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squire s robes; Cwej, bursting with pride at his graduation ceremony on Pon-
ten IV. Forrester found it strange, seeing Cwej without his fur and his bearlike
snout. He was so good-looking that he was almost a caricature.
 We were so proud of him, a voice said from beside her. She turned. The
elderly man was standing beside her. His face was deeply lined, and close up
she could see that most of the left side of his face was artificial, but his eyes
were as bright and as blue as Cwej s.  I m Christopher s father, he added.  His
mother and I were there when he graduated. Pleased as punch. Pleased as
punch. First time I d been back to Ponten for seventy years, of course. Old
place hadn t changed much. Reminded me of my own graduation, back in
oh-five. I swear some of the lecturers were the same.
 Roz Forrester, she said, still ill at ease.  You were an Adjudicator too?
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 Proud to meet you, he said.  Any partner of our son is a friend of ours. Yes,
I was an Adjudicator, up till four years ago. It s a family tradition.
Now that she knew, she could see it in his eyes: that searching, questioning,
devil-may-care expression that could all too easily turn into world-weariness.
As hers had.
 My father, and his father before him, Cwej senior added.  Back as far as we
care to look. There was a Cwej on the founding panel of Adjudicators, back
when they were more like galactic sheriffs. Forrester. Now there s a familiar
name. Could I have served with your dad?
She shook her head.
 My father didn t  well, let s say I don t think you d have met him.
 No, I remember what it was, he said, grinning.  You were squired to Fenn
Martle, weren t you?
A fist tightened around Forrester s heart.
 Yes, Cwej s father continued, oblivious to her expression,  he squired me for
his first few years on the job. Good lad. Very promising. Whatever happened
to him?
Forrester bit her lip to stop herself saying something she might regret. This
was going to be a long day.
The rising sun shone through the window of the darkened office, casting the
shadow of the figure across the translucent desk. Information flickered in the
depths of the desk  financial, economic, military  but the figure did not react.
Like a spider, the figure waited patiently for those faint, tell-tale vibrations of
the web.
As the sun rose, its rosy glow slowly edged across the desk and onto the
carpet, casting light into the shadowed recesses of the room. As the figure
waited, the sunlight crept, inch by patient inch, further across the office, until
it lapped against the foot of a large box.
A large, blue box.
The splash of bright colour attracted the figure s attention.
 I ll enjoy taking you apart, circuit by circuit, it murmured.
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Chapter 9
 I m Shythe Shahid and this is The Empire Today, on the spot, on
and off the Earth. Today s headlines: Evan Claple, anchorman for
The Empire Today, died last night in an incident at his home. Initial
reports suggest that his long time partner, Cherri O Halloran, has
been taken into custody by the Order of Adjudicators. Also, as the
Asian Undertown riots spill over into a new day, questions are asked
at the Imperial Court. All this, and the latest news on the fighting on
Murtaugh and Heaven, after this important message . . . 
 For Rassilon s sake! the Doctor yelled as the Imperial Landsknecht scout
vessel Moorglade emerged from hyperspace into a blazing inferno.  You ve put
us in the centre of a star! He clapped his hands over his eyes, shielding them
from the glare of the bloated sun which filled the forward screens and washed
out the stars and the velvet blackness of space.  Quick, he cried,  get us out of
here! We ll burn up!
Beltempest just laughed.  Don t worry! We re heavily shielded, didn t I tell
you?
Although the Doctor couldn t see anything, his sensitive Time Lord senses
could make out the soft sounds of Provost-Major Beltempest s fingers caressing
the controls, and the slight shift in local inertia as the ship came around on a
curving path towards the sun.
 Sorry about the light, Beltempest said, with no trace of sincerity in his
voice.  Perhaps I should have warned you about that as well.
Peering through the gaps in his fingers and squinting hard, the Doctor could
just make out Beltempest s bulky, four-armed shape like a cardboard cut-out
in front of the glowing white screen. It looked as if his ears were folded across
his eyes.
 Yes, the Doctor said  perhaps you should. Then, louder:  Can t you polarize
the screens or something?
 I already have, Beltempest rejoined.  They re on maximum.
Sniffing, the Doctor tried to tell if there was any burning insulation. That
was usually the first sign that a ship s shields were failing If only they d trav-
elled in the TARDIS. He wouldn t have worried then. Type 40s were rated for
environments up to and including quasars.
If only he knew where the TARDIS was.
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If only he knew where Bernice was.
He shoved the thoughts to the back of his mind and locked them up in a
small cabinet that he reserved for stray worries. Time for that later. Concen-
trate on the here and now. He sniffed again, but the shields seemed to be
holding. Beltempest had been right.
As the Doctor s eyes adjusted better to the light, he began to make out fea-
tures on the surface of the sun: darker spots the size of planets and lighter
cracks that broke the surface up into jigsaw piece areas. Typical stellar photo-
sphere. He could still remember the droning voice of Lady Genniploritreludar,
the Arcalian lecturer in stellar engineering back in the Academy.  Theta Sigma,
pay attention at the back there. Recite for me, if you will, the fifteen stages in
the life cycle of the main sequence sun. Odd, the things one could remember
when one tried. He still had problems recalling the operating codes for the
TARDIS, but trivial points of fact from nine hundred years ago were as sharp
as a pin. It probably had something to do with the Time Lords mucking about
in his mind before they regenerated him and exiled him to Earth. They liked
to think they knew what they were doing, and they had assured him after that
Omega business that they had repaired all the damage, but he was sure that
his memories were still holed like a gruyère.
Outside the ship, a smaller, darker circle moved rapidly across the face of
the sun. Ionized gas streamed behind it like veils.
 What s that? the Doctor asked.
 What s what?
 That object. It looks like it s orbiting.
 You can see it?
Beltempest turned and unfurled his ears a fraction so that he could squint
at the Doctor.
 Only just, the Doctor said.  But it looks like a planet. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]