms wide in a final appeal. ‘Don’t you feel it too, Flayoun? Don’t you want to go back to Valeth Skettra?’
For the merest instant she thought she saw him waver.
But then he snarled. ‘I do not, Veek. This mission is the greatest honour. To speak of abandoning it is worse than heresy.’
Veek sighed. He’d clearly been too well indoctrinated. ‘Then we have no choice but to fight.’
Flayoun snarled, eyes narrowing to yellow slits, teeth bared. Now she saw no trace of the gentle hunter she’d lain with. Veek prepared to fight to the death, summoning up all her hatred for the Great Mission, projecting it at Flayoun, at what he had become. She couldn’t let him live, now he knew about her heresy. The two hunters flew towards each other, their bodies slamming together like colliding skirmishers. They clattered around the walkway, snarling and spitting, sometimes almost slipping and plunging locked in combat down the shaft.
Flayoun was strong, but his instinctive regard for his Hunt Marshal made him hesitant, robbed his manoeuvres of conviction. Soon Veek had her former mate pressed up against the wall of the excavator, her jaws clamped around his throat.
She remembered their joke, after the long sleep, after every long sleep. I’ll take a bite out of you, hunter.
Veek sank her teeth into Flayoun’s neck, feeling the tension in the skin, the underlying solidity of the flesh. She could feel his heart thudding against hers, his whole body trembling. He was whimpering in terror, mewing like a new-born cub at its first sight of day. Staring death in the face for the second time in a few short minutes. One savage snap of her jaws and a twist of her neck muscles would be enough to rip the life from him.
But something made her stop, hold back from the kill. Not the image of Flayoun in the firelight, his body straining against hers. This time it was contempt, not compassion, which saved Flayoun. Veek grinned, a dark jet of cruelty twisting through her heart.
She unlocked her jaw from its death-clamp, trailing strands of saliva down on to his face, on to the white stripe she had once thought so attractive. She let go of Flayoun and let him slump to the walkway. His body curled around her feet, his face savage with pain. He fixed her with a bilious yellow stare.
‘Finish me!’
Veek smiled. ‘No. I’m going to let you live, knowing that I have bested you.’ She kicked him in the stomach a few times, making him howl. His cries excited her, as if he was prey fit only for torture and consumption. ‘You will say nothing of my so-called “heresy”, or by Azreske’s teeth I will gut you alive!’
Without even looking to see if he followed, Veek grasped the rungs and began climbing.
* * *
Veek emerged into the excavation pit just as a trio of Vale Guards were about to enter the inspection hatch. Hissing, she waved them away and they scattered like cubs. She wasn’t surprised to see Kikker and Ruvis standing before her. The Vale Commander’s head was tilted back, his teeth bared in a sickle-shaped sneer, the whites of his eyes gleaming. Ruvis looked as aloof as ever. Veek hated Ruvis; his perverted experiments, his aversion to live meat, even his very appearance - the plain grey tunic of the scientific caste, his prosthetic leg and jaw - were anathema to her and all the hunters. His presence on the Great Mission, though necessary she grudgingly supposed, was a reminder of how far the mission had brought her from the true way of the Valethske - the hunter’s way.
Apart from them, the Vale Guards and herself, there were no other Valethske in the excavation pit. That was odd - surely, with the excavations nearly complete, they should all be here, stupidly slavering to be the first - after Kikker, of course - to get their claws on the Gods?
‘What has happened here?’ bellowed Kikker.
Veek gathered her thoughts. She could hear Flayoun scrambling up the ladder behind her. She wished now that she had killed him. With his honour besmirched he had nothing to lose
- what if he blurted out her heresy for all to hear?
She decided on the truth. ‘Unnatural conditions, Vale Commander.’
He cocked his head to one side. ‘Explain.’
‘Hunters cannot work alongside prey, that is well known. A few of them gave in to temptation.’
Kikker clenched his fists in anger and hissed through his teeth. Ruvis regarded Veek levelly. Did any of the prey survive the feasting or the explosion?’
Veek shook her head.
‘My theory is they committed suicide,’ said Ruvis, his jaw whirring. ‘It’s quite common among prey, especially humans.
They cannot bear the thought of being eaten alive, for some reason.’
Veek growled. Ruvis seemed to be poking fun at herself, at Kikker - but Kikker didn’t seem to notice.
‘Suicide - or sabotage! They may know of the Great Mission!’
‘How could they possibly know?’ said Ruvis. ‘Besides which, a blasting-pack is missing from the complement inside the activator. It’s quite clear what’s happened.’
Veek remembered the look of terror on the male human’s face.
In spite her hatred of Ruvis, he was probably right. Veek’s lips curled in a sneer of self-disgust when she remembered that only recently she had entertained, however briefly, the notion of suicide as a way out of the Great Mission.
At that moment, Flayoun scrambled from the inspection hatch, and saluted Kikker.
‘Hunter Flayoun,’ purred Kikker. ‘Did you give in to temptation?’ Flayoun met his enquiring gaze resolutely. ‘I cannot lie, Vale Commander.’
Whyever not, thought Veek - Flayoun was letting his loyalty get in the way of his own survival. He was too stupid to live.
Kikker hissed. ‘Then your actions have jeopardised the mission and the glory of the Valethske!’
Flayoun’s uniform was stained with his own blood, and he was limping, but there was a grim determination in his eyes that Veek did not like one bit. She cursed herself again for letting him live, and vowed that she would kill him the next chance she got. I have done nothing - compared to the vile heresies of Hunt Marshal Veek!’