Doctor Who: Dreams of Empire by Justin Richards

Author:Justin Richards
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Science-Fiction:Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780563405986
Publisher: BBC Books
Published: 1998-08-04T10:00:00+00:00

The bed was a stone slab draped with a single threadbare blanket. The sink was a hollow in the wall into which icy cold water dripped constantly. The only other sanitation was a small hole in the floor at the edge of the wall which vented directly through the osmotic shielding and into space. There were no windows, and the door was solid metal. There was no need for a grille in the door, for the surveillance camera fed images to a monitor outside the cell as well as to the guard room.

Sponslor was sitting on the bed. It was that or the floor. He was shivering from the cold, bracing himself to try to stop the shaking. Afraid that he would be thought afraid. He had been left for what seemed like forever. His whole life had come to this, had culminated in this tiny room on this barren rock. His dignity and honour had been stripped away with his boots and his under-armour. He was dressed in a thin coverall, his feet bare. His only hope, his only focused thought, was that he would have a visitor. He knew who he expected –who had to come, if only to discover whether he had completed his task. And when they came, he would be free. Or soon after.

The plan –if it all went to plan –would see him set free.

There was no lock on the door. It was bolted with thick strips of steel. As they were pulled back, Sponslor heard the scrape of metal on metal. He did not stand. He knew who he was expecting, had rehearsed over and over what he would say. Had heard a hundred variations of the answer. There were no surprises left to him.

Or so he thought.

By instinct as much as training, he shot to his feet when he saw the figure framed in the doorway.

‘As you were.’ The voice was sombre, heavy, low.

Sponslor swore under his breath. He should have shown only contempt. It was too late to bluff, and he owed this man no allegiance.

‘I wonder if you have had time to reflect on your situation yet.’ Trayx did not move from the doorway. Sponslor said nothing. He picked at a nail, flicking the dirt he extracted across the room. ‘ I see you have not.’

Trayx was in the room now, standing in front of Sponslor, who could see his booted feet on the floor beside his own.

Polished boots beside grubby skin.

‘A shame,’ Trayx went on. ‘But hardly unexpected. We want –we need –to know what you were doing in the Banqueting Hall. Who you are working for, what is their agenda.’

Sponslor studied the boots, tried to rationalise the reflected light on the toecap of one. He said nothing.

Trayx exhaled heavily. His breath was a fine mist in the air beside Sponslor. ‘I’ve brought you a visitor.’

Sponslor’s head snapped up. Perhaps, after all...

‘Allow me to make the introductions. Perhaps you did not realise who was in my entourage for this visit to Santespri.

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