Doctor Who - Bernice Summerfield - 13 - Dry Pilgrimage by Paul Leonard;Nick Walters

Author:Paul Leonard;Nick Walters
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780426205258
Publisher: Virgin Publishing
Published: 1998-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

* * *

The lights had come back up again, and the room was alive

with excited babble. Violaine had stepped down from the

podium, and was talking intently to Dr Narian.

Arvaile was standing near by, and something about the

way he was looking at Violaine worried Bernice. ‗I‘m just

going to have a word with Dr Arvaile,‘ she said, letting go of

Moltor‘s hand.

She walked past Dr Narian, who was looking flustered.

Violaine had obviously given him a stiff talking to. He called

out loudly, ‗Please all remain in your beds. You will be taken

to the area of transference in due course.‘

All the old people were ignoring him, getting up out

of their beds for a closer look at their new bodies, like

enthusiasts at a skimmer show.

Violaine clapped her hands. ‗Return to your beds! That is

an order!‘

Some of them began to comply, but there was still a

sizeable crowd around the bioconstructs.

Bernice was almost upon Arvaile when he cried out, ‗It

won‘t work!‘ he cried. ‗It won‘t work!‘

Bernice halted, frozen in horror, and then was at his side in

an instant. ‗What the hell do you think you are doing?‘

‗We‘ve got to stop this. It‘s insane.‘

Bernice felt like belting him. ‗Oh, bloody hell, of course

it‘s insane, of course we have got to stop it somehow, but

getting ourselves killed is not going to help.‘

Violaine came striding over to them, flanked by two

dedicated-looking grunts.

Arvaile was fighting back sobs and biting his knuckles.

Bernice swore. He‘d picked the worst possible time to

crack up.

Violaine beckoned with a gloved finger. ‗Dr Arvaile and

his charming assistant. A word, please.‘

The Visphoi soldiers levelled their weapons at the pair of

them. Bernice found herself staring down the muzzles of two

large and nasty-looking guns.

‗Back against that wall,‘ said Violaine.

Bernice backed against the institutional-cream-painted

wall, her palms sliding over its flaking surface. Sod Arvaile‘s

grief, he had effectively just killed them both. ‗You stupid,

stupid git,‘ she explained, right into Arvaile‘s car, making

him cringe.

‗I had my suspicions about both of you,‘ said Violaine

conversationally. ‗You, Bernice, because you appeared to

know so little of my plans. You, Dr Arvaile, because there

was always the possibility that you would, shall we say, ―go

native‖ on such a liberal, alien-infested planet such as this. I

became concerned when you announced that you were going

to marry a non-Visphoi. A woman of religion.‘ Violaine‘s

mouth curled around that last word as though it were the

name of her bitterest enemy.

‗I married Maeve for cover, Czaritza,‘ said Arvaile in

bafflement. ‗You, yourself, approved the union!‘

Violaine moved closer to Arvaile. ‗Yes. Because it kept

you where I wanted you. Where you could carry on your

good work.‘ She waved a hand at the line of bioconstructs.

‗You manipulative bitch,‘ muttered Bernice under her

breath.

Violaine turned to Bernice. ‗Why, thank you.‘ An amused

look played across her face. ‗It seems that the little cat is out

of her bag.‘

‗You are wrong, Czaritza,‘ burbled Arvaile. ‗I am loyal!

It‘s just that your plan won‘t work. I tested the process -

and the subject rapidly became unstable. It killed Maeve.‘

Arvaile began to cry.

Violaine ignored him, moving in on Bernice. ‗I heard

rumours that there was an Earth operative on my trail. It

appears that those rumours have some basis in fact.

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