Doctor Who: Virgin Missing Adventures [030] - Burning Heart by Dave Stone

Author:Dave Stone
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780426204985
Publisher: Doctor Who Books
Published: 1997-02-13T23:00:00+00:00

Fifteen

The dawn came again, or rather the geodesic sky depolarized. It depolarized on something that looked like the fires of Hell.

The Titanian Node now filled the sky from end to end. The shapes inside it churned, forming, breaking apart and reforming, like the spirits of a million screaming damned.

The city, rising from a humid, oppressive night that left it clammy with sweat and had precluded sleep, now baked as though in a low-grade furnace.

It was going to be a hot one.

The supposedly derelict Mimseydome™ was a hive of activity. White Fire people in their functional if slightly mismatched combat uniforms swarmed through it in their hundreds – no, their thousands. It seemed impossible that there could be so many. There hadn’t seemed to be that many the night before.

In what had once been the Happy Clown House – to the left of Percival the Penguin as you came out of the Faerie Tale Castle – but what was now a makeshift armoury-cum-storehouse, Peri looked down at herself and tried to think Happy Clown thoughts. It wasn’t the heavy, padded flak jacket, it was more what was under it. She felt like she should be creaking, even when she was standing still.

‘I know,’ Blaine said, seemingly catching her mood, ‘but we’re running low on materials. There’s never enough body armour to go around. As it is, we had to raid the Habitat for what we could get.’ She smiled. ‘What you’ve got on at the moment mostly came from a supplier for the underground fetish clubs – but you’re going to need something durable and heavy for when the shrapnel starts to fly.’ She looked Peri over appraisingly. ‘You’ll do.’

I just wish I could believe you, Peri thought. Stuff like this needed someone whipcord lithe to carry it off. Plus, her all-in-one leather suit and the boots might protect her, but it had also been carefully tailored to enhance certain bits and pieces into what a realtor would probably call a spectacular development of frontage. It was a wonder she could do the flak jacket up. She felt like a cross between a peroxide rock chick and the wet dream of a gentleman of a certain age. Thankfully, the heels had been broken off the boots, and thick ripple soles stuck on with epoxy resin.

Blaine unlocked the weapons racks and slapped down several items on the counter: a gun the same as Peri had used the night before on the shooting range, packs of ammunition and a knife, a little like a bowie knife, with a serrated edge. She picked up the knife again and showed Peri a thin strip of brass running down the length of the blade. ‘This is for knife-fighting. You use the blade to turn your opponent’s and it catches on it.’

Peri saw that the brass strip was scarred and overscarred with nicks.

‘Also,’ Blaine said, ‘you get a little surprise.’ She pressed a concealed stud with her thumb, and a second, much smaller blade slid out from the hilt.

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