[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Adjudicator. Any further speculation was stopped by the
stabbing pressure of two fingers against her neck: the
Herzgang Manoeuvre, another Adjudicator favourite. Any
more force and Roz would die of a brain haemorrhage within
moments.
‘You’re
an
Adjudicator?’
But
the
question
was
Santacosta’s; she must have recognized Roz’s fighting
technique at the same time that Roz had recognized hers. Roz
was stunned; what was a Raven doing on Mars? She thought
back to the Guild History classes on Ponten IV, but she
couldn’t remember hearing anything about Adjudicator
activity on Mars during the Dalek invasion. Their time had
come later, once the blockade had been broken, when their
base on Oberon had become the centre of the resistance
movement.
Santacosta let Roz go, but it was clear that any sudden
moves would be immediately countered; and, although Roz
had started the fight full of confidence, that assured self-
certainty had been considerably eroded by Santacosta’s
prowess. They may have both learnt the same moves and the
same techniques, but Roz’s skills were dulled by nine hundred
years of teaching by rote, as a succession of instructors across
the centuries had forgotten the true meaning that lay behind
them; Santacosta’s were fresh and original, and probably
taught by the actual originators of the skills. Roz then realized
where she had seen the wrist communicator before: in the
museum on Ponten IV, part of a display of standard
Adjudicator field equipment from the twenty-first century.
Final proof, if she really needed any.
Santacosta shook her head. ‘No, you can’t be. No
Adjudicator would let herself be taken down like that. You’re
just not good enough.’ Ouch. That hurt. ‘Who are you, Roz?’
Roz knew that the situation was at an impasse; somehow,
she had to let the others know what was going on, and that
called for a bit of lateral thinking.
This was going to hurt even more than the woman’s slight;
Roz knew that. But she wasn’t exactly in a winning position,
was she?
Roz threw herself at Santacosta, catching her a glancing
blow to the chin. Not too hard, but sufficient to get a reaction.
Santacosta almost fell to the floor, but managed to regain
her balance within seconds. That gave Roz enough time to
step back, but she didn’t want to get too far out of range. She
just hoped that she had gauged the other Adjudicator correctly;
there was a certain move that all Adjudicators tended to think
about when cornered, and that was exactly what Roz wanted
to happen.
‘Bad move, Roz. I don’t need you, but I was prepared to let
you live. I can see now that you’re too much trouble. Far too
much trouble.’ As Santacosta leapt forward, Roz moved
herself in a subtle and hopefully unnoticed way, taking the
attack face on, but with certain muscle groups tensed.
Santacosta behaved exactly as Roz had hoped; the chop to the
shoulder was almost a relief.
When it was first taught, the Cthalz manoeuvre was
invariably fatal, immobilizing the autonomic nervous system
and causing instant death. Unless, of course, one knew the
defence. The defence hadn’t been discovered until the twenty-
eighth century, so Roz knew that Santacosta was unaware of
it. So she tried it.
She wasn’t convinced that her plan had been particularly
successful. Lying on the floor, unable to breathe, Roz realized
that her clever defence hadn’t worked. Her heart wasn’t
beating, her head felt like it was being compressed into a
neutron star, and she knew that she was going to die.
As the heavy pounding blackness poured in and swamped
her thoughts, Roz found herself thinking of Chris. Was he still
alive? How would he feel about her death? Would he ever
know? And then she passed out, knowing that she had only
pre-empted the inevitable; she would have ceased to exist
anyway when the laws of time caught up with her, so dying
now was only being premature.
By the time Santacosta returned to the expedition, the niggling
arguments had subsided, with everyone too preoccupied with
the metal barrier and looking for some means of entry to
notice her presence. The Doctor was waving his metal probe
around, making it buzz and screech but without any noticeable
effect, while the Greenies were kneeling in a circle and
praying. This worried her; wasn’t the whole point of meeting
up with the Greenies only to take advantage of their ability to
open the barrier? What good was prayer going to do?
Somebody on Oberon was going to pay for their woolly
analysis of the situation; she swore it.
Santacosta had known all about the impenetrable barrier for
quite a while: it was the reason that she was on Mars. She just
hoped that someone would open the damned thing so that she
could drop the pretence and get on with her job.
‘Have you seen Roz, Ms Santacosta?’ the Doctor called
over his shoulder, taking a second’s break from his sonic
probe.
‘She’s answering a call of nature, Doctor,’ she replied
timidly. ‘Like I was.’ God, the number of times she had used
that excuse over the last five days; the others must think she
had bladder problems. Still, it would all be worth it – as long
as her colleagues on Oberon were on the ball, and, more
importantly, somebody opened the bloody barrier.
He turned. ‘Really?’ The suspicion was clear on his face. ‘I
find that -’
The sound took them all by surprise, a high-pitched whine
that came from the reflective blue barrier. As everyone turned
to locate the source, a strip of metal about two metres wide
slid smoothly upwards, revealing a brightly lit but empty
corridor within.
That was the cue that she had been waiting for. She reached
into her jacket -
‘Stop her! She’s an Adjudicator!’ It was Roz, coming
towards them in a limping run. Santacosta was shocked: how
could she still be alive? But it didn’t matter – the game was
up. She raised her gun before anyone else had a chance to
move towards theirs.
‘Too late, Roz. The time for playacting’s finally over.’
Santacosta pulled out a small sphere from her jacket and gave
it the once-over. As she had been told to expect, it was no
longer white as it had been when she had looked at it earlier –
it was black, indicating that the gap in the barrier had created a
window in the subspace interference surrounding the North
Pole.
Holding the sphere in her palm, she squeezed it. As it
started to vibrate in her hand, she threw it onto a clear space
on the ground about two metres away and watched as it started
to grow. Dozens of straight black strands shot out from the
sphere and rooted themselves into the rocky soil, creating a
spoked wheel about four metres across. Further strands then
began to develop, crossing and recrossing to link the whole
thing together like a huge black spider’s web. Then the black
fibres began to pulse with an eerie pearl light which ran up and
down the strands in a regular pattern – just how Professor
Ketch had said it would happen.
‘What the hell’s that?’ asked McGuire, staring at the
glowing arrangement of cables.
‘A Transit-web,’ replied the Doctor. ‘A portable stunnel
terminus. I believe that Adjudicator Santacosta is bringing in
reinforcements.’
Santacosta dropped the giggly pretence. Thank God. ‘Very
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]