Doctor Who - Bernice Summerfield - 04 - Ship of Fools by Dave Stone

Author:Dave Stone [Stone, Dave]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Bernice Summerfield - The New Adventures - Doctor Who, Ship of Fools
ISBN: 0426205103
Amazon: 0426205103
Publisher: Virgin Publishing
Published: 1997-01-02T08:00:00+00:00

been employed in the dining room, but of a white-shined, waistcoated, leather-trousered

type more suited to the immediate surroundings. Again, Benny was struck by the

remarkable similarity to the dead Krugor – and made yet another mental note to tell

somebody about that the moment she thought she could do so and get away with it.

‘I had taken to bed for an early night,’ Mrs Nerode explained. ‘Nathanael had gone to

complain about the general and most deplorable lack of facilities for respectable people

– as he liked to do regularly, sometimes for hours at a time . . .’

Benny shot a glance to the member of the bar staff, who remained utterly poker-faced

and unconcerned.

‘Jacquin here came across him, and placed a call to my cabin,’ continued Mrs Nerode.

‘I cannot for the life of me imagine how he came to be here.’

The late Nathanael C. Nerode was dressed in an outfit that might once, at some histor-

ical point, have caused its wearer to be dubbed ‘the oldest swinger in town’. A white suit

with flappy, flared trousers and wing collars; a black silk shirt open to the navel to reveal

a chest wig, enough gold medallions to make an Olympic powerball team scream with

envy and quite possibly a merkin – Benny really didn’t want to look close enough to

check. The effect was spoilt slightly by the fact that he was still wearing grey socks and

brown sandals – and by the substances that were oozing out of his ears, and other areas.

‘So what do you think?’ she asked Khaarli.

‘Well he’s dead, at any rate.’ The Czhan turned to the member of the bar staff. ‘You.

Tell me what happened precisely before he died, thou sheep-biting dissembling nut-

hook.’

13 THE PURÉE OF THE PLOT NOTICEABLY THICKENS

Page 84

The leather-trousered man shrugged. Obviously, his vat-grown brain had not been

designed for the higher levels of cognition. ‘Don’ know nothing, me. Guy was jumpin’

around like he had a spring up him, doin’ that thing where he rolls the hands around an’

tryin’ to look up young ladies’ skirts. Next thing, he’s jerkin’ and yammerin’ and

shriekin’ away. Didn’ notice the difference, tell you the truth, till he shit himself and fell

over.’

‘Hm.’ Khaarli turned back to Benny. ‘Probably some kind of sonic device, thou hell-

hated hasty-witted maggot pie. Pulse-pumped sound waves at a frequency fit to turn his

brains to turbid mush.’

Benny nodded. ‘Sounds reasonable.’ She groped through her mind to try to locate

half-remembered physics lessons from school, similar information picked up via

osmosis from the environs of St Oscar’s and practical experience of weaponry picked up

from a lifetime of coming into contact with it, mostly on the wrong end. ‘Something like

that could be the size of a handgun. I don’t think there’s any way we could find the

person who did it by now, without a top-to-tail search of the ship.’

‘Dupont, Groke and the rest aren’t going to do that for this base-court clapper-clawed

lewdster.’ Khaarli gestured downward to the wretched if shocked stiff remains of

Nerode. ‘I’ll see if I can persuade ’em to add a sonic gun to the list if and when they do.

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